Continued from Glimmer
36th of Frost
120th Year of the Age of Steel
120th Year of the Age of Steel
Arvalyn let his back rest against the wall behind him, tipping his head back to join it, as he listened to Finn the Future Fantastic recount his tale. His eyes widened in unabashed surprise at the story's twist. Finn had mentioned House Zatrian before, but he hadn't really registered what such patronage really represented.
"Wow, Finn..." He knitted his brow, "I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but you seem really well-connected for a street performer." A smile curled the left side of his lips, "I'm honoured to know my ears are as sharp as the Shinsei's." Arvalyn had, after all, sought Finn out as a teacher based on his busking performance, and it seemed the House of Zatrian was impressed enough to bankroll his higher education.
His smile faded abruptly.
"Oh. You take me for a courtesan..." He lowered his eyes, "I don't like to think of myself as a courtesan." He used to think he might, based on the way Aurin had defined the term, but as he spent more time performing for large crowds, he was less and less interested in performing for participatory audiences of one. They could be so demanding and, more often than not, they were disrespectful- Oftentimes downright degrading. He knew that Aurin hadn't lied and that there were indeed courtesans of power, prestige and privilege who'd found patrons, much like Finn had, to endow them with lives of leisure. Arry hadn't had such good fortune with his clients. Not that there weren't those who plied him with promises, but their troths always seemed spent as soon as their lust was. He knew better than to get caught up in such dreams, now, when the odds were so against him.
"Maybe, with your help, I won't need to behave as one anymore."