Burn Faster [Aurin]

[Arvælyn]

Arry pursed his lips, exhaling heavily through his nostrils as a sadness darkened his golden eyes. He didn't need to use his rune to recognise the notes of sacrifice resonating in Aurin's words. For him.

He clinked his glass against Aurin's and contrived a smile, though he didn't really feel it. Especially not after Aurin elaborated further.

"You would think being a prostitute would have demystified sex enough..." He sipped the drink he'd been holding aloft, and placed it down in a graceful gesture. "But it was rather the opposite. Or, at least, it showed me how to distinguish fucking from making love. I made love with you, whilst fucking clients and it didn't feel off to me. Torin?" The upper left quadrant of his lip twitched in the intervening pause,

"I don't know why it bothers me so much, seeing how he moons over you. Maybe I was just jealous no one regarded me with such reverence. Maybe, all this time, I was jealous of you, rather than him..." He furrowed his brow, misliking that notion.

"Not that I've ever wanted to fuck Torin, mind you." Now it was Arry who was grateful for the fresh cocktails, and he promptly drew his own back to his lips.

"I'm not sure whether that's a generous offer or a cruel one." He observed, as he placed the coupe back down on the table. If Aurin was always going to be sexually available, it opened dark doors. Arry knew himself well enough to know that he might someday get into a fight with Finn, drink himself into a stupour, and weaponise Aurin's affections.

He sat up as the plates were placed in front of them. The sight was enough to excavate a genuine smile from Arry,

"Ah! I forgot I'd ordered 'The shrimp thing'." He chuckled as he plucked up a piece of crostini and scooped some of the shrimp salad onto it with a spoon.

[Aurin]

"I don't know either," he finally answered once Arry was digging into the shrimp thing. "It's just an honest one. I've never tried to be deceptive with you... but I'm going to try to be more forthcoming. At least then, when we fight, it'll hopefully be over the real reason and not... you know, nothing. At least if we fight, it might lead to resolving whatever's wrong."

He watched Arry enjoy the appetizer for a few moments, mulling over Torin. The idea that he was envious and jealous of Aurin had crossed his mind, but he didn't know how to get to the meat of the matter without battering through Arry and his feelings in a way that wouldn't have the desired effect. After the half-elf had enjoyed the appetizer for a while, he had some himself. It was good, but he enjoyed it more for the pleasure it gave his companion than anything else.

In a way, he supposed this was his version of the trick that had so pissed him off. He enjoyed the fine food and drink, but he would have been just as happy somewhere humbler. He plied Arry with the trappings of the high life to make him happy. Arry had only tried to do the same with the power allotted him. Aurin would have to think about that.

"The money should start flowing in by the beginning of next season," he said, changing the subject, though it was also bringing them back around to something related to the Theater. "Then I can be paying you for services rendered." He smirked, but knew Arry wouldn't mistake informant for prostitute. "Between that and what you could reasonably expect to be making at the Theater, I have been scouting out places you might rent or buy. Ah, even some you might rent or buy with another person... There are some good deals out there, maximizing glamour and minimizing cost. I could start showing them to you if you want. Not tonight. Too late. But soon. If you want."

[Arvælyn]

"Well, if there's a problem it's mine, not yours. You don't owe anything to..." It felt weird saying Finn's name just now, so he didn't: "...him." He took another bite of his appetizer- trying his best not to be the ravenous street urchin in such luxurious environs.

"That would be nice." He chuckled, considering the notion of a productive argument with a coherent resolution, rather than getting blackout drunk and either waking alone or entwined with Aurin and just feeling too hungover to hold a grudge, as had been his erstwhile pattern.

His mind wandered back to Aurin's admission and what it meant for him. He believed what he'd said moments earlier- That Aurin wasn't responsible for Finn. His saviour barely even knew his minstrel, and Arry was responsible for his own actions. Anything short of physical force was on Arry, and he knew Aurin wouldn't push things that far. Not after what he'd just read writ upon the red-head's soul...

"Oh?" He perked a bit- his ears twitching slightly, as the conversation turned to business. He bit the bottom half of his smile, as Aurin fed his fantasies.

"You have?" The half-elf tilted his head, a bit surprised and a bit confused that Aurin had taken the initiative to seek out lodging for him. Thus far, he'd been planning to shoot for the same kind of set-up he had presently at the Velvet Cabaret. He'd have been find, for a while, just carving out some little corner- turning a utility closet into his boudoir, until he'd saved enough to live in the manner to which he hoped to grow accustomed. He washed down the appetizer and the notion with a splash of his salty cocktail.

"That sounds fun. Did anything you looked at sing to you as a place I might appreciate?"

[Aurin]

"You know, if you didn't feel the need to sit in the most visible spot in the place with the most dramatic lighting, you could eat that as fast as you'd like to," he noted, amused. "Should we order another or will you be full after your meal?"

Regardless, he chuckled. His own eating habits were odd due to his upbringing and history, so he hadn't ever really gone after Arry for his. Survival first, then thriving. But he was also wondering exactly what Arry had meant about not owing his minstrel anything; was that an invitation? If they could hash out proper boundaries and modes of communication, he would be able to be more forthcoming about his desire for Arry. He tabled it for now, having to think about it more before he asked outright, and thinking Arry might need more time before entertaining the idea at all.

"Well, yes," he began slowly. "I was looking mostly at places in the Plaza so you would be close to work and you know the area, and there are several places I think you would like. I mean, you live in a closet so they would be steps up, any of them." He smirked, but Arry knew the subtleties of his smirks well enough to know it wasn't meant to be mean. And he knew Aurin well enough, especially after the voluntary submission to his trick, to know he would have been just as happy if Arry had never moved out of his little cottage.

"But a little fox I know told me about a little place up in Adira's Promenade. It used to be servants' quarters for a larger manor, but the House that owned it fully subdivided it and let it out separately. Quite nice, really. Doesn't look like servants' quarters. It's adjoining the manor, but no connecting doorways or anything. Two floors. Nice view from the balcony. Entirely inconvenient for working at the Theater, but at least regular promenading from the Promenade would keep you from getting fat now you'll be eating this shrimp stuff for breakfast every day..." He chuckled. "Lots of empty space you'd have to furnish, but I could help with that... I don't know. Maybe premature and everything's more expensive up there, but I think you'd like the prestige of your address there."

[Arvælyn]

"Don't judge me." Arry pouted, "I must suffer for my art." He flashed his eyes wide in a sort of crazed, dramatic expression that turned into a grin as he laughed it off.

"Just the one is fine." He said, pushing the appetizer aside. Since Aurin had noticed his trend toward gluttony, he supposed any random onlooker might. It was best to practice moderation. This didn't seem to extend from eating to drinking, however, as he now occupied his lips about the rim of his cocktail coupe.

He listened eagerly to the rundown of potential homes he might soon occupy. Aurin was right enough- Anything he proposed was superior to his current set-up. Sure, the price (or lack thereof) was right in the auxiliary costume closet, but it was cramped, quickly grew very hot with the door closed, and there were all sorts of loud clanks and clatters from the kitchen right below or from drunken guests stumbling through the hallway outside seeking a water closet or a boudoir.

His ears perked at the last option Aurin proposed.

"A manor, you say..." He glossed over the bit about it having been servants quarters. "The address is the thing, innit." He agreed. "Even it's a bit farther off from work, it's- Well, it's like I said about the food a moment ago: I must suffer for my art." And living in a manor would certainly lend to the sort of legitimacy he was trying to foster with this transition to The Golden Peacock.

He stretched his legs out under the table and crossed them at the ankle under Aurin's chair. He could feel one foot resting against something, though whether it was Aurin's shin or the leg of his chair, Arry knew not nor did he seek to remove it in either instance.

[Aurin]

Aurin had another morsel of the shrimp appetizer, but left plenty behind. He knew that Arry's attempt at moderation wouldn't hold up against a server coming to take it away. Of course, he teased; he also wondered if his complementary desire to feed Arry was a weird, problematic paternal thing, but he didn't bring it up lest it spawn discomfort. In any case, when he felt Arry's leg touch his under the table and then not move away, he gently crossed his ankles as well so they were engaged in a silly sort of embrace. It was a shared secret under the fall of fine linen tablecloth, but it was a strange sort of comfort as well.

"Yes, well," he continued, "I got to take a look, but they are doing some minor renovations—like walling over the doors that were connecting it to the main manor house. So it won't be officially on the market until Ash. But we could go look again so you can get an idea of what will be on offer. We might even be able to set you up with a lease before it goes on the market. A lot of times, rich folk like that just want an easy tenant so if they don't have to lift a finger to get an easy tenant, all the better. We'll just be sure you have your contract with the Theater signed and, if need be, a contract with Foxes so you'll have plenty of proof of income. Oh, your contract with Foxes will be as an entertainer so nobody will ask questions. I suppose that means we will have to throw the odd party and invite people we want to ply with intoxicants and finesse secrets out of..."

He smirked. Of course, he would use those parties to lubricate business deals of many sorts. He wasn't trying to create a criminal underground, but he would leverage every advantage to make deals that would benefit his company and the people he cared about.

"But we should check out the Plaza places too, even if only so you know what options are available to you. Having options to choose from always elevates your position."

[Arvælyn]

After a brief pause, Arry reached across for another piece of the toast and crunched down on it, as Aurin elaborated upon his potential options for future lodging. He liked to imagine living someplace fancy. He had a very active fantasy life, and living in some manor on a hill was certainly part of the regular rotation, but it hadn't felt like something so close at hand. It felt remote- like true stardom, though he knew such things could happen overnight. He also knew that was rarely the case.

"That makes sense..." Arry conceded, "I'd rather be listed that way regardless." He considered himself to be an Entertainer by trade and a spy by circumstance. He performed the latter role as much for Aurin as for himself. It was a preferable side-hustle to prostitution, in Arry's reckoning. It promised to pay better, it benefited his little family and was part of the reason he was to be afforded these new opportunities at the Golden Peacock. It certainly wasn't part of his aforementioned fantasy life, but neither was it something he actively disliked as hooking had ultimately become.

"Options are good. I like options." Arry agreed with a profuse nod, as he finished up his last bite of the toast he'd plucked up moments earlier.

"Looks like we've got our work cut out for us, what with getting you a passable wardrobe and getting me a passable domicile." It really did feel as though they were advancing their stations, finally. Looking back now, he was able to realise he'd been in a rut for a while, which he didn't notice when he'd been in its midst. Only now that moves were being made, did he see how static he'd been for so long. He smiled to himself and tapped Aurin's leg a few times with his foot,

"You're going to run this town soon enough, aren't you?"

[Aurin]

"That's the plan," he said with a wicked, conspiratorial grin. "At least, as much as any man without wings can run this town."

But they both knew that the Avialae didn't control life down here on the ground. Perhaps there weren't enough of them, or enough of them were committed to protecting them from the Warrens and Zaichaer's airships and the like. But Aurin knew how to fill a power vacuum. Now he just had to keep his eyes and ears open and find his way to the next level. He didn't know how long it would be until he would want more, but he knew the trap of wealth and power. One always got to a point where they realized there were wealthier, more powerful people, and the desire to be able to protect what one had led to wanting more in order to secure it.

And endless cycle, but he hoped to keep his eyes open on this journey.

His ankles locked lightly around Arry's and he said, "I just want you to wake up so happy every morning that you assume you're still dreaming."

Thankfully, or perhaps strategically, he said that right before the server showed up with their entrees, so he was saved Arry's response. Perhaps it was a game, sneaking a bit of vulnerability into the conversation when it would be easy to scuttle back into the safety of his emotional armor. It reminded him of a hermit crab, but it seemed as though he hadn't fucked up all his relationships after all, and while his life might never be the subject of a ballad, he wouldn't be a hermit.

"Thank you," he said to the waiter. "I'll have another when you have a chance, as well."

When he smiled, it lit up, a little trick of Masquerade. He knew how to make the light shine more brilliantly upon him without being obvious. Perhaps that was why he saw magic as tricks unless one wore the robed uniforms of a proper mage. Certainly, he hadn't meant to diminish the bequest of Arry's mother. He mostly left that topic alone unless Arry brought it up.

[Arvælyn]

"We can always get you some prop wings from the Golden Peacock now that you'll have access, so you can better assimilate with the ruling class?" For someone who'd made such bold claims about their own life, it may not have been evident that Arry was in jest.

Arry pouted slightly at the sweet little hope Aurin expressed. If he thought his little feint was enough to derail the half-elf from latching onto the comment, though, he was sorely mistaken. Arry fished for compliments like a snapping turtle, and his beak was already dug into the meat of that one by the time his entrée was placed before him. He didn't even break eye-contact to order his next drink, instead holding up two fingers after Aurin verbally ordered his own.

"What a sweet thing to say." He announced, moments after said sweet thing had been uttered. "I'd settle for contentment, but I like your idea better. And, of course, I hope the same for you." He tipped his head slightly downward and took up his silverware- suddenly he was struck by Aurin's smile. He was truly so dashing, Arry thought, as he shifted his foot slightly just to remind Aurin where it rested. He bit his lip and forced his eyes down to his plate which, though it was a lovely presentation, was not so striking to look upon as his date for the evening.

He took a bite, and sighed happily through his nose. He washed it down with a sip of his cocktail, before invoking Aurin's aspiration once again,

"This tastes so good I feel as though I might be dreaming, even now. Thank you for dragging me out of bed today."

[Aurin]

Aurin smirked at the thought of wearing prop wings; it seemed to work when actors wore them for a performance. There was the willing suspension of disbelief. But outside the shared hallucination of a theater, he thought it would look ridiculous, especially on him.

"Well, don't tell anyone I said it. I've worked hard on my dependable asshole role, as much as you've become elven nobility on the lam. Anyway, contentment with sudden bursts of joy seems more like what you deserve." At least, to Aurin's mind, Arry deserved that. Whether anyone deserved happiness was a debate for someone else.

And they smiled at each other for a moment before Arry looked away; for once Aurin wasn't the one gunshy about feelings. He was, but at least he hadn't said the wrong thing to ruin it. He had just been quiet for once. But then he looked down at his food, a simple thing made complex for his enjoyment. He had good drinks, good food, and good company in a setting where he was fairly sure nobody was trying to kill him. This was often what he considered the best he could hope for, so he enjoyed it for the moment.

The moment might be fragile, but he was proud that they had cleaved to each other through the muck to get here. Their ankles maintained a hidden embrace, one even they couldn't see so they wouldn't joke about it and cheapen it. There would be bad days, bad times, fights, and all—but perhaps when there were moments like these in their shared memories, it would be enough to help them weather those storms until the sun came out again.

"I'm glad it helped," he said after swallowing a bite. It was damn good food, and he supposed they could get used to more of the same with both their stars rising. He glanced at Arry, hoping he would fill him in on the mystery, but he didn't raise an eyebrow or anything. He could let it go, let Arry take care of himself in certain circumstances, and only insist if it proved to be a worrying pattern.

"I'm going to have to start running more," he noted, "otherwise all the rich food we're going to eat is going to make me fat."