Deeper with Every Turn

[Arvælyn]

"Deeper with Every Turn"

13 Searing, 121
Aurin's Cottage, Kalzasi

Things had been so diffrent since the 40th of Frost. Prior to that fateful day, Arry had been able to navigate his complex feelings for Aurin if not deftly, then at least capably. Their relationship was never going to be an easy one. From the very outset, Arvine had applied so many roles to the red-haired rake. He'd started as a mark, then became a benefactor, a beacon of hope, a saviour and to top it all off (no pun intended) a lover.

Over the years since his arrival in Kalzasi, Arry had begun to think of him as his own. His family. They both had other lovers- Arry by virtue of his work at the cabaret and Aurin because he was hot, virile and unattached. The half-elf had been envious at times, but those instances were typically expressed after too much wine and resolved beneath the sheets. There was something different about Torin that had bothered him at the outset and it took him months to realise what it was. Torin's story was too much like his own. And that meant he wasn't special anymore. The glister had worn off the golden boy.

He tried to regain his shine, at first, by initiating sex as often as possible in increasingly adventurous ways. New positions, props, additional partners, anything he could think of to remind Aurin that he was special. In the meanwhile, surely Aurin would show Torin the side of him that only Arry ever tolerated in the long-term, and scare the large human away. But it didn't work, and Arvine didn't feel like the glamourous, elegant Arvalyn anymore. He felt like the ill-starred urchin Aurin had plucked out of Antiris. His only respite from this, had been his art. And he felt most alive in that when he was with Finn.

He'd known he was developing feelings for Finn over the course of the Glade Season, but with Aurin still in the mix it felt irresponsible to burden such a tender heart as Finn's with the reckless tides of his own. Aurin had a hold over him that he couldn't dismiss as blithely as he told himself he could. He was getting good at acting, though, and he could wear the mask of unconcern with ease until he was alone. When he took it off, it left marks upon his soul. But yesterday, he'd doffed that mask to give an earnest performance of the song he'd written with Finn. He let his face breathe in the evening air in the aftermath of that triumph, and his heart demanded that he broach the unspoken with his musical collaborator. If art was to be his only outlet and his foremost focus, then Finn was the living embodiment of that. Without realising he'd been doing it, he started to reassign some of Aurin's roles to Finn. And the latest, it seemed, would be that of lover.

It was afternoon and Arry had scrawled a simple note onto a slip of paper:

"Aurin- Let me know when we can speak in private - Arry" He folded the note up and headed out into the alleyway, to slip it under the door to Aurin's cottage. He might have knocked, but Torin might have slept over and Arry didn't really want to know if he had. He crouched before the door, just as it swung open and he found himself face-to-crotch with a pair of trousers. He lifted his golden eyes to find,

"Aurin..." And he slipped the paper furtively into his pocket. "...are you alone, at the moment, or...?" His felt a blush creeping up his neck, embarrassed at having been found this way.

[Aurin]

An amused pair of hazel eyes peered down at him. Trousers were all he was wearing at the moment, not because he had company, but because sometimes the breezes just weren't in his favor and his little cottage got far too hot for comfort. It wasn't terrible today, but his windows weren't catching enough air and so he was barefoot and bare-chested. It wasn't the first time Arry had knelt between his knees, but their occasional couplings had become an increasingly regular thing until they had just stopped altogether. He missed the sex, of course. He missed Arry in his arms afterward more, the flickers of himself that were entirely without artifice, and even when he seemed to swerve too hard into his Arvalyn role and Aurin had to laugh.

"Filching my mail again?" he asked, then stepped aside. "C'mon in."

Something was the matter, but if Arry wasn't going to bring it up, Aurin certainly wasn't. At least, not if Arry seemed to be doing well, seemed more or less happy. The elder man didn't know if Arry would ever be content. If he became a star of the Golden Peacock, invited to royal balls, there might always be something missing, something else he wanted. There was no judgment attached to the thought. It was good that Arry was ambitious. It would get him more and hopefully keep him healthy and whole.

He swung the door wildly back and forth once Arry had crossed the threshold, trying in vain to get a little air moving. Sometimes he wished he had the elemental trick, so he could make his own damned breezes when the weather wouldn't cooperate.

The place was as spartan as it had been when Arry had first arrived on his doorstep, half-starved and exhausted from the long journey from Antiris. He had been a pickpocket, then a project, and only later a mentee, or a little brother, which eventually made the sex feel wrong — in good ways and bad ways, at least by the estimation of an admittedly bad man — and now he didn't know what they were. Friends, he hoped, if Arry had grown weary of being his lover. He was still carefully optimistic that he might be able to finagle his way into a position at the Peacock and give Arry another hand up the ladder toward where he wanted to be.

"The ice has melted, but the tea's still cool if you'd like some." This had been Arry's home, too, so he didn't play host or anything. He just offered.

[Arvælyn]

Arry rose from his crouch, scratching the back of his neck whilst wearing a bashful smile and eyes that traveled from Aurin's moon pale torso down to his feet, where they lingered. Toes seemed less intimidating than his eyes, for the moment, but the floor within was even less judgemental and so he entered as soon as the invitation was posed.

"I tripped." He lied. He was usually good at deception, but Aurin was disarming. Arry was many things, but clumsy was not among them. Not physically clumsy, at any rate.

"Bloody 'ot in 'ere, innit?" He grimaced and stuck his tongue out disapprovingly, before plopping himself down on Aurin's mattress and laying on his back with his legs hanging over the foot of the bed. Staring at the bare ceiling for a silent moment, his eyes landed on a little knot in the wood. He'd been in this position so many times and always seemed to find himself focusing on it by virtue of its solitude in an expanse of nothing in particular.

"No, thank you." He replied to the offer of formerly-iced/presently-tepid tea. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, where one hand felt the crinkle of the note he'd written. All at once he realised he didn't really know what he'd come here to say. He knew it felt important that they talk... He knew there'd been a gulf growing between them for some time and that their cordiality was a shoddy veil for a new kind of tension. They hadn't fought in quite some time, which was ironically what worried Arry most. When they fought it released tension. Arry would blow up and come back contrite, or Aurin would blow up and... Arry would still come back contrite, but it was their pattern and it had felt comfortable in its way.

He took a breath and sat up, pulling his hands from his pockets and clapping them on his knees.

"I, um... Wanted to speak with you. I-..." He trailed off as his eyes met Aurin's and he panicked, "I feel like we 'aven't had a catch-up in eons. 'ow've you been? What's going on- Personally, I mean. Obviously we just caught up on your new business prospects and all, but um... Yeah. 'ow's fings?"

[Aurin]

Aurin smirked at Arry's cover story, but it was a good-natured smirk. Arry understood the subtle versions of the same on his face better than most. The ginger had a difficult time with uncomplicated things like smiles, like joy, and like their relationship. It wasn't anyone's fault that was complicated — it wasn't a problem; it was a challenge.

"Aye, hot as balls," he agreed. He hadn't resorted to talcum powder, but there might be a day or two of Searing that was truly searing and while some of the courtesans were content to mask odors with perfumes, Aurin was more worried about functionality. He left the door open, hoping another avenue of egress would make the air move or perhaps some citizen of the far south would finally find him and just put him out of his misery.

Pleased that Arry made himself at home, Aurin sprawled out on the rug just before the bed, limbs akimbo. This was what he had been doing anyway, being still and creating as much surface area for the air to wick excess heat away. So far, so good, though if Arry had come for a tumble, they would be dehydrated by the end. Too blissful to care, perhaps, but thirsty in a new way.

"Work is hard," he admitted, letting his head loll to the side so he could look at the pretty elf who thrived at least in part because he had made choices that proved he wasn't that bad. "At the Cabaret, I mean. I've scented something better and it makes me want more, you ken? And it's still up in the air. I mean, the odds are still in our favor, I'd say, but I wish the possibility of something better wasn't making everything else seem... not enough. I suppose you've felt that way a bit..." He hazarded as much, curious as to what was going on behind that golden façade. "With a shot at the Peacock... A break-out performance with your new partner... The Cabaret must feel restricting."

[Arvælyn]

"It's no wonder you're 'alf dressed." Arry observed, lifting himself up onto his elbows so he could raise his head to regard Aurin where he'd made himself comfortable. It wasn't exactly ideal that the foxy human was so scantily clad, at the moment. He was here to have a heart-to-heart and it wouldn't be made any easier with a side of red hot temptation arrayed in front of him. At least the heat was oppressive enough that the notion of coupling was a bit more daunting than usual.

"Aye." He agreed, knowingly. "Things are different at the cabaret since I started getting solo slots, but... Not as different as I thought they'd be, you know?" The glistering glamour of stardom at the cabaret was tarnished, now that he realised the same lascivious, leches who'd been the audience when he was a chorus boy, were no less intent on conquering him now that he was centre stage. They were just willing to pay more.

"Did you, um..." He pursed his lips and glanced down to one side, inspecting the familiar pattern of the blanket on which he lay. "Did you enjoy our performance? We didn't get a chance to talk afterwards..." In truth, Arry hadn't seen Aurin in the house, but he didn't tend to look at the faces of the audience. Arry just figured he'd have been there, because he knew it was important to him and, for all his mercurial ways, Aurin tended to show up when it was particularly important to him.

"I think the song works much better as a duet." He posited, "It's still sort of 'eartrending, but with two people there's an unspoken element of hope, I think... Like neither of them is truly alone in their aloneness..." He found himself looking at Aurin, again, wondering whether he might derive any recognition from that sentiment.

"Are you feeling cared for?" He inquired, after a beat.

[Aurin]

A part of him felt bad every time things didn't go the way Arry wanted them to, as though the hand he had offered long ago in Antiris had been in bad faith, as if he should have done more to elevate Arry out of the life and into the life he dreamed about. After all, a part of what had made him reach out in the first place was the hare-brained idea that he could help someone like himself before it was too late for him. Sex work was just work, but he knew it wasn't what Arry wanted. They both recognized that it was a path to the stage, however. And Aurin might have pushed harder on Arry's behalf, but the returns would not have been certain and it would have created a lot of bad blood for the both of them. Part of why Aurin was as successful as he was at the Cabaret was that he was fair-minded and stuck to his lane unless he saw a sure opportunity that was win-win for all involved.

A few months ago, he would've rolled his eyes and told Arry to strip down, whether he was angling for sex or not, but now it seemed safer to walk on eggshells around him. Something seemed the matter, but he wasn't in the habit of interrogating Arry too hard. He never quite knew where the line was that would send him storming off, but this time never to return. Even though that would likely end up the best-case scenario for the scamp, it would be bittersweet for Aurin.

"Aye, Lunaria had me in the back office counting her money, but I came out to watch," he said. "I'm glad you didn't see me grinning like a fool..." He grinned now, his hands behind his head. "Saw you duck out with the minstrel, so I ducked back into the office. But people were talking. Good things all."

An eyebrow rose as he glanced over at the sprawl of pretty elf on his bed. For all his time spent around artists, he argued he was no connoisseur. He could tell when someone had it, but the creation of art and its true appreciation felt beyond him. Sometimes things made him introspective, but often that was uncomfortable.

"The two of you sounded great together. Seems like a real simpatico." He had already had to explain to a lusty patron that Arvalyn was not taking new clients and the minstrel wasn't a proper employee of Madame Lunaria. "Oh, you know me. I'm just trying to make the place less shitty than where we came from."

[Arvælyn]

"I didn't..." Arvalyn smiled faintly, "I get nervous when I look right at the audience- especially when there are people I know there, so I always look over their heads when I'm facing that way." Aurin's face would have made him most nervous of all, he reckoned. Being in the same room with both Aurin and Finn was too bizarre- like disparate worlds colliding.

He cocked his head to one side, pondering the way Aurin slipped in a few comments about Finn- how they'd slipped away together, how they harmonised, 'simpatico' he'd even called it. Maybe he'd picked up on something, without Arry having had to mention anything about his burgeoning crush or its recent post show culmination. Still, he made the conscious decision to take the bait. It was really what he'd come here to broach anyway, in his round about half-arsed way.

"We're supposed to, um... Have dinner tomorrow night and then take in a show, Finn and I." Arry explained, feeling a flood of anxiety wash over him as he said so. He knew that Aurin didn't operate the same way that he did, but he didn't really understand how Aurin's mind worked pertaining to matters of the heart, so all he could do was consider how he would feel in the same situation. He'd have felt awful if one of his roles in Aurin's life was supplanted by another. In point of fact, he had felt that way when he perceived that Torin had done just that, which was what perked the little flicker of self-preservation that had urged him to think of Finn in romantic terms to begin with.

"It's sort of a... date, I think." He didn't just think it, he knew it. It had been stated explicitly in their exchange on the rooftop, but somehow making it seem more ambiguous made it easier to admit. Overcome with nerves at how Aurin might respond, he quickly blurted out a query before the human could verbally react: "How're you an Torin doing?" He'd never asked anything of the sort before. He typically pretended the other human didn't exist and if he was forced to do otherwise, he got snarky. He'd certainly never asked after the boy with any genuine concern before.

[Aurin]

"That's exciting," he said of the impending date. Absent was his usual snark for all things. A part of him worried after Arry's heart, of course, as he had seen courtesans give up the sexual services aspect and pin their hopes on one person for romance and seen it end terribly until they figured out how to exist in a world where their sexual services weren't up for the highest bid. But all he had heard of the minstrel was positive, and he would be there to pick up the pieces if things went poorly.

"I don't suppose you've come to hear about the birds and the bees?" There was the snark, but it was gently teasing, not malicious. Arry ought to be able to tell the difference by now, at least when Aurin was speaking. Then again, Aurin hadn't been the best at communicating with Arry recently — or perhaps ever. They did seem to keep fighting about the same things.

But he had asked after Torin, similarly without his usual snark, so Aurin tried to answer similarly.

"I haven't seen him since our joint supper," he admitted. Torin had fashioned a means to communicate daily, of course, though not for very long at all. It was nice to check in, he found. Especially when his mind was in the mode of managing the various employees of the Cabaret, he could put his worry for one person to rest so he could focus on everyone else. "He's doing well, though. Working hard to make his own solo debut next season." There had been some little talk of that at the supper, but he didn't know if Arry had been paying much attention beyond being blinded by potential limelight in his own future. This didn't bother Aurin — he had tried to encourage practical self-interest in Arry; that was how one survived the rigors of life, after all.

[Arvælyn]

"No, no..." Arry chuckled more emphatically than the jest might have warranted, but a lot of the enthusiasm was born of relief that Aurin didn't seem to be upset. The laughter faded rather abruptly, when he realised Aurin's blitheness wasn't exactly complimentary to him.

"I've retained those lessons from when you first tutored me and gods know I've put them to enough practise by now..." He noted, pushing himself to sitting upright and placing his hands on his knees, listening as Aurin made his generously succinct reply to the question about Torin.

"Actually, though..." He paused, knitting his brow as he formulated his thoughts. "I wouldn't mind a bit of guidance. Obviously I've known Finn now for over a season, but we've mostly been together in a professional capacity, or... At least a friendly one. I doubt he really considered me romantically, given my whilom profession, but-... I was wondering if you could advise me as to what parts of myself I should temper or conceal to start with?" He didn't pause long, the stream of his thoughts pouring somewhat manically past his lips.

"The people who seem most enamoured of me are those who get me in small doses. I don't know how to sustain someone's interest. I'm good at playing a role, once I know the character, and I'd really like to keep him on the line- at least long enough that we become too routine to cast away with cavalier disregard. You know me better than anyone in and out of character, so I thought you might 'ave summat to say on the matter." He wrinkled his nose,

"How do I fool him into thinking I deserve him for long enough to keep him?"

[Aurin]

Uncertain whether Arry's words carried backhanded meaning, Aurin made the choice to take his words plainly and speak plainly in return. Everyone was always playing a role, but he wasn't sure he liked where his ward was going with this. If he had taken Arry into his bed, it hadn't been just to get his rocks off. The boy had wanted experience before he made it a bit of a career. It had felt good to be closer to him, and Aurin wasn't going to apologize. He frowned. He tried not to find barbs hidden in Arry's words. They might be there, but fuck if he was going to be caught like a fish on a line.

Apparently, that was how he saw his pretty minstrel.

"A lot of people want the courtesan to fall in love with them," he said, reiterating a conversation they had certainly had before now. "I don't know him. I don't know if he didn't call on you because he wanted to be professional about your songwriting collaboration or for some other reason, but unless you're going to try to devil it out of him, you ought to just let it rest or you'll torture yourself with it." He bit back a joke about the clients who enjoyed watching a bit of self-flagellation. "I don't know shit about that music, but if you wrote that song together, seems as though there's already some genuine intimacy there. Lean into that. You still work at the Velvet Cabaret for the time being and he's taking you out on the town.

"If you think he just wants to fuck a courtesan for free..." He paused, shook his head. "No, you'd've sussed that out before now. Apparently, he likes you." There was a lilt of teasing in that last bit, but he didn't go for the throat as they often did in their banter. "Perhaps he can see the mask of Arvalyn and Arry underneath and be all right with both of them. Perhaps soon you won't have to be Arvalyn... or you can... I don't know, find a way to be yourself.

"I mean," he paused, laughing with self-derision, "the conventional wisdom is that relationships depend on honesty and being oneself."