Legend of Ransera

"Fascinating..." Khyan grinned. He supposed it made sense that he should remain so enraptured. He never tired of staring at the stars in the sky, why should he tire of those he'd found here in the Umbrium? They were much rarer and more precious here. Exceptional.

"I didn't realise that... I hope you won't be offended if I confess that I thought you'd conjured your own constellations. At least after I knew what you were and what you were capable of doing. I certainly wouldn't blame you, if you'd applied them by design." As he spoke, he traced little lines with the tip of his index finger along the celestial body before him. He was drawing his own patterns, though those native to the Fæ before him were too restless to have true constellations of their own. They were always on the move, as if they were afraid to settle in place. His idle mind wondered whether their canvas was so volatile. He'd warned, within minutes of meeting Khyan, that his attentions were fleeting. Perhaps Khyan should be satisfied that they'd been cast his way this long and leave it at that. But he wasn't.

"Yes..." He might have sounded a bit crestfallen, although Eros had done nothing to elicit that reaction. He was just fighting battles in his own head. For now, at least, his sorrows came as single spies.

"A dancer!" That lit him right back up. He didn't even need to subsequent qualifier. Dancing was something one did for fun, and something one did at court. To make a career of it did not perforce betoken anything necessarily vulgar amongst the upper echelons of Solunarian society.

"Oh, of course you are, Starlight. Yours was a form built to be gazed upon!" Khyan had certainly become a quite the stargazer of late. "I'm certain you're enchanting to watch. I hope I can see you perform, some day..." He felt like he was getting overeager again. Speaking too many thoughts that ought to have remained just that. Had he always been so bad at this game, or had he merely brooked lesser opponents until now? Or maybe it was that his current situation amplified his emotions and made everything more extreme. That wasn't fun to dwell upon, though, and so he didn't.

"Pliant..." Khyan repeated, his voice a whisper. He didn't wish to move his lips overmuch, whilst Eros attentions were upon them. "Submissive..." He added, calling back to the designation Eros had applied earlier in their conversation. "Are these the things you fancy about me?" It was a vulnerable question and a loaded one for Khyan. He hadn't always relished of those aspects of himself. Some partners brought them out more than others, and Eros' Aura had responded to those traits in such a way that had caused the slave to dig his heels into that role. Was it his nature, though? He knew the world saw his features and placed him into certain categories, but was he inherently submissive or had he changed to suit the expectations of others? In the end, he supposed, if he'd been so malleable then he was indeed submissive.

"Oh..." Khyan blushed, instantly feeling he'd overstepped. He tensed, shifting slightly in Eros' lap so he was sitting upright and no longer lounging so lazily. "Of course, no. I didn't mean to imply you should-... Well, not right away, or... You know." Gulp. "At all. It's... It's really whatever you want, Dominus. I'm... Well, you know." Would he, though? Khyan barely knew himself what he was on about at this point. He was just embarrassed at having made such a brazen proposal and scrambling to backpedal.

"I think it's better that you didn't need to do that." Khyan offered, with an appreciative sigh to punctuate his thought.

"Mm." He grinned at the notion of attending one of Eros' performances. It would be thrilling to watch the Fæ about his work but, perhaps more so, it would also be gripping to watch others enraptured by Eros. It would have been so enticing to observe, though only up to a certain point. Khyan certainly didn't want others to see their desires realised, he only wanted to see them pine for what he had already claimed for his own. That was the sort of wealth to which he'd grown accustomed, and the sort it would be most difficult to condition him away from wanting.

"Yes, please do let me know..." He trailed off.

He could see that his question about Eros' perception of him set the Fæ's head to spinning. He didn't want to cheat and use his Semblance to get a better read- even if it would have had the potential to assuage his fears. It might also have exacerbated them. Truth was funny that way, and so despite of his talent for unearthing it, he often preferred to dwell in the dark of ignorance that mundane, magickless folk enjoyed.

At least Eros hadn't ceased to gently caress him. It was a lifeline and a safety net to ground him as he trod toward precarious ground for both of them. He risked putting labels to things that had been ambiguous. Mystique was a big part of this, he suspected, for both of them. Khyan may have come off guileless, after a fashion, but some of that was calculating, too. He could manipulate himself to manipulate someone else. Convince himself something was true to be more convincing in telling another. Part of him knew he'd been doing that with Eros, though he couldn't have named an instance if pressed. These weren't conscious things, they were merely his means of leading from the back. This very conversation- this very question was a feint of his.

And then a kiss punctuated Eros' answer. That would be enough, for now.

"It isn't..." He smiled weakly, "...important, Dominus." His eyes followed Eros' hand to the glass, and he watched him drink.

"I'm probably just too sober." His eyes trailed from the Fæ's cup over to the bar. He'd have loved a drink, but he hadn't any money. He probably could have asked it of Cetus, but his all too indulgent master was generous enough without giving his slave a drinking allowance. Khyan was too proud to ask that of him, and too proud to ask it of Eros as well. No matter. His novel lover would be intoxicating enough- even if the side effects of this particular spirit trended toward self-doubt every now and again.

"I wonder..." He looked back up to Eros with a smile, "If I ever regain my freedom, I probably won't ever be a patrician again. Perhaps I might make a go of being a dancer, as well. Unlike you, of course, I'd very much need the profit, but..." He shrugged, "Perhaps I flatter myself that I have a modicum of your talent just because I pick up court dances quickly and I'm not an absolute troll to look upon."

Khyan seemed to be feeling his oats again, now there there was a bit of space since the awkward ranting that had been filled with constant physical affection and a bit of verbal encouragement.

"Well, I shall have to check my very busy dance card, but somehow I suspect I might be able to find a moment to slip away and see you..." Khyan offered, with a wry grin. "You can just let me know the times later." He smirked to himself, as he slipped in that tacit presumption that he would be invited back to Eros' home where he could access his itinerary.

Now Khyan's doe eyes were being put on for show. The last few times he'd employed that technique, it had been in earnest, but at the offer of free booze he knitted his brow and demurred- His body language shifting toward the apologetic.

"Oh, I... Well, I didn't mean you should buy my drinks, Dominus, I was only trying to excuse the weird tenour of my focus this evening." He didn't even pause a full beat before continuing: "But if it wouldn't be any bother, I wouldn't mind a drink and, well... Obviously I haven't any coin, these days." He wrinkled his nose, again apologetic, and slid off his lap.

"Oh, no- I was talking about something to do if I were to regain my freedom... Though I suppose it wouldn't hurt me to practise in the meanwhile. Perhaps you might be persuaded to be my pædagogus? Hold that thought..." Khyan sauntered off to the barkeep.

He ordered a round of whatever Eros had been having before, but also a pitcher of wine to chase it. Wine would last longer and he wasn't eager to quit his lover's lap very often during their time together. With the cups of hard liquor in his left hand, he grabbed the handle of the pitcher with his right. They could recycle the cups, he figured, for the wine once the liquor was down. Or even drink straight from the pitcher, for all Khyan cared, he was just glad to have spirits in hand.

"Is this an audition to see how I'd serve you outside the bedroom?" He couldn't help himself, though he regretted the reiteration of his earlier, overbold suggestion. He placed the drinks down and reassumed his position on Eros.

Khyan was very conscious that Eros might be watching him on his trek over to the bar, and his deportment displayed that. His saunter was a bit more sultry, the tableaus he made when leaning over the bar to order, and then waiting for the barkeep to pour, were all very deliberate. Stylised, like a bit of theatre, and ever aware of the way the fabric of his tunic fell and where. He may not have been as tall as Eros, but he was slender and lithe with long legs that dimpled at the thigh, when he beveled them just so. His return trip was no less purposeful, though his dark eyes didn't dance up to Eros' until he'd drawn up to him.

Back to the present moment, Khyan grinned at Eros' reply as he settled back against him.

"I'm not sure I'd be tall enough in an Elven household, but I might make for a good footman. I've got a steady hand and as far as I could ever tell the bulk of their job is standing around looking dashing." It was indeed true that many households took pride in the beauty of their staff. This was, after all, Solunarium, so staff was a statement. The servi who remained in the scullery might be absolute Orks to look upon, but those who served in the dining room tended to be more, well... appetising.

Khyan leaned over to the table to pick up the other cup, sniffing at the contents. He'd just told the barman two of whatever Eros was drinking, but hadn't bothered to inquire what that might be. The aroma was familiar. He'd been an adolescent in school not so long ago, after all, so his forays into alcohol were extensive and diverse. He wouldn't have described the bouquet as appealing, per se, but it certainly smelled clean. Eager to catch up to Eros a bit, he took the drink as a wince-inducing shot.

"Blegh." He let out involuntarily, as he stuck his tongue out and his fangs protruded unbidden. He shook it off, retracted his serpentine teeth and leaned forward to replace the contents of the cup with wine, which he immediately sipped to chase the caustic taste from his mouth.

"Corpus Aværys! That's one of those concoctions that makes the veins in your neck sting, isn't it? What are you drinking, mate, Scorpion's Kiss?"

Khyan pursed his lips. He'd never been under the impression that he was particularly short, but he knew he wasn't exactly a Tertian colossus. Still and all, the comment about his elegance was nice to hear. Besides, he'd gleaned that it was one of those dynamics Eros appreciated. When he'd glimpsed at his Aura, he'd noted that might be part and parcel to the power differential in which he took such relish. Khyan rather enjoyed it himself. It was comforting to be enveloped, in a basic, primal way. And he felt properly nestled, once he'd poured his wine and was leaning back against Eros and his provisional throne.

"I can appreciate that." Khyan grinned, swirling his wine. "I went through a phase when I was a bit younger where I would drink anything I could get my hands on. The party tended to end quite early, when I drank this sort of thing." He cracked a cheeky grin, "This... oh so elegant form of mine is terribly susceptible to hard liquor. I don't shirk a blackout night, mind you, but passing out before sundown simply won't do." He tilted his head,

"Sitting and drinking a ton of it, as you say, is part of the fun for me. I don't think I'd be able to keep up with you if I drank those all evening." He winked, "But it's a splendid way for me to play catch-up to your evening prior to my arrival, hm?" With that, he sighed contentedly and let his head cheek rest on the crook between Eros' neck and shoulder. The hand not holding his glass rose to sift through the waterfall of platinum that was his hair.

"So, what's the first dance you'll teach me, as I embark upon my career on the stage, pray tell?"