Testing Limits [Aurin]

[Torin Kilvin]

Hearing the flirting command in his own voice was strange, disconcerting. It made him wonder what other sort of man he might have become had he grown up in a family of his own. Would he have been the sort that said things like that? Could he be that sort? Did he want to?

When Aurin's voice came at the end and repeated the phrase he went warm all over. Well, he was already warm all over but now his emotions matched his body.

"I will." He answered before the connection faded, trying his hardest to banter back, despite his blushes.

Days later he activated the amulet in the early afternoon, shivering from the cold of being up so high. He had tried in the morning, but, as was not uncommon, Aurin was busy, or, more likely, sleeping.

"Hey." He greeted, teeth chattering a bit when the connection was established, "I'm on the sky ferry. Another errand, picking up a shipment of rare metals. I think he only sent me because he knows I can lift the crates." He tried to laugh, but it sounded of fear. "I still don't like heights."

He was standing in the middle of the barge-like deck, away from the edges, trying to remember why it had felt okay to look down the last time he'd done this. Of course, it had been at night then, so the ground had been a sea of darkness filled with points of light. Also, Aurin had been there. What the man could have done about it if Torin had fallen over the side, he had no idea, but it had felt safer.

On the return trip, he would be warmer from having lifted several crates of heavy materials and carried them onto the ferry. He would also be distracted with keeping an eye on the expensive goods. But for the moment he had nothing but the fast, chill wind to pull his mind away from just, exactly, how far from the ground his feet were.

[Aurin]

When the pendant buzzed against his chest, it was all that he was wearing save his skin and a sheen of sweat. He saw no reason to get his clothes sodden while he practiced at his blades. And he liked the feel of the stone floor against his bare feet as much as he did the hilts of his weapons against his bare hands. The occasional gust of air that managed to find passage around the door or down the chimney gently buffetted his skin. These were basic, classic forms, those he had been taught by assassins and mercenaries in his youth. Well-trained was well-trained, no matter the profession. He had learned dirty tricks as well, but those would come in later when he fought imaginary assailants. For now, he just wanted the memories in his muscles to help him dance with the shadow of death.

"Hey," he said. It might have been more forceful than he intended, punctuated as it was by a double thrust of his kunai.

Aurin pivoted, flipping his grip on one of them to go into the next series of movements.

"I'm naked right now."

It was true, of course. It was also likely enough to warm Torin's blood on the airship, and distract him from his fear of heights. Words and images could be like blades, sharp and cutting through things like physical discomfort and fear.

Though he was always armed, he rarely carried anything so obvious as the kunai, though many of his larger weapons also doubled as tools. Weapons were tools, after all. Their purpose was just violence or its threat. He didn't mind the distraction of Torin's voice; it was good to work through distraction, especially since the work of blades was often life or death. Being able to work through distraction was then key.

"When will I see you again?" It was, perhaps, imperious, but Torin wanted to belong to him.

[Torin Kilvin]

Sometimes Aurin's voice was like the warmth of a hot bath, other times it hit like a blow to a stiff muscle; healing but enough to take the wind from one. That morning, it was both. It took the chill out of the wind and the boy from the sky, at least, in his mind.

"Oh." Was all Torin could say at first. It didn't sound like the other man was in bed, or, if he was, he wasn't alone. It wouldn't bother the apprentice if Aurin did have company, unless it made his use of the pendants annoying.

The question made him doubt that there was someone else sharing the small cottage bed, so he relaxed. The idea that the red-head shouldn't be making such demands of him never crossed his mind.

"I'm working the next three days, people tend to want their work tools mended or replaced during Frost so they are ready to go come Glade. So, there are lots of orders for metalwork. But I could come by the night of the third day? I have the day after off and we could go to the Astralarium that night. I'd be to you around sunset. You could try and get some culture into a country boy so I don't embarrass you in public." There was laughter in his voice. It seemed they both enjoyed teasing him.

"If you're working that night I can just come by and enjoy the Cabaret, catch glimpses of you, sate my ensorcelled mindless longing."

If he worked hard he could get everything that needed doing done around noon of the third day. Maybe his master would let him off early, or maybe he would make him stay out the workday and finish other orders. Maybe, someday, he would have a little shop of his own where he could finish the orders he'd taken on and be done when he wanted. The idea was nice. It was the first time he'd thought about striking out on his own and not felt overwhelmed by the prospect. Aurin seemed to inspire not only courage but independence to bloom in the 'smith's wide breast. In being claimed he felt freer; a contradiction that he was nowhere near to recognizing, far and away from solving.

"You don't sound like you were sleeping. Why are you naked?" Perhaps it was cheek, perhaps he only sought additional distraction; or, most likely, he was genuinely curious, as he so often was. Whichever was his motivation, he was pushing, just a little.

[Aurin]

"Good," he said, sharper for the exhalation of breath and forward motion of his blade. It had to be an extension of his arm, of himself, in order to be the most effective tool for the job.

"Come to me at sunset," he said, his words strung along, more legato as he danced through the forms. "Stars or something. No need to make set plans, except to meet."

It felt right for Torin to be close when he had no other responsibilities. He wanted Aurin to be his priority, after all. That suited him, as well.

"Just now?" he asked rhetorically. "The kunai. The trowel-looking tools. Useful in a garden, for climbing, or a fight. Have to keep my skills up. Have to stay hard, living the soft life. In the Cabaret." There was a rhythmic cadence to his speech. The runs of sound were shaped as much by his movements as by the thoughts they conveyed.

"I don't suppose you want to make your delivery and then come help me scrub the sweat away?" he asked, the wicked smile telling in his voice. Surely that, too, could pass through the infinitesimal portal that linked their pendants while activated. And then he was quiet save for his breathing, the small noises of effort he put into the forms to make them real in his mind. Even the forms had to be executed with the intention to disarm and harm, block and parry. There were no rehearsals for an actual fight. His muscles had to remember how one movement flowed into the next, memorizing the dances of daggers so he wouldn't have to waste time and energy thinking when the time came to defend himself.

But he was listening. A part of him was paying keen attention to Torin's voice and lack thereof. The high winds of the high air currents whipped many subtle sounds away, but he could imagine how the young smith looked just then.

[Torin Kilvin]

The conversation cut short, as they so often did, just when the young smith wished they wouldn't. He had his instructions though, both those of his apprentice master and the man who he sometimes referred to as his master.

They were jokes, mostly, but they were seeds also. Like seeds, the ideas needed to be tended with care in their infancy, and Torrin was doing his best to ensure no harm would mar their potential. He had no idea where he was heading in the relationship, it was unique in his experience. Wherever, he knew he wanted to know.

Three days after his errand Torin finished his day's work just before the midday meal. The blacksmith had a number of small jobs that needed doing and assigned them to the tall lad to fill out the rest of his day, but, seeing how miserable he looked through lunch the man had relented, cut the load in half, and let the boy go just two hours after the meal had finished.

Torin packed himself a change of clothes, as this was the first time he knew for certain he would spend the night, and then hiked to the far side of the city, opposite the corner that Aurin called home. When he was right up against the city wall he tried to activate the amulet. As suspected, it didn't work. He walked about ten feet away from the wall and tried again, still nothing. He spent the afternoon thus, walking closer by small degrees to the man who wore the amulet's twin until, between one step and the next, it activated.

After having made so many attempts the apprentice wasn't expecting the connection and so when he heard Aurin's voice he jumped and made a startled sound.

"Oh! Uhm, hello. Sorry, I've been testing the outside limits of the amulet for more than an hour and I wasn't expecting it to work quite yet." He sounded pleased, after the surprise wore out of his voice. He had hoped the range would be enough to be used by scouts and it seemed that was plausible.

"I'm across the city, on the far side, heading toward you. I hope I didn't interrupt anything." His blush was audible. The idea if testing the amulets felt like a part of work, and he hadn't stopped to consider that Aurin might think he was activating the communication for something important and answer it right away. If the amulets connected Torin would feel it without Aurin having to complete the connection that allowed them to speak to each other.

"I should have told you I'd be testing today, I'm sorry."

It was still a few hours before sunset, plenty of time to arrive as instructed, but Torin began to hurry, as though some part of his instincts thought that him being early might earn him forgiveness.

[Aurin]

"You didn't interrupt anything," he said, magnanimous unless he had a reason not to be, and Torin was a creature that responded well to kindness and care. He also seemed to enjoy firmness and structure, though, and there ought to be time enough to explore that together.

At the desk in the little office where the managers saw to business, he poured a small pouch of coin onto the ledger in front of him. Most stayed put where he intended. Another bounced and began to spin on the wood. Another bounced and tried to get away, but he snatched it out of the air. He doubted Torin could see this little ballet even if he were peeking through the hole in his pendant, but certainly he could hear it if the ambient noise where he was didn't drown it out.

"I'm just wrapping things up so the house is in order when things get busy tonight," he said, sounding conversational enough. "My first thought is to have you run to me, to find you panting and eager on my doorstep when I return home shortly. But... I want you to try something for me."

Aurin paused for acknowledgment. He rarely made demands of Torin, who was so eager to please. An actual desire expressed might make his breath catch or respond with a fairytale your wish is my command. Once acknowledged, he continued.

"I want you to come to me, but I want you to listen to the conversations you pass by. Listening is a skill. It takes practice to filter through the noise, to find the thread of a thing... I want you to listen for me and report to me what you hear. Rumors. Admissions. Interesting things, both what you find interesting and what you think I might find interesting." He paused. "And once you're here, I'll make your cheeks flush and your breath and pulse quicken as if you had run all the way to my side."

[Torin Kilvin]

The sound of money tumbling fit with the voice that came through clear to Torin even in the bustle of the open city streets.

The urge to run to Aurin, to arrive thus out of breath as a show of his devotion and contrition over the inconsideration of his testing was strong. He conquered it by degrees and made himself slow, and listen. First to Aurin, his instructions, his tone, just to him; then, once the amulets ended their conversation, to everything else.

It was hard, at first, and at times throughout. He was not well used to listening for spoken words not directed at him. He had been taught as a child not to listen to other people's conversations so the exercise he had been set to felt giddily inappropriate, like watching someone undress. He thrilled a little to hear fishwives bemoaning the quality of their husband's catches, children singing skipping rhymes or sharing their infant secrets, young women gossiping about who might marry whom.

Sometimes his ears would hone in on a specific set of voices, and at others, everything became the chaos of sound swirling around him again. The young smith soon realized this wasn't going to be a single afternoon's task. If he was to become skilled in the art it would take months. Still, he tried, did his best.

Some of the things he heard weren't so innocent or pleasant; he learned that a man was beating his wife near enough to every night that she couldn't go out in public anymore, that a certain alehouse was serving rat that it claimed was rabbit, that all the whores in a certain brothel were pox-ridden. Other things he wasn't sure where to place on a scale of good or bad. A high-born young couple was sleeping together out of wedlock and their parents were scrambling to announce the engagement before rumors spread. A group of nobles was enraged by some new law being proposed.

The wealth of information flying between the streets, rich and poor alike, was overwhelming. Torin knew, of course, that people talked about things almost all day every day, but he had somehow never thought about it in terms of pure information. It was overwhelming. For a moment he wondered if being a god meant that you heard all of the information being spoke, all of the time. He grew disoriented briefly thinking about it and decided he shouldn't anymore. At least, not until he was alone somewhere quiet, with Aurin. The man was always willing to listen to Torin's musings, perhaps he even enjoyed them sometimes.

Thinking about his destination grounded him and he moved on, into the entertainment district. Here he listened, for a good five minutes, to a pair of people whispering gossip of the most astounding things until he realized they were rehearsing a scene from a play they were performing. His face grew hot, even though there was no one to know of his mistake but himself, and he moved on quickly.

When at last he arrived he had a thousand new thoughts buzzing around, waiting to be sorted and assigned their places in his worldview. He paused at a playhouse near the Cabaret, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes. It was still some time before the sun would begin to set and while he liked the idea of just sitting on Aurin's doorstep like a puppy, he had instructions.

A one-horse gig came rushing around the corner nearby, a young lordling showing off for his lady, who laughed protests that didn't sound in the least sincere. Due to the slush on the ground and the many feet churning it to mud the cart was spattering muck up on both sides of the street. Torin ducked back deep into the small alley behind the theatre just in time to avoid being soaked. Yells of protest followed the carriage and Torin wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or swear at the recklessness of the driver. It was here, tucked into the darkness of the tiny space between the two buildings that he heard something he didn't understand.

Something about the woman who owned the theatre, about gambling, about loss. He held very still. The voices were coming from a window a few feet above his head, one sounded distressed, the other resigned. He listened until the speakers moved away, their voices fading deeper into the building. Frowning the lad moved back out to the street, shoved his mittens into his pockets, and let his feet carry him the rest of the way to Aurin's door.

[Aurin]

It was Aurin, in fact, who was sitting on his doorstep, though he didn't give the impression of a puppy. At first glance, he was lighting something with a lucifer and inhaling. There were many such things within the Cabaret, but it was rare to see him partake outside of work. He knew how to regulate a high such that he could remain effective through it, but apparently he just wanted to relax after all the mathematics and paperwork.

Upon closer inspection, the cigarillo struggled to stay lit, its contents not flammable in the same way as the tobacco paper. There was the pungent aroma of whatever he was smoking, the warm hint of the tobacco, and even the acrid bite of the spent lucifer on the air in his corner of the alley. Clever eyes caught Torin almost right away and he grinned. His eyes stuck to Torin as he approached almost as if the man liked the way he walked or something. But Aurin stood up before Torin had fully arrived and pulled him into a bear hug. It was entirely possible that Torin was the stronger of the pair, his muscles built for making massive force with a hammer, but even his ribs felt the possessive pressure of the other man's embrace. As soon as it was over, he slung his arm around those broad shoulders and tugged him through the doorway.

Aurin kissed Torin's temple, a new sort of affection, then closed the door, turned on him, and shoved him back against the door with a deft direction of his body's weight. No harm; as yet, no foul. He just looked into Torin's eyes from up close as if dowsing for his secrets though he had asked that he listen for those of other people.

Perhaps he was just fulfilling his promise to make him blush, to speed up his heart and his lungs.

A vulpine smile ought to have had sharper teeth, but Aurin's could break skin.

"Hey," he said, voice pitched low.

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin had his head down, a combination of too full of new information and simply cold from having been outside for hours in the middle of winter. So, he was surprised to look up and see Aurin, seemingly waiting for him, fire in his mouth and a strange scent hovering around him. The immediate embrace was equally surprising. Aurin always felt like the fire was inside him, warm, crackling with energy below the surface.

The boy came out of his hunch and returned the hug, very glad for it, to have arrived, to feel safe and encompassed by someone he trusted. He let himself just be, releasing the tension of the workweek, the walk, the information overload, until he was pulled inside the one-room cottage.

The room was as it always was. Aurin was efficient enough in his living to be almost sparse, but the familiarity settled Torin farther, as did the affectionate kiss. Then he was being shoved against the wall, staring into eyes bright and fierce enough to burn. His heart began to thump, unsure if he was about to be punished or ravished. His reaction to either would have been the same: fear and arousal.

Their eyes remained locked, but no action seemed to be forthcoming. When he was greeted, low and soft, like a predator stalks its prey, he had to swallow twice before he could answer with his own husky,

"Hey."

Without thought he leaned in, pressed his own kiss to the toothsome grin Aurin used to offer and deny him, to keep him unbalanced and stable. When the kiss broke he was a little embarrassed, or, perhaps he only felt that he ought to be embarrassed and the red on his cheeks was from the sudden move from freezing to heated.

When Aurin let him off the wall he doffed his coat and mittens, trying to subtly adjust himself as he did so. Moving to stand by the fire, holding his hands out toward it, he began to recount the things he had heard, interjecting occasionally with observations or his thoughts on what he'd observed. He started with the things that didn't matter, children's stories, normal daily conversation, then he moved on to actual gossip, conversations about trade and the prices of things, how the winter stores were holding up. After those, he spoke of the young noble couple who were to be hastily wed before anyone could notice that the bride was already with child.

By then he was warmed but stood for a time longer, watching the flames and considering. When his sworn-master asked him if there was anything else he lifted his eyes,

"There is one other thing, but I don't know what it means or even if I heard it right." He described his encounter with the speeding carriage, his retreat into the alley, and what he'd heard there. He described the playhouse, not having remembered to look at the name in his haste to be gone after.

"It sounded like the lady who owns it is in debt from gambling and plans to, or already has given the deed over to the man she owes. It didn't sound like he wants it, so maybe he won't take it, or maybe he'll shut it down. The lady who was speaking sounded afraid, or worried at least."

He had some idea of how the rumor about the high-born couple could be useful, but he didn't view this in the same light. It felt like an emotionally uncomfortable thing to have witnessed. He was telling Aurin more as a way to purge it than as a part of the recitation of his task. Overhearing words spoken in public, even if they were done circumspectly, was one thing in his mind. Hearing people afraid for their livelihoods, grieving them in the privacy of their homes was something else.

When he finished speaking he looked to Aurin, for feedback on his task, for praise or instruction, for reassurance. His face was open, tired, seeking; like a hound after a long day's hunt nosing under a hand for its master's pat.

[Aurin]

Aurin accepted the kiss and the information as his due. Torin wanted someone's mastery, and he had chosen Aurin. At least he knew how to take it in stride, accepting the things that Torin needed that most people wouldn't speak about without the cover of darkness and a screen of intoxicants. His eyes kept track of all the minutiae while he mulled over the report.

He nodded from time to time, usually in approval. Insignificant to significant, giving him the time to tie together anything that might be related. A few times he paused to ask questions, even to some of the seemingly insignificant things. Those were to help Torin learn to listen critically, but also to pay attention to details, those attendant things which might provide the needed context to make a connection. The foibles of the randy nobility might be worth something if he acted quickly, but he didn't plan to follow up on that until the morrow. And anyway, theatrical business struck closer to home what with his employment at the Cabaret, which stood next to the Golden Peacock and shared in some business ventures since the one could easily draw custom from another or they could work together to everyone's benefit.

"Good work," he said finally. "If you want to learn about Kalzasi, you have to keep your eyes and ears open. Hells, even your nose. There are things to know just swirling around you if you pay attention. I want you to do that from now on. Look. Listen. Pay attention. Bring me what you learn. I'll help you connect the dots, make sense of the chaos. Life is complex, but it helps to break things down, often to talk with someone about things and I'm here for you. For that. And for other things, as you well know." That clever, predatory smile flashed again, but while he might have bitten Torin, he hadn't torn at his flesh. It was playful, which was the best way to be deadly serious in his opinion.

"Now." He leaned in so Torin could feel the weight of him pushing his body against the door. "I promised certain things..."