Legend of Ransera

Aurin laughed at how eagerly Torin took to the suggestion.

"Perhaps not so very high," he suggested mildly. "If one of us is injured, the other has to be able to get us back to the drop point. Let's not climb so high that death is a real and present danger."

He doffed his shoes as well as his socks, trusting his bare feet to feel out proper footholds better. It wasn't so cold he risked frostbite, and the exertion would keep hot blood flowing out to his extremities. He left his cloak behind too; he wouldn't need its warmth and it would be awkward while climbing, he thought. He mentioned climbing buildings in his youth, but he didn't say in which city or why he was doing it. Some who had known him would laugh to hear he was working in a cabaret by name that also acted as brothel and purveyor of intoxicants. If things had gone differently, he might have become a whore or a courtesan or something along those lines.

He certainly seemed to know the basics, but perhaps he was just acting as he observed the courtesans do after all these years. They were charmers, after all, not just warm orifices.

Conversation dwindled as they focused on handholds, footholds, balance, and endurance. Torin was stronger than him and would only grow stronger, but Aurin knew how to martial his strength. Perhaps that was something he could teach him, as well—how to make the best use of his strength for the greatest payoff. It was a meditative practice finally, much like his runs and his swims where he pushed his endurance as much as any particular skill. He didn't fall into a reverie, though, as he often did. Perhaps it was the inherent danger of climbing. Perhaps it was keeping an eye on Torin. Something kept him present even if they weren't conversing.

And then, hand over hand, they climbed until they found themselves a creditable way up, though nowhere near the crown of the pillar. It was a good exertion and his body had learned things it had known as a child and new things, as well. This would be an exercise he would be happy to repeat. The focus required kept him from worrying at any old thought like a dog with a bone. It was a nice break from reality, focusing on the very close reality of himself and the rock face.

Aurin, at least, wasn't afraid to look down. But he tugged on Torin's belt, catching him like a kitten, and then released it to take his hand.

"I won't let you fall," he promised. That promise ought to have been more of a comfort had he wings, but Torin seemed to think him invincible and all-knowing. It afforded him a warm feeling, but also a strange feeling of responsibility.

"We did it, though. Now enjoy the view and rest a bit so we can get down. I'm not letting you off the hook for supper even if you break a leg descending."

"A little," he admitted to the crushing. "It's nice." He didn't gainsay Torin when the lad decided to be the first down, nor remind him to be careful. They had enjoyed their momentary vantage, and now they focused on a safe descent. In no rush, Aurin took his careful time, considering a commission for much sturdier kunai that could act as pitons were he to climb and find a more sheer rock face that defied his clever hands. His descent was all economic movement, not wasting energy unnecessarily. As such, Torin had a few minutes to look up and watch his body in deliberate motion.

He almost called down to stop staring at his arse, but he didn't mind.

At the bottom, he dusted off his aching hands, flexing those as well as his muscles. There were small cuts that would sting for a few days, but no real damage was done. He nodded, having made no motion to sit. He knew Torin respected his intellect and store of knowledge; it wasn't condescension.

Pulling his boots on, he swung his cloak over his shoulders, though he didn't pull it close. His body needed to cool down, but he didn't want it to cool down too far too fast. It had been a while since he had been here and he wasn't sure he had ever been here in the winter, but he led the way toward a creek. If he remembered correctly, there was a pool with several boulders that would make decent seats. He found it. The trees were bare of leaves except for the evergreens that were a bit farther away. He had remembered it being darker for the foliage, but there was a certain beauty to the stark branches and the direct sunlight shining off the pool. It was only frozen around the edges, but the normal song of the brook was silenced. The little waterfall was an ice sculpture and, upon closer inspection, one could see that water trickled all but unnoticed down the ice still. Fish swam lazily beneath the surface.

Winter had slowed things, but not to a standstill.

He turned back, "Will this serve?"

Aurin's hand snatched the apple out of the air fast as an adder striking. He immediately took a bite out of it, savoring the juicy flesh. After swallowing, he answered.

"City was on a river so there were plenty of dunkings. Too dangerous to swim at this time of year, though. If the river started freezing over, it was all too easy to get pulled under the ice and get dragged downstream." But ice had been a rarity. All the same, the water got cold enough and the current got strong enough to steal lives. Never his, obviously.

"Next time you want an adventure, we'll have to go polar bear swimming in the lake." He laughed, finished his apple, and tossed the core into a brown bush. Some foraging creature might gnaw on the remains during this time of hunger. He answered questions, occasionally even offering a tidbit about himself. Thankfully Torin's questions never drew near topics he might have to lie about. When the lad was ready to move on, he hoisted himself up, stretching again because the cold had inevitably seeped into his joints. While he knew the lay of the land generally—it was always good to have escape routes—he wasn't exactly an avid outdoorsman. He had always been a shoe made for the city. In any case, he let the younger man take the lead on their hiking, only mentioning they ought to get back when it seemed like they were flirting with not getting back to the drop point by dark.

He didn't really want to walk the entire way back to the city. By the time they arrived, they would be cold, tired, and famished, and then they wouldn't so much enjoy their supper as fall upon it like wolves. Thankfully, they didn't miss their ride, and the view was spectacular in a different way in the late afternoon light. Aurin shamelessly leaned into Torin's bulk to share warmth as the high winds from the high places whipped at the airship.

Stretching discreetly when they debarked, he looked to his companion.

"Do you know where we're going from here or do you need me to lead the way?"

The older man left the threat hanging in the air, Torin's question unanswered. Let him worry that any time they were around the lake, Aurin was going to push him in. A little thrill would do him good. Being older, it took him a little longer to comfortably work the stiffness out of his limbs as Torin backpedaled away from him. But eventually he took a couple of long-legged, loping strides and caught him by the front of his shirt to stall him, then turned him around, pointing over the smith's shoulder so he could more easily sight the Astralarium.

"That dome there is part of it, hayseed. See if you can manage the hard streets of Kalzasi with a bad man at your heels." He chuckled darkly, then nudged him forward.

"Follow your nose. Don't disappoint me."

Supper had been promised, though Aurin was easy-going about most things. If they had parted ways then for the night, he would not have been cross. If supper wasn't amazing, he wouldn't be cross. But this was an experiment in human nature, as well—in Torin's nature—to see how he would react, how he would comport himself, to what lengths he would go to in order to please a new friend.

The smith had wanted more than his body heat on the flight back to the capital. Aurin did have a knack for attracting broken things, and while he was wicked, he did feel compelled to at least give them a hand, a bit of direction. There's the dome, kid. He didn't want to break Torin's mind over where to get something to eat, but people under stress gave up their tells rather more easily than they might otherwise.

The search became another opportunity to study Torin, who was unselfconscious while focused on his new mission and, likely, the tearing growl in his belly. Aurin was famished as well, but had lived through long periods of privation and was practiced in hiding it, in enduring in silence. Life is suffering, she had said. You just get used to it.

His study of Torin continued to yield the same results. He knew him to be diligent in his work pursuits. Honest. Curious. Energetic. Strong. Handsome. His master found him trustworthy enough to send him to deal with customers, as well. But for all his positive traits, there were his weaknesses: an intense need for attention, affection, and approval. Clay to be molded, certainly. Someone to be trusted, perhaps, although Aurin was a miser with that. At the very least, Aurin could train the oversized boy into a proper man and come out of it with a loyal follower. Friend. Whatever. While not in the business of fortunetelling, he could prognosticate that Torin might easily succeed as a runesmith, connecting him with merchants, soldiers, magi, and any number of people with money, influence, and intelligence, the which he could share with Aurin.

The villain smiled as they sipped at their ale and allowed the food in their bellies to settle. After the long day of exertion in the cold, having warm insides and warm outsides made him feel drowsy and relaxed, which told him he ought to go home so he could drowse and relax behind stone walls and a locked door. This place wasn't dangerous. He had already cased it for clientele, wondering at its strategic value. Part of him just wanted to keep drinking and drown out the calculating voice in his head. The voice was him, though, his training and his trauma. It took a lot of ale to drown it out.

The villain smiled still.

"You did good, kid," he said finally, drawing out his answer until he could practically see Torin's tail wagging in anticipation. "Although now the poor owners' children will starve since you ate them out of house and home." His smile twisted. It might give the impression of a knife twisting in the guts, but his teasing had only the slightest edge, enough to thrill but not to cut. As the level of their drinks waned, he yawned, stretched his arms over his head, and nodded, his eyes heavy-lidded. "Time to go."