Bee in Your Bonnet [Aurin]

[Torin Kilvin]

80th Searing, 123

The idea for an Aura Shield had come to Torin when he had first begun to explore masking his own aura with Semblance, but, as he could mask his own aura with Semblance it hadn't even moved out of the idea phase into any intention of actually creating it. It was only much later, when Torin had encountered others who had masked their auras from his Semblance that he had realized that any sort of experienced Semblance mage could tell when another aura was being masked, if not what that mask hid.

The auras he encountered while masked had been Aurin's, Kala's and sometimes Sivan's and having no desire to pry into the privacy of any of his friends he had never tried to break through, or even glimpse what might be hidden. Then, several months ago, he had encountered a nobleman who had entered his shop with a masked aura. Torin was so used to using his Semblance to better understand what a customer wanted, and a little of what they wanted it for that he had been set aback by the encounter and the sale had only been saved by a quick and clever interference by Timon.

It wasn't that he wanted to peer into the aura of the man without his permission that inspired Torin, but rather, realizing just how jarring it was to encounter someone with Semblance when you weren't expecting it. It hadn't immediately popped a schematic into his head, or even an idea for one, but, over time, sitting in the back of his head, one had begun to form. The problem with masking ones aura was that, it was other Semblers that you were hiding yourself from, and, if you did so, they would know that you were doing so unless you were smart enough and willing to devote enough mental energy (and it was a lot) to projecting a false aura around yourself.

If you wanted to go to places where you knew others would be Sembling you, and not be noticed to be hiding anything, it was distinctly difficult to do anything else that required more than the smallest amount of concentration. Torin himself had difficulty holding more than basic conversation when also projecting a false aura (although this might have been because he tried to keep up a second full stream of consciousness for the other Sembler to 'read' rather than just projecting a vague set of ideas as was the suggestion in books he'd read). Besides all of that, if someone who did not personally hold the rune of Semblance wanted to protect their thoughts they had to employ a Sembler who was able to mask both the person's aura and their own, and if they wanted it not to be known that they were hiding then the Sembler had to be able to mask both auras and project two new ones. With practice, Torin imagined he would be able to do so, perhaps Aurin already could, but it wasn't something available to the majority of people, even the wealthy sort.

It was an unsolved problem, a knot that sat in the back of Torin's mind, mostly unnoticed, for him to examine, tug on and poke at when he found himself doing the more mindless portions of his work until, eventually, it stopped being a background idea and pushed itself forward. When this happened he'd found himself in his runeforge, at his work bench, scratching out the theory and sketching out bits of schematic until Timon had poked his head in an hour after dark to ask him why he was letting their supper grow cold.

When he came out of the daze he knew he would need to speak to Aurin, partly because the idea he was forming, an Aura Mimic, would be invaluable to the sort of work most often undertaken by the crew of Portions For Foxes, but also because he would need the help of another master Sembler if he was to work it out. As soon as he'd swallowed down his dinner (the haste of which had clearly offended Timon) he had activated his pendant. Aurin would listen to his ideas, even when they rambled, even when they were outside of his bailiwick, and then he would help Torin get this bee out of his bonnet and onto the shelves of his shop.

[Aurin]

Aurin enjoyed writing bank drafts with money that wasn't his own. He sat in his office signing them; smaller drafts only required his own signature, while more substantial drafts required three. At this point, Lord Choi and Master Hansom had given him carte blanche to sign their names to such things if it saved them time. Of course, he still brought them things to sign. That way, when they failed to even skim them, they wouldn't know which documents they had signed and which documents they hadn't. They couldn't tell his forgery apart from their own signatures, and so they couldn't exactly claim his were counterfeited. Nor would they admit to such an egregious abuse of protocol.

Nor was he trying to defraud the theater. It afforded him too many benefits, and lent Portions for Foxes legitimacy as well.

"Hello, boy," he greeted when he activated his pendant. "Mm. Mhm." Aurin did listen while he worked, and it afforded him no small pleasure to listen to his wunderkind unleash a torrent of creativity. When Torin paused for breath, Aurin finally responded to the his idea.

"Sure, kid. Inverting an aura. I know that trick. I'm guessing Siv and your little lady would know better than me, though. Mists, even Jacq probably understands it better than I do. But I can vault over as soon as I finish a spot of work here. If you want to discuss further or..." His stomach growled. He glanced at the glitter of city lights in the darkness beyond the panes of glass. "Oh, it's later than I thought. Is there food left? Do you want to..." his voice dropped huskily, "...prototype?"

Aurin had been unfamiliar with the technical word until he had met Torin, and now it was an ongoing joke. The fox-faced man could make any word sound filthy, even prototype.

[Torin Kilvin]

The smith stayed in his work brain, throwing out terms that he was aware that his master was only moderately familiar with because he knew Aurin wouldn't think he was being spoken down to. Sometimes Torin just needed to talk through his ideas out loud and until his brand new apprentice was of a level to be able to keep up there wouldn't be anyone around who thoroughly understood. Aurin understood the concepts and he was a good man, to Torin at least, so he allowed the babbling flow to continue until it eventually ran itself out.

When he did comment Torin made a gesture that couldn't be seen but might be heard in his voice that said what Aurin was imagining was only partly what he had in mind.

"Sort of... Yes, please come ov..." He cut off, work brain falling down a dark well filled with interesting entirely unconnected to Runeforging as the redhead's voice curled around the technical term, bending it to his purpose until it too was entirely unconnected to Runeforging.

Trying to pull together the tattered remnants of his previous line of thought he glanced around to where Timon was tucking the leftover food into the cold box Torin had crafted for their kitchen. Lowering his voice as he moved further away he said,

"Come after you're done working, please. There is plenty of food, I wasn't really interested in food but... Bedroom first?"

Once they had sated the helpless needs and Aurin could draw from his boy with a single, unrelated word, he would want to do a few experiments with Aurin's ability to both use his Semblance rune and be duplicitous.

And so it was.

Two hours later, sated in several ways the two men went out to the Runeforge where Torin sat down, at his workbench and pulled open his schematic book. He asked his fox-faced lover to invert his aura first, then did the same himself so Aurin could see what he meant, saying things like,

"Yes, I can't see into your aura, but it's just blank, so I know you're trying to hide it, which is automatically at least suspicious, right?"

Next, he asked if Aurin could intentionally project a false aura for him, which, of course, he could. Torin spent a good deal longer studying this, asking how much of his concentration it took Aurin to maintain it, asking him to project more and less complicated auras around himself as the smith scratched extensive notes in a smaller book kept for the purpose. Eventually, he said,

"Okay, I think I have enough. What I want is not to make an aura inversion device. Those have been done, though they aren't common. I want to see if I can make something that will project a false aura for you, or whoever. For someone without Semblance it could be a generic aura or they could ask me to make one that projected a specific thing but that would be prohibitively expensive."

It sounded like he would do it if commissioned but it wasn't what sparked his interest, that came next and the change in his demeanor as he first tapped his charcoal pencil against his desk and then rose to pace in front of his aether kiln was obvious.

"I want to make something like that but for those of us with Semblance, that we could adjust with our rune to project... anything we wanted really. You could make a whole aura for Darus that you could switch to whenever you are him, same for others. I could make ones for your other employees and you could set them up with complex auras that would pass inspection from even another High Semlber."

Excitement growing he expounded on the idea until it seemed like he might invent a whole stable of characters for each of the people working for Portions for Foxes that they could employ with the assistance of their masterful leader to infiltrate even the highest levels of magically protected society.

When he was done he was almost out of breath from forgetting to stop and breathe but he was all lit up inside, his own aura shining out to Aurin for approval or comment.

[Aurin]

The impresario of the Golden Peacock Theater was quick to finish his accounts payable, and then he left by way of his door to make sure his secretary went home rather than burn the midnight oil as he was wont to do. Sometimes Aurin stuck his wick into the fellow, and he seemed to be developing an attachment. That was problematic; Aurin liked his people loyal, but not obsessive. In any case, while walking through a door without eyes upon him, he vaulted to Torin's bedroom and fucked him proper. Once that was done, he could eat and think more clearly.

"Right," he said after Torin responded to his blank inversion. "I don't use this one often. Anyone with the trick can tell I'm hiding something. It's better to wear a generic sort of thing, seem simple and safe. People want to put you in a box, so you give them an easy one and they don't question it - most of the time."

Aurin tended to camouflage as Torin later spelled out: Darus had a glamour, but also a false aura. The fox-faced man's disguises were complete, but there were high-security places with high-powered mages who could still sometimes see through them. It was frustrating. He didn't see himself getting any stronger, but there were still people stronger than him. He hated it.

It seemed as though Torin's fix would be expensive, but they never spoke of price. The runesmith's business made him richer than most, and so his prototypes didn't set him back seriously.

"Jacq teaches the kids inversions, but for others, who aren't Semblers, it'd be keen. I was thinking also... for your creations that you invert, if there isn't a way you could fashion a sort of... keyhole? So those people you trust can know the... sembling... key? And not have to break our brains against the inversion to see your work?"

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin was making notes, listening to what Aurin was saying and what his own thoughts were making up at the same time. This was a skill he was good enough at that he did it without trouble, now. Semblance had helped him learn to understand two streams of consciousness at once without losing either. Even three was possible for him now, though at times he might lose a little of one and have to come back and catch up to understand. There had been no reason, so far, to really try to get better at holding more inside his head at once, but, maybe someday, if he got more apprentices, it would be useful to learn.

Of course Jacq would understand better how to invert and disguise an aura. The young coven leader had only the one magic but, at times, it seemed as though he had somehow made a dozen runes out of the one from all of the things he could do with his that no one else Torin had met could, or, at least, hadn't thought of. Bastion probably knew more about it than Torin did, even. He would have to consult his apprentice, and then ask Jacq for his help, if not all of the little group.

The thoughts about auras, inversions and camouflage fell away like so much flotsam flowing down stream when Aurin came up with an entirely new idea. Well, it wasn't entirely new, some of the best runeforgers in past centuries had used what was commonly referred to in the community as 'signatures'. These weren't simply a way to tell what forgers had made a specific item, though they did that as well. The signatures were a way for another forger who knew the trick of the specific signature to access the inner workings and make up of a creation without having to break through its magic or simply break it. Neither option was often available to modern runesmiths when it was ancient magic that was being studied and practitioners of the art had spent lifetimes trying to find the signatures of specific famous runesmiths so that they could understand how they had created their works.

Torin had never considered using a signature partly because he didn't think of himself under those sort of terms and partly because he very carefully documented all his work so anyone who wanted to understand what he had done could access it. Assuming he allowed them to do so.

Swiveling the stool he sat on away from his desk so he could face Aurin he tried to explain about signatures and how they worked. The admiration glowed out in his aura that his master could so often come up with ideas that, while they were often already something that was done, would have been foreign to someone who wasn't a runeforger. Aurin's ability to grasp anything that Torin wanted to speak about showed off his own kind of genius. While Torin might be excellent at his craft, Aurin was excellent at understanding basically everything that crossed his path.

The smith's body was still pleasantly sore from the treatment it had been given upon Aurin's arrival but that did not stop it from growing interested again, in a brain sort of attraction.

"I could develop a signature and give it to you, to Sivan, to my apprentices who could use it." Timon, currently, could not, "But it would be a project in itself, a massive one. A signature becomes a part of all of a runesmith's work, a part of them, really, until nothing they make doesn't include it even if the magic isn't intentionally hidden. Once to learn a signature you can tell who made an item instantly, often without even having to examine it. It takes years, sometimes, to complete. There have been times when researchers thought that objects were made by more than one person but it turned out the forger simply wasn't fully finished with their signature so it changed over time."

He hummed, eyes exploring the beautiful man before him while his thoughts slipped away to everything he knew about signatures and began to pull together bits that might, someday, be a part of his own. It was a little embarrassing, imagining that he was worthy of one, even if, logically, he could see that he was stepping out beyond what most runeforgers were capable of.

[Aurin]

Aurin nodded along. He was listening, attentive even, but the afterglow was still warm around his edges. He was surfeited with food and affection, and Torin's home was one of the places he felt safest, most at home. Safety was an illusion and the idea of home might be fragile, but he felt it and it was enough. His own sembling caught a lot of nuance and a lot of things implied or left unsaid, so he often came up with what seemed like intuitive leaps and great insight when really he was just paying attention.

Eventually, he stopped Torin's stream of consciousness by reaching out to him. His callused hand was gentle enough along his jawline, but firm when his fingers tangled in his hair. There might have been an instant of what could be termed pain, more of a tease to his primed senses than any real punishment. The ginger just wanted to get his attention.

"You are worthy of a signature," he said slowly with complete certitude. "You are already thinking about it. Let it happen. I get to enjoy you while you live; there will be others who will enjoy your works long after we are gone. Your signature might let them know a bit more about your genius. Give them that gift of yourself even as they enjoy the fruits of your labors."

With a smirk, his serious face disappeared and he pinched Torin's cheek like he was a wee lad. But when he continued, he wasn't in jest.

"Now stand up straight and tall. Widen your stance a bit. Good. Shoulders back. Head high. Hands on your hips. Now look me in the eye and say, I am Torin Kilvin. I am a masterful runeforger, and Aurin is proud to own me."

He waited, admiring Torin's face and form limned in ruddy fire- and flickering candlelight. There might have been a sheen upon his eyes.

[Torin Kilvin]

A part of Torin also always wanted to sit up straighter when Aurin took hold of him, particularly in settings that weren't bedrooms. The idea that he was about to receive instruction fit quite well inside him and he wanted it whenever possible. He couldn't be instructed about Runeforging by Aurin, or, he realized, by any of his old teachers, whom he had outstripped, but it still felt more right, somehow, to be instructed in his forge.

The tightness of his master's grip on his hair made his instincts think he might be about to be slapped, which made other instincts also sit up and pay attention in a way that was not at all unpleasant, except that he was wearing working trousers and they were rather tight leather. Tight leather was important when working in a place where you might catch fire.

Turning his head he kissed the hand that held his face, wanting to show gratitude for his position and then he just listened. When Aurin said it, Torin believed it. This applied to everything, even things which he knew to not be true in other circumstances. Even when Aurin was teasing him a part of him tried to believe it, which made the teasing more effective regardless of what sort it was.

The hesitation he felt over things like signatures and great works wasn't that he felt like he couldn't achieve them, but whenever he read of runesmiths doing such things it was in the winter of their careers, or at least the autumns of them, and he still felt so young. Without Aurin to push him, to give him permission to push himself, he would likely not have made any of his own schematics, thinking he needed to reach some unnamed milestone before he was allowed to make his own things. Without Aurin he might still have been working as an apprentice, too afraid to step out from under the protection of a master to have struck out on his own.

He was gaining a reputation now, partly from Kala's praise and partly from Aurin's networking, but it was still more likely than not that when a client came to speak to him, when they saw him they would ask to speak to the master runesmith. Timon had begun using his name when saying he was going to go fetch him, starting with 'I'll go get Master Kilvin.' and then addressing him thus to his face when he arrived to assess a request for his work. It helped, especially when he was so unlikely to correct a client himself. Perhaps his elder apprentice was offended on his behalf, or perhaps he just wanted people to acknowledge that age was not always the determination of skill as the same could be applied to him.

When Aurin finished the first part Torin nodded, acknowledging, obedient but also accepting that what he was being told was true inside himself as well. He grinned and pulled away when he was pinched and the tone seemed to lighten, but he stood quickly enough when the tone seemed to shift back. His body obeyed the instructions even as his face creased in concern. Taking in a breath to object he could immediately see that if anything other than the words he'd been told to say came out of his mouth, that Aurin would be displeased in a way that would not be funny.

Knowing he couldn't beg out of it his mind wanted to be sullen, to say what he'd been told to but not mean it. Aurin didn't deserve rebellious obedience, it was just hard. He hesitated, fidgeted, and then cleared his throat and spoke,

"I am Torin Kilvin. I am a masterful runeforger, and Aurin is proud to own me." His voice was quiet but he sounded as though he meant it. It did go up a little at the end as though to ask if it were still true now that he'd obeyed in such a manner.

[Aurin]

If there was something Aurin was certain of when it came to Torin, it was that he would obey. He might struggle. He might hesitate. In the end, though, he would do his best to do right by his red-headed lover, to attempt in good faith to comply with the letter and the spirit of the elder man's demands. For Aurin, it was easier to have Torin say things out loud like this than say them himself, though he had told him before that he was proud of him. Now, he wanted Torin to walk through the room armored in that pride. He wanted people to look at Torin and see the young Lord of Stardew Valley, the brilliant creator of magical wonders, the beautiful wunderkind, already so accomplished at an age where Aurin had been fleeing from city to city, doing whatever it took to get by, to get clean, to run away from his past and who he was.

There was a quicksilver flash of an approving smile before the smirk returned.

"Say, Aurin loves me."

And as soon as Torin complied, he opened his aura up more fully than he normally did even for his young lover, and he meditated upon his feelings. Torin said the words; Aurin showed him the Truth.

There were parts that were complicated, and parts that were simple as rain.

"Say, I make Aurin happy. Say, I make Aurin feel safe—loved." His voice was unaccountably roughened. But each time Torin complied, what passed between their souls as if they had no impermable barriers was the Truth of the words.

There was also the pain. When it became too much, he quietly, slowly, and regretfully inverted his aura such that even Torin with all his strength as a Sembler could only feel the shapes of those emotional truths, like huge shapes moving under the ice in a wintry lake.

[Torin Kilvin]

The first thing Aurin had made him say had been hard because he had to break away from parts of himself that were older than his memory to be able to say them. He was able because there were newer things built on top of the old ones that knew the words were true. It was like pushing up through tangled roots and old soil to push your face up into the fresh air, it felt good, but it hurt too.

A seed of confidence had begun to poke through the earth that was Torin's psyche since he'd recovered from the damage it had taken at the hands of Aurin's once-lover. He didn't try to make himself smaller when he was around other people anymore, he didn't automatically defer to others, though he was still usually the least argumentative person in any room. The idea that his opinions were valid and that he sometimes did know more than the people he was speaking to had slowly saturated like sunshine and cracked open his shell. The smith had weight to him now, responsibility had bred confidence and a willingness to push for what he needed, what his people needed.

"Aurin loves me." It was almost a moan, a little sexual but mostly as a dog whines when it knows its master is very pleased with it. When he felt Aurin open to his rune, to his mind, he gasped, leaning forward for a moment before remembering he hadn't been given permission to break out of position.

"I make Aurin happy. I make Aurin feel safe—loved."

When his voice broke a little over what came next it was as much joy as it was sorrow. Aurin's pain was his, in a very real way when they were so open with each other, and even if he would never pry and he knew his man would likely never show him all of it, it was enough. They neither of them subjected the other to the full extent of what they had endured, it would not have helped either and possibly made both worse, but they gave enough. They knew each other. They did not speak of it, but they knew.

"I love you," He trembled, pushing as much of it out into their connection as he could before Aurin slowly withdrew. Nothing he could ever do would make what had happened to the redhead go away, any more than nothing Aurin could do would have Torin's childhood have happened differently. But they could hold it together, between them, sometimes and be safe doing so. That they were safe doing so did a lot, more than Torin had any words for. He knew better than to cry for his man, but it was always a fight to keep it back.

One hand reached out and made a little grabbing motion, begging, needing.

[Aurin]

'Aurin loves me,' Torin declared. He said it so Aurin didn't have to. The words made the smith react so dramatically, while Aurin's face showed only the flicker of a pleased smile. 'I make Aurin happy. I make Aurin feel safe—loved.' He parroted the words verbatim, obedient to Aurin's will, but he was both runeforger and runeforge, taking those words that were lines from the man who was no playwright, and he declared them and made them real. They were true in Aurin's heart, as he shared, and they were true in Torin's mouth. Torin needed to know them as much as Aurin did, and Torin appreciated when Aurin cracked open his heart and let him in. He didn't judge the mire or the muck, didn't see them any differently from the glitz and the glamours. They were good for each other.

His eyes shone, and when he saw Torin's hand twitching toward him, Aurin snapped his fingers and then held out his hand for Torin to take, to nuzzle, or whatever he might do. The fox-faced man just wanted him close, closer, closest.

"I know," he acknowledged, voice rough around the edges as he beckoned him. "C'mere..."

There were no more words then. Instead, there was a knot in his throat. The dark shapes swimming under the ice seemed almost more likely to show on his face now. His poker face was failing, but he had already gambled on Torin and beaten the house. Now what they needed was touch and animal closeness, the things that spoke to primal places within them, assuring them that all was well, all was right.

It was growing later, and he supposed he could gather himself to speak more of sembling and anti-sembling, but he rather hoped they could just pull the curtains, climb into bed, and let all of creation dial down into that warm room, that warm bed, the warm circles of their arms around each other.