[Flashback] Money Where Your Mouth Is, ii [Arvalyn]

[Aurin]

16 Searing 119
Night

"Yes, yes, it was very dramatic," he agreed, taking the opportunity to clean up a bit. "Could have been something out of a staged farce." One of these days, he was going to have to get the utilities connected to this storage shed that was now a home. But between them, they had eaten the stew so used dishes went into a wooden tub that he could easily carry back to the Cabaret kitchens before he went to sleep. There was still cake and ale and all, but he was a tidy sort and would have to be more so if they were going to be sharing space for a while. It would be a challenge, not because of any inherent fault of Arry's, but because Aurin had chosen not to deal with his life and so he was a bit twisted up inside.

If worse came to worst, he could let himself into Lunaria's office and take a nap on her sofa. Pascal would make biscuits upon his belly, but he could be alone if he needed it.

Having already pointed out clothes for Arry to try, he mostly left him to his ablutions with the water and towels. He needed a proper bath, but even this might make him feel a bit more human. Well, half-human.

"I'm surprised you wasted perfectly good corn on each other's junk when you were hungry all the time." It started out as a humorous observation, but once he said it, it just seemed even more sad. Starved for food, starved for connection, and starved for recreation, it seemed. Oh well, whomst among them could claim a happy youth? Certainly not Aurin. Perhaps he ought to share some harsh memories in a comical light.

[Arvælyn]

"Who said anything about the corn being 'perfectly good'?" Arry chuckled, "They just used the pieces what could break your teeth to bust each other's bollocks." He explained, over the very shoulder he was presently rinsing. He let silence hang between them, as he worked water over the important bits above the proverbial belt, before announcing:

"Trouser-drop warning in three..." He glanced over and checked to make sure Aurin wasn't peeking, before setting the pace of his countdown. Once he was satisfied, he continued: "...two...one... and they're off!" And with that he unfastened his breeches and commences to rinsing the lower quarters.

Making quick, short work of that, he toweled himself off and sorted through the proffered hand-me-downs. He pulled a poet's shirt over his head and tugged it round until he found the arm holes, then stepped into a pair of leather breeches that didn't cling to his hips the way they probably did for their proper owner.

"I'm dressed." He said, twirling back toward Aurin and doing a pose for him. "How do I look?" He asked, promenading toward the human and ending in a presentational bevel.

"Not my usual style, but I think I'm keen on it..." He decided, smoothing out the front of the shirt. "I look like a proper 'artiste', yeah?" He returned to the table to collect his ale, but he didn't reclaim the seat deciding, instead, to go poking around the little one-room cottage.

"Not much of a decorator, are you? I always imagined if I had my own place I'd fill it up with all manner of pretty things." And he wasn't even fishing for a compliment when he said so.

[Aurin]

"No good corn for no good bollocks," he agreed with a short bark of laughter. "Got it."

He banked the little fire. The tea would stay warm in the kettle over that, but he didn't want the fire truly burning more than it had to; not during the searing months of summer. He washed more often in the summer for the added benefit of keeping cool. He turned to look when Arvine bade him do so. He brought his hands up to slow clap, nodding so vociferously as to make the whole thing a tease. "Mm, oh yes, so artistic."

With a grin, he added, "You look like you're about to climb my balcony in the middle of the night to woo me and my girlish maidenhead." He clicked his tongue and gave him a thumbs up. "You'll knock 'em dead like that. Can you dance in it if Marinia wants a command performance? Is it comfortable? Can you move?" They all seemed valid questions, though he didn't know why anyone would want to wear leather trousers in the summer. But some people had fetishes.

"Yeah..." Looking around, he considered and actually gave more than a glib answer. "I think my mind still hasn't settled on the fact that I live here and I'm not likely to move. Used to be I just needed a place that was mine, but I didn't want to accumulate things because I thought I would have to drop and run. There are some blades on the walls and locks on the door so if someone comes for me, I'd have time to arm myself. Part of me says I should start nesting or whatever. The other part says that as soon as I do that, I'll need to flee."

[Arvælyn]

"You should really keep you fantasies about me to yourself, Aurin. You're much too handsome to come off so desperate!" The first part was in jest, but the second bit was indeed in earnest. Aurin's comeliness had not bee lost on Arvine, even if he wasn't as quick to broach it. He didn't have a great track record with the objects of his affection- One, in fact, had been amongst the aforementioned hooligans Demitrov set to batter him into submission rather than flee the city with Aurin, those years ago. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin things with Aurin who was still very much Arry's saviour, in the former thief's eyes.

"Hm, let's find out..." Arry placed his mug down and lifted his arms over his head, and rolled his hips in a move he'd learned from Myrna back in Antiris. He could feel the leather begin to sag, and he had to tug the waist back up within moments.

"Oi! You stretched 'em out too much, I think." It was very clear that they were just too big for him. They'd been worn, but the leather didn't seem particularly warped, by any means. "Not sure they'd be any good for me to dance in, unless it's a striptease." He wrinkled his nose and grabbed the ale back up, bringing it over to the bed, where he plopped down into a perch.

"Are you feeling all right about me staying here a spell? I have every intention of striking out on my own as soon as I can, or finding a mate who doesn't mind bunking with me. But just... let me know if it's too much. Even if I have to sleep in an alley for the night, so you can pull, it won't be the first time, yeah? Don't sacrifice your interests to be polite to me." He cracked a smile,

"It's too late in my life to start getting used to people being polite to me. That would be unsettling!" He feigned an anxious shudder, and punctuated it with a gulp of ale.

[Aurin]

"Well, nobody at the Cabaret is going to be shocked if you accidentally fall out of your costume. Most of them fall out of their costumes on purpose. It can be quite clever, really. It might also be quite confusing for you. For instance, if you take a shine to another dancer and whip out your corn kernels as a sort of advertisement, they'll assume you're just practicing. Oh, and if you do start sleeping with a fellow performer, try to make sure there are no pregnancies and leave any of that drama behind at the door. Unless you think putting it on stage will make people laugh..."

Everything mostly settled, he refilled his mug with ale and then set about unrolling the pallet he had brought to sleep on. He wasn't going to sleep, but best prepared. The pallet was made out of unbleached canvas and stuffed with clean rags. Much better than the rug on his stone floor.

"I said I was glad you're here," he replied. He didn't quite snap, but he did prefer when people believed him, especially if he was actually telling the truth. Softening it anyway, he shrugged. "I mean, I'll take the piss for you being two years late. We'll figure it out. I work odd hours anyway, so I won't always be up in your business."

He took a sip of his ale and then laid back on the pallet, shoulders down, but legs swinging over to the side so his spine could twist and stretch. There was a snap, crackle, and pop up his spine.

"Don't ever get old, Arry. Everything buggers off and does its own thing. Very rude." He breathed into the stretch and then lifted his knees before slowly dropping them to the other side. He had to be able to move. He was killing for two now.

[Arvælyn]

"Oh gods, I may be the first eighteen-year-old boy to ever say this, but sex is the least of my priorities right now..." The notion that concerned Arvine first and foremost was getting settled in a new career- One in which he had no practical experience and would need to learn from soup to nuts, and quickly.

"You did say that, didn't you?" He might have been blushing, but between his complexion and the remaining dirt that had survived his cursory rinse, it wasn't altogether clear. "Well, I haven't heard too many people say that kinda thing, so my instincts leave me a bit skittish about imposing upon the generosity of the few people I actually like."

Even if Aurin was blithe about their situation, Arry felt obliged to do his best to become independent in haste. He was already indebted to this human, and that debt would only deepen with each passing day and each inconvenience Arvine caused him. Case in point...

"Oh no, Aurin, please, you can't sleep on that. This is your bed." Arry got up straight way, "I was just sitting down here, because it's more comfortable than the chairs. I can sleep on that... Or on the floor." He made a face at the mattress he'd just quit, "Honestly, I'm used to cold, uneven floors. Soft beds like that hurt my back..." He put his hand to his side and stretched his spine to the side with a crack. "See? I'm already proper sore."

He returned to the one chair at the little table where he'd dined earlier, relinquishing the bed entirely. While he was back there, he figured his stomach might have made room for at least a few more bites of cake.

[Aurin]

Aurin wasn't going to comment on the kid's sex life or lack thereof. He was young and it was good he wanted to focus on what would bring him success or, at least, stability, but whereas Aurin had settled on a long life alone as his version of success, he hoped for better for Arry. If he found the stardom he sought and a life he loved, Aurin could take some small pleasure in that, vicarious or at least proud. And if Arry needed the monster under the bed to protect him, well, Aurin has been raised to be a monster.

"I'm just stretching," he scoffed. "Learned it from some of the dancers. Some of them, the ones that do things a body shouldn't be able to do... It wears them out, I think, if they don't take care of themselves. They get old well before their time. Creaking knees, aching backs. I'm just trying to head that off at the pass... Don't want to get old before my time." He laughed a little, then intensified the twist in his spine until his lungs were snug in his chest and laughing needed to wait.

"I'm not going to argue about it. I don't want to fight. I'm sure we'll find plenty of stupid shit to snipe at each other about... We can take turns with the comfortable bedding if that suits you. Claim the bed for a nap while I'm working, of course. I'm just not used to being a host so I'd like to be a good one. It's making me wish I hadn't put off renovations all this time... I'm just mostly here to sleep. But you're here at my invitation, so... make yourself at home.

"Ow," he groaned, his back arching off the floor, hands pushing up under so he could wedge his elbows against the floor and intensify the stretch. "Fuck, that's good. Dancers are masochists." He laughed again, but it was helping—the stretching and the humor—to release the tension of worrying that he had held onto since Princess Arvalyn had fainted right into his arms, leaving him with only his imagination to fret as to whether his long-standing invitation to Kalzasi had killed the prickly kid.

[Arvælyn]

At Aurin's explanation of his current activities, Arvine cocked his head to one side, suddenly interested. If this was a skill that would help him acquire and excel in his prospective career, his attention was rapt.

"Dancers do this?" The half-Hytori slid from his chair onto the floor, facing Aurin. He bit his lip squinting at Aurin and began to mimic the motions his host was executing. The road had left him more stiff than usual, but that was still surpassingly limber compared to most humans. Perhaps he'd have a leg up, as it were.

"I want my body to do things it shouldn't be able to do." He announced, as the hand on his leg creaked the leather of the pants.

"I don't want to argue either," Arvine replied, exasperated, "But that's what I'm saying! If you want to make me feel at home you'll relegate me to the floor, feed me worse and strike me when I get out of line." That was what Demitrov would have done, as would the older boys who served as his lieutenants. "I don't need creature comforts. They feel weird. If I'm going to be putting on airs, I'll save it for the stage." His eyes darted over to check in on Aurin's current pose, realising with a wince that he had the arms backwards.

"Shite," He muttered as he quickly corrected the error. He hadn't heard any more cracks between his bones, since he'd made his own gesture prior to aping those Aurin was doing. They sounded so satisfying...

"What's a massowkissed?" Arry wrinkled his nose and furrowed his brow. "I don't know that word."

[Aurin]

"All right," he said, instantly exasperated too. "You can sleep on the floor. You can help keep the place clean and pull your weight here so you don't have to feel like a coddled princess or whatever. Just... I don't want to be like Demitrov. Does that make sense? I'm not running off to join the priesthood, but..."

He made a noise. It might have been a snort or a sigh or some strange exhalation required by his twisting and turning, body looking for release from tensions that were barely noticeable until they were suddenly quite noticeable.

"Masochists... if you're talking about them at the Cabaret, they're people who enjoy pain. Spankings, whippings, beatings... even light torture, I guess. Outside of that, masochists are just people who seem to find pleasure or comfort in suffering or beating themselves up." One could argue that there was a masochistic streak running through Aurin's knot of personal dysfunction, but like any good dysfunctional person, he could not see it.

Or would not. Denial was a powerful force in the world.

Hazel eyes peered over at Arry. On the one hand, he thought it was probably good he was quick to try anything that might help him succeed in his mission to be famous. On another hand, he was pushing away any notion that Arry might actually look up to him. He just laughed.

"You're so fucking graceful. I don't know why you're asking me what to do... I feel like I should tip you for the pleasure of watching you work. What do you call this one? Awkward chicken?"

[Arvælyn]

"I will do!" Arry exclaimed, giddily, "I'll keep it well tidy in here, I will. Spic and span." He inverted the present pose, which meant that last bit was cast over a shoulder he was pulling in the opposing direction.

"Believe me when I say I don't want you to be like Demitrov, either." Not that he loathed his former employer/abuser/dysfunctional father figure, but it was a love-hate relationship wherein most of the love derived from either necessity, projection or default. Since losing his real dysfunctional father, Demitrov had provided for him. Not well, and not without grumbles and demands for retribution, but he might have starved without the man and that was worth something to the half-elf.

"But I don't want you to be something you're not in the other direction, either, even if you think it's what I want." He said, gesturing to the bed with a nod, as an example. "You've given me plenty. Don't overdo it, or I'll-... Well, you've seen how I get when a big meal is put in front of me." The sparse resources and opportunities to which he'd grown accustomed made him tend toward gluttony when the opportunity arose for excess.

"Mas-o-chists." He repeated the word, over-pronouncing each syllable. "I don't think I'm one of those. Not on purpose, anyway..." He realised he'd lingered too long in the last pose, and Aurin had moved on. Scrambling to catch up, and cast a wide-eyed gaze Aurin's way.

"These poses have names? Oi, you should've been telling me that as we were going! I want to show up at the cabaret and know all the terms, so they'll think I was a big star in Antiris and hire me on the spot!"