Legend of Ransera

"Doting, eh?" he asked, musing. "Well, there's no accounting for tastes."

Aurin squinted sidelong at Arry.

"I asked if you were a cunt because... you're a cunt. And Arvalyn is a snobbish cunt. He's never said anything to me about you, but the last time I saw him, I was sewing up a wound." He walked in silence for a while, shifting a little to see whether his stitches would remain intact or pull uncomfortably. They seemed to be all right, though the wound was still aching. He could see how Arry might feel. Aurin was his foundation here; his had been the invitation, his had been the house where he stayed when he arrived, his had been the connection that got him his job. Torin wasn't much like Arry at all except in details. Wheat-blond hair to Arry's golden. New to Kalzasi.

But Arry dreamed about his career. Torin dreamed about someone to watch over him. Neither really threatened the other, though he knew well enough that when someone had very little, they would defend it with everything they had. It just hadn't occurred to him that Arry would get jealous about anything except the best billings and those weren't really within the purview of Aurin's employment. But quite a few of the employees of the Velvet Cabaret treated him much like he supposed one would treat an elder brother. At least, those for whom the Cabaret had become home and family.

"You're upset. Do you want to talk about it?" If he didn't, they might have an unpleasant evening together. Then again, if he did, it might still be unpleasant. All the same, Aurin would rather lance the wound and get the poison out than let it fester. The last thing he wanted was something septic between them.

"Well, that sounds great," he said, mildly for Aurin, when there was finally a break in Arry's monologue. "I haven't met him, but I've heard his name. Someone pulled him a couple of years or so back to fill in when we were understaffed and Madame Lunaria gave approval to invite him back in similar situations. High praise since she doesn't like paying out of house if she can help it. So other people seem to agree with your conclusions."

They trekked on toward the Wobbly Stool. He remembered another place quite near to it, apparently a rival, where a foul-mouthed minstrel had recited a limerick about the Wobbly Stool. It was a double entendre, he thought the word was. Anyway, his hip gyrations had really sold the joke but he didn't think the owners of the Wobbly Stool would appreciate it, nor Arry in that particular moment.

"I look forward to tomorrow morning's performance and to hearing your new, Academy-approved song, as well."

The streets were clear, but there was snow gathered up in out-of-the-way places. It was filthy in the street, but still pristine on rooftops. The "Jeweled Arches" were shrouded in white, her lusty colors blanked out by the Season of Frost. In some cultures, white was for weddings; in others, it was for mourning. For nature, at least, it was the latter, the season of death before the season of renewal. He hoped spring saw Arry growing like a new thing. Aurin wasn't much of a gardener, nor Arry his responsibility, but he tried to keep an eye out for him as best he knew how.

It was strange — in some ways, he could read human nature like an open book, understanding its subtleties and prepared to manipulate things to his advantage. In others, he was as blind as any beggar.

Aurin hadn't meant to poach Arry's secrets, so when he seemed to want to leave talk of his collaboration behind, the elder man let it go. He grunted at the thanks, just a vague sort of acknowledgment. Neither of them was comfortable with that sort of thing, he figured.

"The knife fight was sometime in the wee hours of the morning," he affirmed. "Didn't start it, but I finished it. Took care of the body and took myself home. Torin was outside chopping wood."

He laughed. "So, aye, industrious, I suppose. I let him do that while I sewed up the wound. Well, I let him finish when my hands got shaky..." He laughed again, self-deprecating. "I guess I'm getting old. I'd been up all night, lost some blood. Pain was all right. I don't know why he keeps coming back."

Well, he did know. Torin didn't have any close connections with anyone anymore and Aurin was a worldly person who was willing to fill in the gaps that his sheltered life had left in his education. If he didn't know why he came back, it was why he came back specifically to Aurin, and even that was just deep-seated insecurity he had within himself that he was unwilling or unable to unpack.

"You're probably right, though. He's like a stray. I fed him from the kitchens when he came to deliver something for Madame Lunaria and now he keeps coming back. Once in a while, anyway. Apprentices are busy folk. He's a good kid."

Aurin caught Arry's eye and drew a gentle line along one of his ribs. "Wound is there, so I'd be obliged if you wouldn't aim there when throwing punches for a while." He smirked, normally rather enjoying the chance to weather Arry's violence. It was an intimacy with which he was more comfortable.

Aurin wondered what Arry would think of him if he admitted that he liked the worshipful gaze, the innate service and submission that came so effortlessly to the runeforger's apprentice. He wondered too what Arry would think if he admitted that he was manipulating Torin into bonding to him because he would use him, albeit not so bad as others might. He had warned Torin that he was a bad man. The lad kept returning. He had warned Arry that he was a bad man, but Arry's situation had put him on the road of bad deeds for survival's sake.

He ought to be ashamed of himself, but he wasn't, which was probably worse.

For some reason, though, Arry hiding behind Arvalyn just then pissed him off. He felt the rune hidden under his bicep tingle with power as he wove an illusory filter over his voice, speaking back to the elf in his own voice.

"She Stoops to Conquer is playing tonight at the Golden Peacock," he said. "How droll, no? How deliciously apt, wot?"

And he laughed.

Perhaps it would be better if they fought. They were both so wound up, tight and tighter, wearing masks and playing roles. Arry played Arvalyn while he played Aurin, the rakish charmer with the heart of gold. Fool's gold, perhaps. Sometimes he wanted to shake Torin and scream at him, to say he might be naive, but he was too smart to waste himself on a person of no substance. Just the same, he longed for the day that Arry had no need of him and moved on.

Then, at least, when whichever fucking dragon god weighed his soul upon their scale found him wanting, he could flip them off and say he did one thing he was proud of. But for now, he was playing another dirty trick. Not the knee-jerk harm he had caused the first time he nearly crushed Arry's wrist in his hand, but this one perhaps more pernicious for seeming more innocuous.

Aurin patted Arry's shoulder but left him at the table for the time being. He walked up to the bar and smiled inwardly at the bar wench's curious reaction to the voice that didn't quite seem to fit with his face and form. After this much time knowing him and feeding him, he knew what Arry liked and ordered it. He paid for the pies and the drinks and brought them back to the table himself to save time so they could get to the theater with plenty of time for him to connive his way into seats for them.

Also, it seemed as though Arry needed a minute.

By the time he returned to the table, he had let his trick dissolve into the ether. He set the two pies down, describing their contents so he could choose. Both were nominally to his liking and Aurin would eat whichever one he didn't want. The mugs as well. He sat with his back to the door, which all but put his hackles up. It was fine. Nobody was trying to kill him. His fears by now must be irrational.

All he really knew how to do was upset Arry, or so it often seemed.

"I don't know that I would say I get jealous," he admitted, "but every time you disappear with a new client, I feel a... a twinge. I'm trying to help Lunaria protect all the kids but it's personal with you. I want to protect you... more. I know you've seen me after someone gets too rough with one of the kids... If something happened to you, I'd... I'd fucking lose it. My real family was garbage. And you're a twat, but... You're my family now, all right? It's complicated and it sucks, but it doesn't matter how many cocks you suck or how many strays come scratching at my door. That doesn't change anything. At least, for me. I'm going to be here for you until you don't need me anymore, all right? So, you can hate Torin. You can be pissed at me. But I need you to know that even if you hate him and you're mad at me, I'm still here for you. All right?"