Legend of Ransera

"I don't want you going down below," he said. "Not until we know more about what's going on with the key and the fucking bullshit brewing down there. If there's something down there that we have a chance of taking out, I won't make you sit out the fight, but I don't want you putting yourself at risk when the possible benefits are slim to none." He paused; that had come out a bit more forceful than he intended. But he was taking the kid under his wing, at least if the kid decided to play nice and stick around. Aurin could be a bit overprotective, though he let known quantities like Elwes and Ashoka make their own assessments before calling him in for backup.

"I mean, you won't be my prisoner and I can't keep an eye on you every moment, but I would rather you make more calculated risks. We can figure out where you can go that I can't go, and you can bring me intel from there. Like, I don't know, what other Lysanrin are doing..." He shrugged. "Not that I'm trying to give them any trouble. The world seems to do that on its own without any help from me. But people will say things around a kid they won't say around a man grown. We'll figure out how to use your situation for the best payout for both of us, all right?"

As for the rest.

"Noted. I'll bank my free question for a later date." He smirked, or maybe that was just his face.

"Elwes and I will train you up if you stick around. You're slippery. You're a survivor. We can help you get better at it." So that condition of the kid's was easily met.

"I just don't know enough about magic to ever be entirely comfortable with it. The more I learn, the less comfortable I am with it, and I don't know how it works for Lysanrin with the... siphoning... But you can tell me whatever you're comfortable telling me. It'll help me help you more than anything else."

Then he wove up a bit of a mask for himself as well, Aurin's face fading into the one that Yshvold had seen first. And then it extended out over Yshvold to make him seem taller, bigger, and not Lysanrin. Two men would attract less notice at this hour than a man and a boy, and he could adjust it when they crossed out of the Low-City and into nicer areas, as well.

"I'll let you eat this aether when I'm done with it," he promised, and then led the way out of the alley.

"Do all Lysanrin bitch this much," he asked, damping his voice with his masquerade trick so only Yshvold could hear it, "or is this just the Yshvold special?"

But as much as Yshvold complained, he followed. And as much as Aurin complained, he led. They were quiet for most of the trip. His illusions changed when they passed through shadows, altering to fit their environs so nobody would question them. When they got to the alley, they disappeared entirely and if anyone was watching, they wouldn't even see or hear the door open, close, and shut.

The red-roofed cottage was simple, though he had made some improvements. There was running water now, so the kitchen was much improved, though he still rarely cooked. There were proper facilities, including a bath big enough for three—never knew when some of the ladies from the Velvet Cabaret were going to be especially dirty and need a good cleaning—and it was surely big enough for one scrawny Lysanrin kid.

There was also a bed. It wasn't huge, but it was certainly better than a garbage pile. He pulled out towels and some old clothes that were clean and Yshvold could sleep in, and then he stripped the bed to put fresh linens on it. Otherwise, the kid would probably complain that it stunk of human or some other clever remark.

"Eat what you want in the kitchen," he said. "Try not to make messes. I don't have a maid. You should take a bath first, though. I'll cut some things down and re-hem them so they'll fit you properly. Get you some new clothes later if you stick around." He had picked up a few bachelor skills over the years, as well as helping when the costumers next door got overwhelmed. He found the spare key and flicked it in a glittering arc toward the horned wonder. "I'm going to take a walk. Back in about an hour with hot food. The bathroom door locks so you don't have to worry about perverts. Ah... any preferences for food? Oh, and are you going to eat this?"

He could see the aether he was working thanks to his semblance trick, but he didn't see it the way Lysanrin apparently saw it.

Aurin watched all this through one trick, which gave him a better idea of what Yshvold was doing, though not exactly. He wasn't great with the trick, and besides, he had to understand what he was sensing, not just sense it.

"Huh."

What he saw in the aftermath with his own eyes was also interesting.

"Grab a snack from the kitchen before you drown yourself. Best whet your appetite so you don't gorge and vomit when I bring dinner."

The only real décor on the walls were his weapons where they were mounted. Some Yshvold might recognize from their battles below. Others were on his person at the moment.

"Don't drown, all right? I don't want to have to break down the door to squeeze water out of your lungs so you can call me a pervert again." He waved him toward the kitchen, which wasn't separated from the main room as the bathroom was. "Back in an hour."

And just like that, he was outside, the key turning in the lock. The spare was still there in Yshvold's hand, but for the moment, he was the king of Aurin's little kingdom.

"The fuck am I thinking?" he muttered to himself as he trudged off to consider the ramifications of taking the scamp in, and to score enough food to sate him. Aurin knew better than to think small people couldn't consume huge amounts of food. When he was that small, he could eat more than he could eat now. It just all went to growth and that crazy youthful energy.

It felt strange to knock on his own door, but he did for the kid's comfort. He tried to knock gently and then wondered what the hell was wrong with him, muttering to himself as he unlocked the door, and immediately locked it behind him. The kid was on the bed, looking even scrawnier for the overlarge clothes, but at least they, and he, were clean.

"Hey."

Two arms full of packages was certainly more than he had promised to bring, but he started setting things out and he was obviously going to put up some provisions for the—presumably—growing youth. The seasons were changing and availability was shifting, but he seemed to have a fair variety of fruits and vegetables, which went into a basket, and a little icebox for the more delicate things. Then, the hot foods: meat pies, stew, fresh bread rolls that were supposed to have butter baked into them. There was even a slice of chocolate cake because kids liked chocolate, or so he assumed.

He laid out the hot foods on the table, kicking the chair gently out for Yshvold to sit, but if the kid didn't want to approach while he was moving around, he would just pick up the pace and put things in their place, bringing out a clean fork, spoon, and knife, and oh—they had packed paper napkins. That was easy; they could just be tossed into the hearth afterward. No mess.

Most of it was for Yshvold; he snatched up one of the meat pies and grabbed himself a wooden spoon and leaned up against the wall to sup himself. Yshvold could have the table to himself. It wasn't like they were a happy family sitting down to a meal to talk about how their day had gone or anything like that. He noted the veins in his arms were no longer glowing, but didn't know if that meant the aether had been digested or used. He didn't ask; he could figure it out later.

"Eat." It was an invitation, but Aurin wasn't always good at being gracious.

"Yeah, you also called me a pervert, though," he pointed out, still leaning against the wall with his meat pie. He jerked his chin toward the door. "I used to manage the Velvet Cabaret around the corner. That's a word we take seriously. And I lived on the streets on again off again when I was your age, so I know they exist. Whatever. I'll hang out until I'm done eating, see if you have any questions or concerns, and then I'll go crash somewhere else. Come back tomorrow and we can train if that's what you want, talk about setting up an arrangement that benefits us both where you have a beat to cover and you get paid enough to keep yourself out of squalor."

He had never had horns and the world's hatred to deal with, so he wasn't trying to compare who had it worse or anything, but he knew about empty bellies, cold nights, and old perverts. His parents hadn't been much in the way of parenting, preferring the sink or swim philosophy when it came to him. There were times he still wondered why they hadn't just tossed him squalling into the river when he was just a mouth to feed that shat his diapers, but here he was—mystery of mysteries.

"I wouldn't trust a hand out then nor a hand out now, so just consider it an investment in the future. I'm not saying we can't be friends in the future, but we don't have to be to work together, you understand. So I'm just going to afford you the luxury of having a choice in the matter. Sound good to you?"