Canary in a Coal Mine, ii. [Florian]

[Eitan Angevin]

"Hey," he said when Albrecht came to sit at the table with him. He only nodded at the question, and the Lysanrin barely waited for that to tuck into the meal. A smirk dove into his coffee cup and disappeared into the darkness while they ate in relative silence. For the moment, at least, everything was simple and easy. There were still things to be addressed, but that would come later.

While he wasn't as ravenous as his private, he ate well, too. There were some few leftovers, which he would leave for the recuperating patient.

"Of course," he said. To him, there had been no question about bringing food. He took his role as a caretaker seriously, and what had transpired in the Warrens had been a blow to his ego as much as anything. There was a part of him that wanted to prove both to himself and to Albrecht that he was fit to be his Watcher and his XO. And if there had been a sliver of doubt, the way the Lysanrin gobbled up the berries made it clear that this minor gesture on his part was a real treat for the junior officer.

"I managed to shove something down before I passed out last night," he allowed, "but warding isn't as traumatic on the body as siphoning and discharging, I should think." He wondered more Lysanrin didn't think of it as a curse the way the aether manipulated them as much as they manipulated it when they learned the craft of it. Then again, there were those in the Order who, against all better judgment and warning from those who taught them, wanted more magical power to corrupt them.

"I can fetch something that'll keep for you to have after you wake up from your next nap." His smirk was teasing, but not unkind. He figured Albrecht wasn't done recovering and deserved the chance to do so.

[Florian]

"What? No, you don't have to buy me any more food." A rich statement, to be sure, considering that Florian wasn't sure if he had anything but stale bread in his pantry. Usually he trekked to his mother's apartment if he wanted a real meal, or he picked something up nearby, but he wasn't actually any skilled at cooking. Anything he did buy tended towards going bad before he had a chance to eat it.

"I don't eat that much, anyway. This is enough." Florian had mostly finished eating, though occasionally his hand darted out to grab another berry from the rapidly shrinking supply. "Thank you."

His mind circled back to the comment about magic and how traumatic it was. Aether siphoning seemed particularly traumatic on the body, though he didn't know much about magic in general. Negation was his most familiar, and that was from his brief study of Eitan's use. He hadn't much of a chance to actually study other uses of magic, and especially not up close. Not that he was entirely unfamiliar with the practice — elementalism was one he had known about even before he met him, and masquerade. But his knowledge of them were limited to knowing that they did things with elements and created illusions.

"From what I know, which isn't that much, siphoned aether is toxic. But using my own is painful, and both make me sick after a point." He yawned again, still in the process of waking up despite the meal and conversation. "But if you asked me seasons ago why I desired to control this curse, and told me what would happen, nothing would change. I'd still learn." The magic provided a sense of security for him, a way to defend against the strange and unknown. He hoped it was no march towards certain death, but the Order of Reconcilators worked in odd ways and he had no understanding of their intentions, or the real reasons behind their decisions.

He drank from the water this time as the strangeness of the morning settled in. He did not know what possessed him lend the key to his apartment, and while it'd worked out favorably, he was confused by himself.

"I'm not..." He paused. Words were hard. "I was just scared. That's why I cried." He had been scared both times he cried in front of Eitan, but the blatant display felt especially awkward for some reason. "But I don't think you actually want to hurt me."

[Eitan Angevin]

Angevin shrugged it off. No supper, then. But he wasn't upset that his offer had been rebuffed. Sometimes he was able to accept help, and other times, he wanted people to respect him enough to let him take care of himself. He couldn't fault Albrecht for wanting the same. In any case, it seemed to him as though Albrecht didn't eat much when he was in some sort of emotional turmoil, so the fact that he was scarfing things down now was probably a good sign.

"I eat a lot," he offered, "but I'm awfully active. If I didn't eat enough, I would run out of steam quickly." His dark eyes settled on the Lysanrin for a while as he chewed thoughtfully on a bite of savory pastry and an idea. After swallowing, he said, "I wonder if the Order has any artifacts that would filter the aether for you. Huh. Well, I will try not to make you hold onto it for any long period of time if possible. Wouldn't want you rotting." He grinned.

Then he sobered because Albrecht started referencing feelings again. He swallowed, but it was just spit.

"I'm glad you know that." Slowly, "Perhaps it is a good thing when we train. Weary the body to make it stronger, let out the anger and aggression in a way that is constructive instead of destructive. I suppose 'tis in both our natures to be volatile, and we have our ways of coping. At least now I know that if we are going into the Warrens, I need to ward us against mental intrusions. I know how to ward against Mesmer, which allows a mage to meddle with one's emotions. It shouldn't be difficult to tweak that to the sort of mesmerism those wraith beasties have as a matter of course."

He looked more intently at Albrecht.

"We survived. We will adapt. We won't be vulnerable to that in the future." He offered an encouraging smile.

[Florian]

Florian watched Eitana as he spoke, but his attention was soon distracted by his own hands. He stretched out his fingers and curled them up again. The myriad scars littered his skin from the tips of his fingers to his elbows and further; he was nothing if not a survivor. And for so long he had survived by the skin of his teeth, with no one but his mother in the world to rely on. He wondered if he had grown too comfortable to rely so much on Eitan. They spent so much time together, on and off the Noble Gambit, and he cared about him, past his pretty face, despite his attitude. He may be his superior, but Florian was never much one for hierarchies, and on ground, he took what liberties he could.

And it seemed that Eitan cared about him, too. He was in his apartment, after all, with a nice breakfast, of his own accord. Maybe he felt guilty about the day before. Florian hated the feeling of relying on someone like this, even for his own safety. He stretched again in his chair. Eitan could forgive him for still being a bit tired.

"I have always survived. I have always adapted. I didn't live this long in this world because I am immutable." Florian took another drink of his water, and then gave a small smile back at Eitan. "At least now I know better what to expect." His excitement for breakfast had overshadowed the soreness from the adventure the day before, but now he felt it again, a pain that soaked to the bones. It was not so unbearable, but it was present enough. He rubbed his legs, as if the pressure could relieve the soreness that permeated them. The act was also an attempt to soothe his anxiety. There was a small, cynical part of him that believed his shocking of Eitan could be used against him, though it seemed improbably to the point of impossible. He had shocked the sense back into him, literally.

"Could you walk with me to my mother's?"

[Eitan Angevin]

A smirk curled across his lips when Albrecht began tooting his own horn. Confidence was good; arrogance was not. Thankfully, it didn't seem as though Albrecht was arrogant. Whether because the world slapped him down often enough ot keep him in his place or just a more realistic understanding of the world was behind it, Angevin hoped it would serve him—and them—well.

He was about to get up and start kneading Albrecht's shoulders for him when he made his request, and Angevin just nodded in response. Standing, he began to efficiently tidy up, throwing away the rubbish, and putting what was salvageable away where it would keep until Albrecht got home again. There was no hint of service to it, but rather military discipline. When moving between the modest luxury of his rooms at the Angevin estate to the spartan quarters at the airfield barracks and on the airship, he was able to exist in multiple worlds, but when there weren't servants about, he defaulted to taking care of things himself.

"Mama's boy," he finally muttered once he was ready to go. It was mocking, but there was a hint of something. His birth mother was a scapegoat for all that was wrong with his life. His stepmother was all cold hatred. Even his best friends' mother was a foreign dragon. The nanny had been found a new job abruptly before he was prepared. His grandmother was a prickly woman. He understood the words people said when they spoke of their mothers, but he could not empathize. He had no firsthand experience of maternal love.

With a quick glance at Albrecht's bed, he considered returning to his own for a nap. Or perhaps he would go train, pushing through his weariness. He was a weapon of Zaichaer, after all. It didn't occur to him he would be invited in.

"Shall we, then?"

[Florian]

Before Florian had a chance to stand and do it himself, Eitan was already putting things away. He instead busied himself with putting his shoes on. He heard his comment, but he couldn't dispute the fact. It didn't even really feel insulting.

"I have no family but her, and for a very long time, no friends. Who else's boy could I be?" He laughed, like it was a joke and not an incredibly depressing statement. It was a fact of his life. He could not imagine a life without his mother. She had always told him that he was destined for great things, even while she nursed his injuries from alleyway scraps and soothed him from nightmares. She helped him get blood out of his clothing, she taught him how to throw a punch. He didn't really know the relationship Eitan had with his own family, just that it was fraught. He debated asking him about his own mother, but he decided against it. Maybe he'd share more about his family in his own time, but it seemed like an uncomfortable thing to press.

They left the apartment and started the walk to her apartment. He was familiar as any with the route, but Florian deliberately avoided looking at anyone - or anything - that was not directly in front of him. He wasn't quite anti-social, but even in a neighborhood with more Lysanrin than anywhere else in Zaichaer, he felt uncomfortable interacting with strangers. There had been exceptions to the rule, like when he inadvertently ended up joining a drinking game in a bar, but for the most part, he kept to himself. Eitan was another exception, but there had been exceptional circumstances, and Florian had spent more time with him than anyone else but his own mother in the span of a month.

"It's her birthday, the last day of the season. Mine is the first day of the season. I always thought that was funny. I was going to try and get her a necklace or something, now that I can spare the coin." The walk was short, and he rambled. Even though Verowa End was one of the safer neighborhoods, with the most disciplined neighbors, Florian did not feel safe until he made it to her doorstep. He knocked on the door, and Ava opened with a smile that grew with recognition.

"I was wondering if I was going to see you today. And you brought Eitan again?" She looked past Florian at the taller man.

"Hi mama. We already ate." He felt the need to get that out of the way before she tried to prepare them even more food when he hadn't finished his first meal. She opened the door wider for them to enter, and even after Florian went inside and began to take off his shoes, she held it for Eitan.

"Come in," She said to him with a tone that told she would not take no for an answer. She cast a dubious glance to where Florian crouched in front of a small bookshelf. "What'd you eat?"

"He brought me breakfast. Sausage and egg pastries, berries, coffee..." Florian recited this as he perused her books. He had read everything on the shelf many times, and books had been a luxury he had not indulged in himself. Meanwhile, Ava's head turned to Eitan as Florian listed off the meal, but she didn't comment.

"I wasn't feeling well yesterday, so he came to check on me." Florian deliberately left out the visit to the Warrens and how he had hurt himself. And she liked Eitan; he didn't want to give her a reason to think he was a threat.

Ava's expression had trended towards concern. "And you're feeling fine now?" Florian nodded, and then he looked back at Eitan.

"Do you like to read?"

[Eitan Angevin]

Angevin almost replied with you're my boy, but he realized it was a destabilizing tactic that he had internalized from his Order training and he didn't know that it would be helpful to bind Albrecht so tightly to him that he could never function alone. The stakes were high enough for both of them that some kind of emotional bond would help them succeed, but therein was a vulnerability, as well.

While the Lysanrin kept his gaze on the straight and narrow, his human keeper walked like he owned the place. He looked wither he wished, perhaps seeking out ne'er-do-wells and injustices that needed correcting. In any case, they arrived at Ava Albrecht's home without any trouble. Perhaps it was his visible sidearm and confident stride.

"Ma'am," he said by way of greeting, then removed his shoes and set them in their place by the door before entering fully. "He says it like I haven't been telling him since we met that I'm going to take care of him as best I can." He rolled his eyes. In reality, Albrecht had reason to worry and distrust; it was just that if he wanted any shot at survival, he was going to have to cleave to Angevin as his best chance.

"For once, he ate like a human instead of a bird," he added, knowing it would please the woman to know her son had an appetite. It was clear Albrecht didn't want her to worry, so Angevin was reassuring.

"Sometimes," he said, perusing the titles over Albrecht's shoulder. He would have to find a nice book or two to have delivered before her birthday, so he made a note to ask Albrecht whether his selection was appropriate. "I used to read adventure stories as a boy. Mysteries, as well. There was a literature component to my education, so I know the classics well enough. I don't much read for pleasure anymore, though. Between the airship, the Order, social requirements, my family, and all..."

Certainly, Albrecht took up a great deal of his time, but he wasn't a particular reason why the man didn't have time for leisure reading. It was just the life he led now.

[Florian]

Ava returned to cleaning her kitchen instead of hovering. Florian continued to rifle through the shelves until he pulled out a particularly worn volume. The Butterfly Knight was embossed on the cover, plain to see. He returned to the couch with it in hand, and left room for Eitan to sit if he chose.

"I think this counts as an adventure book." He started flipping through the pages. "Have you read it? It's about a man who spends his early years as a rogue-knight-turned-bandit until he stumbles upon a grove of butterflies. The beauty shocks him so deeply that he renounces his life of banditry and roams the countryside helping people. He adopts a butterfly as his sigil, and eventually he meets the prince of the kingdom in his travels. He and the prince become such close friends — and the knight becomes so renowned — that he is betrothed to the princess." He paused as he reached the page he was looking for, and presented before Eitan is a woodblock print illustration in the middle of the book. A human man stands in a garden, surrounded by trees and flowers and endless butterflies. His profile is faced skyward, and a butterfly has landed on his nose while his hand has reached to draw his sword. A caption at the bottom reads, "The Knight Florian is reborn."

"I think I've read this book dozens of times. It's not a hard book to read, it's for children, but it's remained my favorite." Florian shrugged, as if he had not just revealed a massive part of his heart and his history to the man whose job may one day be to put a caster shell in his brain. "I've always suspected it was a romance, too, but not with the princess." He chuckled.

"It's always been a very important book to me. It helped me realize I could have...agency in myself, my identity."

[Eitan Angevin]

Angevin wasn't sure why he had been invited in while Ava was cleaning, but he followed Albrecht to sit down and peruse the book. Eventually, he nodded. He just hadn't wanted to interrupt him when it was clearly something important to him.

"I've read that one," he acknowledged. "I didn't know you were named after the knight." Florian wasn't an uncommon name in these parts, but he hadn't thought to connect it with the storied knight. He smiled and it didn't even look judgmental. But here they were sitting on his mother's couch, Albrecht not quite spilling his emotional guts, but sharing. There were things in his own life that were similar if not the same, but he didn't feel obliged to share. He didn't want Albrecht to think less of him.

Most of the time, his bloodline faded into the background. Some people brought it up to be snide, but they were beneath him and so the cuts didn't bleed. There was still something blessed, if fragile, about someone just taking him for how he presented himself. He had flaws enough without being half-Dratori. His smile faded a bit into something more thoughtful. He wanted to say that Albrecht's agency had already served him well: choosing to use his curse for the State not only kept him alive; it kept other citizens of the High City alive. There was something heroic about that, even if most people would never acknowledge it as such.

There were plenty of things he ought to have said. Instead, he whispered, "I want to get your mother a book for her birthday, so I will have to run a few ideas by you later."

[Florian]

As Eitan spoke, Florian just laughed. "I guess that's one way of saying it. I picked the name myself." The Butterfly Knight had been such a formative book for him, and he was glad that he'd read it. It wasn't a rare book by any means. He realized that Eitan likely didn't realize the complexities of who he was and how he was this, but he didn't really have the words for it, either. It was a concept that felt almost isolated to himself. He'd never met anyone like him before, at the very least. Eitan seemed to accept it and him, though, which was as bewildering as it was nice. He required no explanation.

He folded the book closed and held it in his lap. "Let me know," he whispered back. "You can take a look at the bookshelf yourself. All those books are hers, but she likes to read nonfiction, too. About animals and history." And then he stood up, book in hand, and placed it back on the shelf. As he turned back to Eitan. "I desperately need to take a bath. Sorry for dragging you inside for such a short time. I'll see you later." It might have been a rude departure, but he wasn't lying in any of his explanation, and he didn't think he'd mind, anyway. With that, he disappeared down the hallway.