[Closed] Jus' a lil' Song and Dance

Xavier sets up for a little performance in Crosstown Court.

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A large forest in Central Anaxas, the once-thriving mostly human town of Dorhaven is recovering from a bombing in 2719 at its edge.

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Xavier Zhirune
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: Not all that glitters be ging. Some 'f it's me.
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Sat Feb 16, 2019 2:28 pm

crosstown court, uptown
in the morning of Achtus 40th, 2718

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Contrary to the brilliance of their looks, the pale creature abhorred the daylight, and even though it was winter and the temperatures were cold (if you were an Anaxi, anyway), the sun was no less bright. Brighter. Sharper. It stung. It dug under skin that was born without pigmentation, clawing at nerves and leaving pink burns in its place if Xavier wasn't careful to cover themselves appropriately. Well, mostly appropriately. It wasn't as if the albino wick had any care for social convention when it came to dressing themselves, let alone any firm grasp on propriety other than making sure their precious skin was mostly safe during the day.

Thank Hurte herself—it was partly cloudy this morning: a wintery, etherial mist clinging to the low-lying areas near the Avora, curling upward from sewer drains, shrouding even the Soot District in its cool embrace. It was cold (for Anaxas), but there was a hint of more sun later in the afternoon, and that just would not do. It was either roll out of bed and earn some ging or stay in bed all clocking day. Not wanting to sit still, restless after a night of performing at the Toy Lantern just the evening before, Xavier promised themselves a long soak later. And a drink or two.

Hardly dressed for the chill in comparison to the kingdom's natives they walked among, the albino wick was used to the atmosphere high above and born into colder climes. The willowy musician wore a coat, long but and of a comfortable weight, dyed a deep purple and embroidered with silvery flowers by a very skilled hand—oh, gods, skilled indeed; putting it on always brought comfortable memories of Brunnhold and sometimes a bit of a blush—over two layers of loose, equally long linen shirts in dull, pale tones. Far too many shiny necklaces hung low with baubles, feathers, fake jewels, beads, would have caught the sunlight and sparkled like the rings on their fingers and the bangles at their wrists, entwined with a thin, hand-knit scarf in autumnal golden tones. Bone white hair worn down and wild peeked out from beneath their fashionable, charcoal grey wool bowler hat and, as always, their translucent skin stood out in stark contrast to the dark leather boots that crunched through crusty, icy puddles and sloshed through dingy alleys which reached above the albino's knees that allowed just a glimpse of trousers that while a comfortable weight may as well have been hose with their snugness. To top off the outfit, tucked just so into their hat that protected shaded their beautiful face from the peek of the cruel dayball through the clouds, slipped perfectly into the purple velvet ribbon was a long, bold whice feather in a stunning turquoise green.

The pale wick wove through the streets, sticking to the to the shady sides of walkways, forced into dodging the brightest of open areas and stepping through alleys to stay out of direct sunlight. They made their way out of the Dives toward Crosstown Court, with their oud slung over their shoulder as dark as the night they preferred to prowl through, mother of pearl celestial bodies etched into its surface dull without the sun, Xavier humming and striding through the shadows between the main street as if they clocking well owned the place.

Not that they wanted this conflicted spitchhole, Circle save them all, no. But, still. They could act like it, right?

Squinting, vision blurrier in the brightness of the light that crept through the thin early clouds, the small thoroughfare the tall Gioran strode through opened up into a huge, circular courtyard. Shops and cafes lined the outer perimeter with neat little sidewalks and well-kept, sculpted trees. A fountain rose from the center of the wide open space, King Romelius II on blackback read the plaque along with an exhaustive list of his probably half-ersed accomplishments.

While Xav had heard that Off the Path played here, they weren't interested in competing. They were interested in doing better. Being better. Well, they already assumed they were better—or could be, if they'd only had a clocking band.

Violet gaze studied the impressive sunk-in theater for oratory moments, probably boring affairs led by stuffy ignorant politicians with their ramscott golly fields shoved up their ramscott golly erses. Today, in the hint of rain and the cold weather, it was empty. A couple of jugglers tossed around brightly colored batons in one of the grassy areas, smiling and laughing and surrounded by a few lookers-on. There were a few other performers—someone painting portraits under a handmade portable tent for a couple of forts a face; a mime, maybe; some scruffy looking kids with homemade instruments barely playing loud enough to be heard.

Some petite well-dressed ladies were walking their fancy little dogs through the wet grass, giggling. Under an overhang, a bunch of whithered-erse gollies cursed at each other politely while playing Kingdoms on park benches like proper old folks should.

As if they knew anything about the real kingdoms beyond their own. Bastards.

Finding a nice little spot near a lovely, leafless tree, Xavier huffed a few rebellious white strands from their pale face. Removing their hat to set it at their feet just out of reach in order to catch a few tips, the albino wick paused to run their dark-painted fingers through their hair, long and wild.

Glancing around the Court one more time, he moonlit creature slid their dark oud from against their spine and began to carefully assess the state of its tuning, uncaring whether or not they attracted an audience just yet.

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Elias Mercucianno
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Wed Feb 27, 2019 7:39 pm

40th Achtus, 2718
SOMEWHERE TOO BRIGHT | WAY TO BLOODY EARLY
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By the Gods it was bright.

Elias groaned against the morning sun, one arm over his eyes and a cigarette between his lips. He lay on the curved edge of the fountain that graced the courtyard in Uptown, uncaring that there were gentle scoffs of disapproval as his fellow galdori walked past in their morning errands or avoided him during their lovers strolls. One knee was bent, to rest his foot on the cold stone under him, the other swung lazily off the side, toes just brushing the ground beneath. He was dressed in exactly the same outfit from the evening before, beige pants, mauve brocade vest and dusky purple dress shirt. Perhaps however, his shirt was a little more crumpled and his pants not neatly pressed. His black dress shoes were slightly scuffed and his dark curls were a fabulous mess. His face sported stubble, as though clean shaven was a foreign concept to the man.

Had he even made it home last night? He wasn’t entirely sure. The Toy Lantern had been very full of chan and opium and alcohol. Somewhere between the last pipe and the morning, Eli had found himself in the park, snoozing curled in a ball on the park bench. Thank Hurte he’d managed to obtain his thick winter cloak on the way out, wrapped tightly around his person. Still, freezing, he’d only woken up because some old bag with her osta had been out for an early morning stroll and happenstanced upon him. Bleary eyed, and sporting the most gods-forsaken hangover, he’d made it as far as standing, before emptying his stomach in the bushes. Making his shaky way to the fountain, Elias had lay down, pulled out a cigarette and let the morning sun try and warm his cold and nauseous heart.

“Gods make the pain go away…” He muttered and groaned to no one in particular, wishing for the headache that wanted to rend his skull in twain to fuck the clock off. Reaching for the cigarette with two fingers, he exhaled the thick smoke, ears pricking up as the lilting notes of a string instrument began to dance on the air. Someone was going to make noises.

Brilliant.

Lifting his arm from his eyes, squinting painfully against the sunlight, the Bastian sat up and turned so both feet swung from the fountain glancing around to find the source of the noise with all intentions of making some snide comment before limping home.

“Oh.” He said with surprised delight as a familiar face caught his eye, or rather, a familiar ensemble caught it. It was the stunning luminescent wick from the Lantern, all dressed in feathers and sparkly jewels and deliciously tight outfits that Elias would ten out of ten wear. Sticking the cigarette back between his lips, the galdor put both hands on the cold stone and jumped down, smoothing fingers through rougish black locks and trying to squint a little less in the winter sun. Striding across the courtyard, he slowed, hands in pockets to admire the stunning creature for a moment.

“I didn’t know that Giorans were quite so extravagant. You’d almost pass as a Bastian in that outfit.” He rumbled in a deep, hoarse baritone, still heavy with his prior nights activities.

Gods, what had he done last night? His stomach churned in protest and his head throbbed.

Taking his hands from his pockets, Eli drew the cigarette from his lips again, rubbing his face with the other hand and sighing.

“Why the fuck does it have to be so bright? Doesn’t Anaxas know its winter? Give us the clouds for Hurtes sake.”

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Xavier Zhirune
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: Not all that glitters be ging. Some 'f it's me.
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Wed Feb 27, 2019 10:22 pm

crosstown court, uptown
in the morning of Achtus 40th, 2718

The albino wick was just warming up, dark lacquered nails strumming half melodies and brief snippets of song on their oud, the deep, baritone sounds drifting through the Court from their desired spot among the mossy, gnarled roots of a tree. Watching the cloud of their breath as they sighed and letting their violet gaze meander over what they could see, squinting as more of the sun began to peek from the clouds instead of less (much to Xavier's immense displeasure), they smiled at a couple passing by with their children, lithe fingers plucking lighter, playful notes that made the youngest ginger giggle and gawk.

The tinkle of a few coins in their hat gained a wink, the galdori family lingering for a few extra moments before deciding they'd watched the pale musician long enough, just long enough for the willowy thing to break into actual song, not with their voice but with their lovely, rich-timbered instrument. A cheerful, morning tune began, only to be cut short by another interloper.

Of course Xav felt the field, frazzled but powerful and familiar from just in passing the night before, before they glanced up to see the admittedly handsome golly gentleman looking like he'd spent the night on a park bench instead of in his comfy bed and silk sheets that the willowy Gioran was sure he had somewhere in Uptown waiting for him to collapse into. Gods, did they enjoy a wealthy bed every once an a while, if only because they were usually surrounded with expensive stuff to pilfer, pocket, and sell.

Colorless eyelashes fluttered and the taller, moonkissed creature flashed Elias the most demure of smiles, speaking quietly above suddenly hushed but not stilled notes from their oud, "Mujo ma. I know I'm macha, but I ent got a desire t' be Bastian, jent."

They drew the ch-sound of the derogatory Tek slur for the other man's species out through their pink-stained lips for emphasis in almost a coy sort of purr, smokey kohl-shadowed eyes wandering over the disheveled creature before them. Suddenly their nose wrinkled and pretty face scrunched into a sour expression, the strong scent of alcohol and smoke clinging to the galdor like smog from the Soot District.

Had the dark-haired thing gone home at all?

Xavier knew this look he had going on, though they also knew they wore it better. They'd worn it more than once in their short, wild life. That 'out all night' glory.

This stranger seemed tarnished, though. They couldn't put a bejeweled finger on why someone with everything would be so ridiculous, but then again, it seemed to be in galdori genes.

This one was no different.

"Ehada, d'ye know many Giorans?" They watched the cigarette, watched Elias' fingers, watched the smoke in the frigid in the air, the cold making it seem thicker. The albino wick didn't like that the man was as handsome as he was hungover, didn't like that he was as obviously a pompous, rich jent as he was a somewhat curious creature that they seemed unable to be rid of.

Too fuckin' bad he was a godsbedamned galdor. Petty. Full of himself. But rich. Definitely rich to breeze through Crosstown Court without a care in all of Vita for how much he looked like shit.

"Yer s'posed t' sleep that spitch off. Inna bed, ye chen." Pale eyelashes fluttered again and finally the willowy musician graced the dark-haired man in front of them with their violet gaze, lingering over that cleft chin before meeting gold-rimmed eyes. For a moment, Xav fell quiet, studying the man before them as if weighing his worth, still playing a quiet, almost soothing melody between them as if somehow the carefully plucked notes held some kind of meaning.

Did it?

Maybe a little.

They felt the sun, too. Their skin stung already. Their vision blurred by the brightness.

"Ye look like y' need a pina manna breakfast. An' y' smell like y' need a bath." One booted toe nudged their grey felt bowler hat in Elias' direction with a smirk, making sure to jingle the coins inside. There was an edge to their low tone, but it was hard to tell whether the albino wick was flirting or chastising, taunting for some extra change or attempting to get an invitation to a meal, "Didja sleep out 'ere 'r did th' DeCassio scrape yer pretty face off th' floor 'f th' Lantern this mornin'? Ye didn't take that nice slice o' Mug home? What's yer name, kov?"

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Elias Mercucianno
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Thu Feb 28, 2019 12:47 am

40th Achtus, 2718
SOMEWHERE TOO BRIGHT | WAY TO BLOODY EARLY
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Elias chuckled at the racial slur, not unfamiliar with Tek given the number of pretty wicks he’d rolled into his black silken sheets, puffing on his cigarette slowly as he watched the Gioran look him over. It wasn’t half obvious that the lithe creature wasn’t entirely fond of the galdor‘s presence, having an air about him of one that held their own predjiduce against his race as much as the galdori held against his. Truthfully, the brunette knew some of the strange beliefs in Gior, humans were not people and galdori were an absolutely stand alone race. The moon kissed creature was an exceptional oddity, an impossible beauty. And he probably hated galdori.
​​
​​Still, it hadn’t stopped Elias before.
​​
​​ “Mmm well, Bastia probably wouldn’t cope with you anyway. They might be a bit less prudish than Anaxas, but that’s only because our best artists are on the…dandy side. What would we be known for if we kicked all of them out?” Ashing the smoking spliff, the young galdor raised a brow at the question, tilting his head with a curious smile.
​​
​​ “Eha-what? I don’t, no, but I have met a few Gioran salt traders in my younger days. I know my politics and my kingdom relations and you—“ He gestured at the wick with his cigarette, before taking another quick drag.
​​
​​ “You are not what I could call, the normal model Gioran. But then, who wants to be normal?” Finally, the delicious wick looked at him with gorgeous eyes a color he’d never seen before, and Elias smiled, a roughish foxy grin that promised wicked things if just given half the chance.
​​
​​ “True, true. I think I was trying to get to my bed, but somewhere between seeing your stunning performance last night and my house I got lost and well…here we are.” He finished the cigarette, flicking it into the dew damp grass with a practiced flair, and letting his green and gold eyes roam the musician slowly, admiring the music that trickled from skilled fingers. He might not play as well, if at all in the past six or so years, but he appreciated the sound. It was sweet, gentler than the woody trill of the harpsichord.
​​
​​At the mention of food, and his odour, Elias scoffed and turned his head to examine for himself, turning away with a sound of disgust and surprise.
​​
​​ “By Hurtes flaming Mane, you’re not wrong.” Glancing down at the hat, the hungover golly started patting at his vest and jacket pockets, searching for his coin purse, humming in agreement at the lovely creatures question.
​​
​​ “Mmm…I slept here. Right..erm..right on that bench there. It was…shit…really cold. The what?” He paused his patting at the mention of the pretty mugrobi that had undoubtedly gotten a free toke of the hookah last night, something darkening on the man’s face as his half smile disappeared. The mention of Mugrobi’s was too much, reminding him of the voices in the dark waters, rowing towards him as the airship fell from the sky in a glowing orange ball of flame…
​​
​​ “No. I didn’t take the Mug home.” The galdor said as he finally found his purse, fishing out something…what was that? A concord? He squinted at it, before flicking it into the hat, and tucking the purse away. Almost in the same movement, he withdrew another cigarette and put it between his lips. With a muttered spell and a snap of his fingers, Elias lit the end with a spark, ignoring the throb in his temple as the mona berated his formless casting. Drawing a deep drag on the fresh spliff, the young socialite forced away his moodiness with a smirk.
​​
​​ “Smile like that and you can call me whatever you like sweetcakes. But, for the sake of proper introductions, it’s Elias James Mercucianno. Elias is fine.” He held his free hand out to shake the Gioran’s in formal introduction, rising an eyebrow and looking over tight pants and sparking decorations.
​​
​​ “Since you mention it, perhaps you’d care to get out of this Gods-be-damned sun and join me at home for a hair of the banderwolf, and a fresh change of clothes, for me at least, Mister….?” The brunette left it hanging, waiting for a name he could use for the delightful wick, unashamedly ready to start where he’d left of the evening prior. The Gioran hadn’t played very nice last night, but perhaps in the daytime he would be a little warmer.
​​
​​ “I promise I don’t bite. Much.” Elias said with a sultry grin.

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Xavier Zhirune
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: Not all that glitters be ging. Some 'f it's me.
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Thu Feb 28, 2019 11:26 am

crosstown court, uptown
in the morning of Achtus 40th, 2718

Dandy. Gods, this man was a piece of work. A product of his own convoluted galdori culture, regardless of which Kingdom he was born into. Anaxas may have been full of racist erseholes with very high expectations when it came to sexual purity, and Bastia was perhaps the Kingdom's incestuous, more flamboyant cousin, sure. But clearly the dark-haired galdor lived in his own world made buoyant by too much alcohol and blind by far too much smoke. Xavier had their lower lip between their teeth, eyes narrowing as if they weren't sure whether they should keep playing any music at all or walk away. Their glamour bristled and yet there were some things the jent said—

Normal. Please.

"Ne, never." The albino wick laughed suddenly in obvious agreement, and yet in that moment they shifted their hips and let a bejeweled hand stray upward, tucking loose, bone-white hair behind their ear. It was not flirtatious. It was, instead, a signal that they were going to be distracting this hungover, rich creature and that his pockets were probably ripe for the picking. That little witch who stole all of their covers would know, of course, but the galdor in front of him? Probably not. Hands returned to strumming soft tunes and the willowy Gioran's tone of voice was coy,

"Are ye blamin' sleepin' in th' cold on me?"

Violet gaze followed the discarded cigarette as it smoked on the frosty grass for a moment before slowly journeying back over the galdor before him as he checked himself for, well, for ripeness. By Imaan's innocence, what a child this toffin was. It was almost endearing in its sadness.

There was another well-practiced flutter of pigmentless eyelashes as the disheveled man patted himself down for coins, hint taken, thank the Circle, though there was a discordant sharpness to the dark-haired golly's tone when he spoke of the handsome Mugrobi Xavier would have been more than happy to drag home with them had they ever bothered to waste coin on sex. They didn't. The pale musician struggled to keep themselves calm at the sight of a concord—a godsbedamned concord!—in the fingers of the hungover beast before them.

Clocking hell.

There must have been more where that came from, but it required enduring this bedraggled mess of too much money and too many distractions. At least he was kind of cute, bleary around the edges and half-untucked from his own clothes. Perhaps it was worth it to know where this one lived, whether his neighbors were just as stuffed with expensive things as the dark-haired man's coin purse. They'd be flying in no time so long as there were more ersehats like this one in Vienda.

Xav swallowed, smirking at the strange sensation of the mona's irritation, the sentient particles clearly having already judged the other man long before the Gioran did. With a tsssk noise, the bold sliver of moonlight stopped playing and slid their beautiful dark oud behind their back. In the same fluid motion, like some well-choreographed dance, the albino wick used the same foot that nudged their hat closer to toss it in the air, catching the coins in one hand and smoothly catching the hat to place it on their head with the other. It was a near-perfect display of their prowess, a skillful misdirection while they tucked the coins away somewhere their diminutive partner in crime could snatch them should they want to.

Smiling at the introduction, considering the name presented, the pale musician stepped just a little closer, holding out a lithe hand not to be shaken when Elias reached for it, but with lacquered fingers dangling to be taken and kissed in a much more effeminate motion, defying the galdor's assumptions,

"I don't go by mister, Eli. But I don't go by miss, neither. Jus' call me Xavier. Xav'll do." Fingers waggled while their other hand plucked the second cigarette from the galdor—gods, this wasn't the Soot District!—and stole a long, shameless drag from the thing, exhaling smoke through tinted lips and a bemused grin, full of enough bravado to caprice the stranger's weightier field with their glamour in a much more informal, invitational kind of greeting.

Returning the cigarette to the man's lips with a slow brush of teasing fingers over that cleft in his stubbled chin, one colorless eyebrow quirked as if they were interested in the offer, lingering in the hopes of keeping the man distracted,

"Ye gonna treat me t' breakfast an' a drink, balach? An' get outta yer clothes? Aghaleoh! I ent gonna say no t' that." Well, maybe they could say no, maybe they should have said no, but for the sake of scoping out the disheveled toffin's neighborhood, they'd just have to endure. They'd just have to be wary—this one seemed rather volatile and the willowy creature had no interest in any attempts at being taken advantage of without their consent, regardless of Anaxi assumptions about wicks, let alone about their purposeful ambiguity,

"I bite when I want, ye chen, but 't sounds like y' won't complain."

Xavier winked coyly, more than willing to wrap their taller, lither self around Elias' arm with a coy tilt of their head as if making a show of ignoring the lingering scents of the man's evening wasted on gods only knew what. They buried the heated tingle of self-loathing that clawed down their spine at this sort of performance they could put on when necessary—their first big score in Vienda, by the looks of things!—reminding themselves that Mister Mercucianno was already wasting whatever their fortune must have been and that their albino selves would definitely make a better use of whatever the galdor wouldn't miss.

That much was obvious.

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Nikolina Fabricio
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: The obligatory street kid and orphan of Thorns.
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Thu Feb 28, 2019 5:12 pm

Crosstown Court, Uptown
40th of Achtus, 2718 Morning


Lee stood in an alley, nibbling on a small sandwich as she watched Xav as the wick got ready to start playing in the court. Lee had been surprised when Xav had told her she could stay with them after the night that Lee tried to pick their pockets, but the two of them had fallen into an understanding over the few days they had spent together. The moon person (as Lee still called Xav when she was in a silly mood, which was quite often) would be the "public" face of their little grift, while Lee would stay in the shadows until Xav found a mark. Then Lee would swoop in and relieve the mark of a few coins.

The pair worked well together and, between the money they made at Crosstown Court and the money Xav got for performing at the various bars in town, Lee was eating better than she had in a while. This morning, the smoky smell of bacon had made Lee's mouth water as they were leaving the inn. When Xav had insisted that they get a sandwich to go, Lee's eyes practically fell out of her head. She hadn't had a bacon and cheese sandwich in ages. The idea of dropping a tally on one meal boggled Lee. But Xav wanted Lee to enjoy the little things in life like they did. It wasn't like they didn't have the money.

Lee deeply enjoyed her burgeoning friendship with Xav. She couldn't help it. In many ways, they were kindred spirits. Xav was alive in a way that Lee hadn't seen in a long time. It resonated with her and made her feel more alive. She was more of a silly goofball around the wick than she had been since her da had died. She danced and made funny voices and acted her melodramatic little heart out, always looking to tease one more grin or laugh out of Xav. But she also knew when it was a good time to be serious, picking up on her friend's cues and body language easily.

She knew her time with Xav was limited, since she assumed the wick was going to stay in Vienda over the winter. The wick was a good performer, so affording the room at the inn regularly wasn't a huge stretch. Why leave a city when you can live comfortably? Sure, Xav didn't always make it "home", but Lee always knew that Xav was safe. The wick was whip smart and Lee had no doubt that they would get out of any mess they landed in. Xav was a survivor, just like Lee was. She knew, deep down, that she'd miss the fellow wick when she had to leave town. But she also knew the risks of staying in town and she couldn’t risk being found out and landing in a factory. Xav may have many, many talents, but she knew that they wouldn't be able to get her out of a factory if she got caught.

The cheerful girl hummed to herself as she watched people wander through the courtyard. She smiled as she saw a couple people drop coins into Xav's hat, bouncing on the balls of her feet. A dark eyebrow arched as she watched someone who was clearly hung over get up from the fountain and nearly stumble their way over to Xav. Xav's body language changed ever-so-slightly, though Lee doubted the man was sober enough to notice the fact that Xav thought he wasn't much better than dirt on the bottom of their shoes. But, ever the professional, Xav covered their feelings quickly.

Lee watched the man toss a coin into Xav's hat, then grinned as Xav tucked a lock of hair behind their ear. "Yes!" she whispered, pumping her fist before stuffing the last bite of sandwich in her mouth and watching where the drunkard stuffed his coin purse. Hmm. Shouldn't be too hard, she thought to herself.

She watched Xav do the little hat trick that Lee so loved and grinned. Oh, ye of little faith! Like I need to use robbing you as a distraction, she thought with a little giggle to herself. Of course, she would use that distraction, simply because she didn't want Xav's cover blown.

She swallowed the last bit of her sandwich and exited the alleyway, making sure to look as purposeful as possible. Xav had somehow wrangled her up a nearly new pair of pants and a shirt – the best set of clothing she had since her da died – so she could pass for a golly's servant, if the golly wasn't anyone important. She put on her best act, pretending to be nothing but another servant on a rushed errand for their master.

Lee, using a carefully planned and practiced hurried walk, caught up to Xav and the mark by the time they reached the next cross street. Her nose wrinkled as she caught a whiff of the mark. Sweet Alioe! Did the man sleep in stale alcohol? Here's hoping that Xav is taking him home for a bath! she thought as she slipped her hand into the pocket with mark's coin purse in it. She then slid her hand into the pocket that she knew Xav had put their coins in, bumping the wick ever-so-lightly before turning the corner and taking the cross street.

But the way that Xav had tipped their hat before putting it on meant Lee wasn't done yet. Xav had wanted her to follow them to the man's home. She went around the block and waited for the couple to walk past her, then walked behind them, keeping a careful distance while matching their pace. She carefully memorized directions, knowing that Xav would expect her to be able to get them back to the man's house when they came back later that night.

Then she saw the Seventen coming. He was 2 blocks down, but moving towards her and Xav.

Shit, she thought to herself, trying her best not to panic. Lee usually avoided Uptown and, in fact, had been very nervous about going there repeatedly. She knew that it was probably the best place for her and Xav to make money, but she was terrified of going back to the factories and the Seventen made regular rounds to ensure that the gollies were able to shop in peace. She had tried to play tough and hide her fear from Xav, but she still had nightmares about Katie's death. When she woke up sobbing the first night Xav had made it back to the inn sober, her friend had forced her to spill the beans.

But Xav had come up with a plan for if this happened and Lee had a child's faith that it would work. Lee quickly turned onto the next cross street, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder as she went back to her previous hurried walk. Just running an errand, Sir. I'm nobody worth notice, she thought as she walked down the road. After a couple blocks, she risked a peek over her shoulder, tension flowing out of her body as she noticed she hadn't been followed.

"Meet you back at the inn," she muttered under her breath as she made her way back into the Dives.

SpoilerShow
jadeowl: 1d6 = (3) = 3

Lee gets a few small coins from Eli, but that's it. He may or may not notice something off, but Lee gets away safely.

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Elias Mercucianno
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Thu Feb 28, 2019 9:22 pm

40th Achtus, 2718
SOMEWHERE TOO BRIGHT | WAY TO BLOODY EARLY
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“Oh my stars, that’s pretty.” Elias breathed as the wick laughed, sweeping loose hair behind a pale ear with all the grace of a lycat. He fed then coin and lit the cigarette, chuckling at the other man’s words and shaking his head. There were reasons for his departure without the mug, but they were his reasons and his alone. No one wanted or needed to hear the depressing tale of the galdor‘s past, and Elias was not willing to share his deepest heart with anyone. No one, in fact, since he had escaped the burning airship, had ever gotten close enough to know his past. Oh yes, there had been lovers who were more than just casual, but the Bastian pushed them away with his self destructive and self loathing ways. Somewhere, deep within, the brunette blamed himself for the death of his parents. He should have acted, should have been awake, should have helped…
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​​Shrugging off the darkness that chewed at the frayed edges of his mind, Elias’ eyebrows rose with delighted surprise as the wick swept the hat up with a clever flick of his foot to catch the coins in hand and hat on head. Grinning, he tilted his head in mild apology, pinching the spliff between two fingers whilst bowing with an unexpected formal grace and taking the daintily offered hand to place a gentle kiss on the alabaster skin. Glancing up the delicate arm that was attached to the hand, the galdor straighted slowly, still holding pale fingers as he placed the cigarette back between his lips.
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​​ “My most sincere apologies, Xav, for that terrible assumption.” He muttered lavishly, watching with a bemused smirk as the almost feline creature stole his cigarette as though he owned it, welcoming his glamour with a warm brush of his own stronger field. Letting his squinted gaze roam over the Gioran as gentle fingers tempted across his chin, the Bastian felt nothing as the little Lee slipped clever fingers into his jacket pocket to pilfer the few remaining coins in his purse.
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​​ “Eli? I haven’t been called that in a long time.” Elias said quietly, a small ache piercing his chest, but he didn’t rebuke the shortened name. It was worth it, if the tantalising creature was willing to follow him home. Offering his arm for the delicious taking, the galdor chuckled deep in his chest as they began to walk, making way to his home.
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​​ “Breakfast, lunch, dinner...dessert…whatever takes your fancy lovely.” He rumbled, ignorant to any gawking or sidelong glances they might garner as they meandered through Uptown, inhaling his cigarette as though it would provided a cure for his headache. Looking at Xav with a smirk, he narrowed his eyes.
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​​ “Aagghaaleeoh? Aghaleoh. What’s that then? Gioran, or something wick…ish? Tek? It’s pretty. All your words are pretty however, so moot point. Ah, here I am.” Elias stopped them before a lavish two story home, the exterior stonework a dark slate and the entrance a set of stairs leading two a set of deep black painted wooden doors, decorated with gold painted filigree. His home was at the lonely end of a quiet cul-de-sac, framed by what looked to be an empty premises and a sadly unattended park, trees overgrown and grass browning from lack of care. If anyone were to make assumptions, it would seem that Elias had bought a premises as far from actual people in the city as he could. The neighbouring houses in the street seemed sparingly occupied, perhaps by likeminded people who preferred privacy over publicity.
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​​The right door opened as they climbed the few stone stairs to the threshold, and the duo were greeted by the deep bow of a passive gentleman in a finely pressed black suit and well combed grey hair. He swept a hand across his chest and stepped slightly aside to allow Elias to enter with Xav, closing the door and taking coats or hats as presented.
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​​ “Henrick, bring us breakfast in the sitting room. Bacon, eggs, pastries. Coffee. Lots of coffee. Sweetcakes? Sweetcakes.” He asked Xavier, deciding without a reply. The passive nodded and disappeared into the house. The interior of the building was painted in black and gold, dark and closed off from the outside world. Lighting consisted of low burning phosphorus lanterns on the walls, and spectacular crystal and gold chandeliers from the ceiling. There were side tables and cabinets with expensive vases and random brick-a-brak, and paintings of all subject matter on the walls. Leading Xav through the foyer into the sitting room, Elias gestured to the large mauve leather seats that sat before a rather granduous fireplace that burned gently, flicking his cigarette into the flames. Above the fireplace, perched on the wide mantle, was a neatly closed rather decent sized box of sorts. It was painted in black, with red corners and gold clasps.
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​​ “Please, make yourself comfortable. I need to change, shan’t be long my pretty. If you need anything in the next few minutes, just call for Henrick.” Sweeping from the room, Elias made his way upstairs, already loosening his tie and unbuttoning his vest as he walked. Entering the vast, opulent bedroom, he dumped all his clothing where it fell on the marbled stone floor and pulled a thick black bathrobe edged with a fine gold trim from where it had been so neatly folded and placed on the black and gold brocade of his quilted bedspread. Tugging it around his person and tying the robe tight, he kicked off his shoes and socks, before padding barefoot back down the staircase and into the sitting room. He didn’t even look at Xavier as he moved behind the bar and began to mix together various spirits and brightly coloured liquids in a metal container. Focusing his field, the galdor held the container for a moment, uttering a couple of quick syllables for a spell of his own making. Frost formed on the exterior of the cylinder, and a small breath of steam plumed from the brunette. Around them, the mona grated in frustration, causing a sharp pain in both of their skulls like when one drank sometime too cold too fast. Shaking it heartily and wincing at the pain, Elias poured a bright violet concotion into two martini glasses, picking them up with a casual flair and finally looking at Xavier.
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​​ “Cocktail?” He asked, sipping on one drink whilst holding the other out, utterly unpeterbed by the fact it was well before noon.

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Xavier Zhirune
Posts: 90
Joined: Tue Jan 29, 2019 4:00 pm
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Race: Wick
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: Not all that glitters be ging. Some 'f it's me.
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Sun Mar 03, 2019 9:12 am

mercucianno residence, uptown
in the morning of Achtus 40th, 2718

Xavier hadn't known what to expect, unable to hide the flush of color that rose to their cheeks at the quick apology and warm press of lips to one pale hand except by wrapping themselves around the offered arm. The tilt of their head beneath the hat surely hid Xavier's pleasure at the recognition, though they were forced to take a deep breath at the heavy press of the galdor's field.

This was probably a bad idea, but if there was one concord, surely, there were more. A few more concords would make Vienda worth hanging around, worth the forged writ, worth leaving Brunnhold at all. Gods, they should have just stayed, but they weren't good enough for settling down, for anything but a vagrant's life. They'd never be good enough for certain tailors and their lovely, settled lives.

By Imaan's grace, Xav was going to have to keep that lil' witch, Lee, around though. The albino wick felt the flutter of motion, catching the child's movements as if choreographed with practice from the corner of their violet gaze. Little fingers, the lightening of pockets, and the willowy musician made a motion to straighten their hat with their free hand in a subtle motion of gratitude to the girl. Hopefully, she wouldn't spend that whole damn concord before they got to see it again. Hopefully they wouldn't come back to the Book and the Bell to a room full of candy and baked goods, tiny knit sweaters and too many knives. Because, honestly, they'd been eleven once.

The dark-haired galdor really did smell like a godsbedamned tavern floor, "Gioran. Jus' a noise o' surprise, kov. Don't pretend y' ent been 'round tekaa b'fore, Eli. Y' ent that kinda proper jent. I can tell." Hummed Xavier, giving the shorter, dark-haired man a very taunting smile before chuckling. This game was easy, and there was something about the mess this galdor had made of himself that was curious. The musician was good at idle conversation, following where they were led all while keeping a careful watch of street names and landmarks from Crosstown Court all the way to the quiet culdesac—

Yaldyet! Of course this clocking ersehole lived as far from his neighbors as possible—was that an abandoned park? Violet eyes widened and it was all the lithe creature could do to keep their disappointment from their pretty face, but then the door opened and there was a passive.

A servant.

Xavier hated Anaxas.

But not as much as they hated Gior. Or was it just galdori?

Something knotted in their stomach and they slipped from perching against Elias to slide their oud from their shoulder, slip out of their own coat, making the purposeful motion of hanging it all up without Henrick's help, glancing down through colorless eyelashes at the older man almost in apology while they hung their hat. The galdor was talking about food and the musician was distracted, looking back at his stubbled, cleft chin and hatcher may care attitude before meeting his gold-rimmed, green-eyed gaze.

"Coffee? Oes. Yes, please."

Following Eli, lacquered nails brushing the man's arm while they were led through the house, taking note of the location of things, noting items of value that may have been portable. Everything was dark. The curtains were drawn. While Xav disliked being out in direct sunlight, even in the sky, they were still a wild creature that needed light in their lives. The sitting room was as extravagant as the rest of the jent's home, though, much like the man himself, it was just a shell.

The albino wick offered a grin, painted lips turned up in the most careful of flirtatious expressions, waggling a bejeweled hand as if to shoo Elias off, "Mujo ma, definitely go change. Ye'd be doin' us both a favor, ye chen."

Xavier was not a creature best left to their own devices, however, and instead of sitting and waiting patiently, instead of behaving, they were, of course, investigating. They were not at all going to call for the damn passive, if only because they just couldn't look the poor man in the face and feel comfortable asking them for anything, their last memories of their mother still too fresh. Always too fresh.

Fingers traced lightly over furniture but their violet gaze was drawn to the box on the mantle—gilded clasps, dark paint. Maybe it held something expensive. Something special. Drifting toward the fireplace, hands were reaching to investigate the large box, Xav assuming they had more time when—

Clocking hell!

Thankfully, the galdor's field announced his immediate return and the pale musician was able to gracefully make it appear as though they were simply standing idly by the fire, lithe fingers curling up into their bone white hair and pulling it up into a messy bun with the coyest of smiles,

"Ye sooooo didn't wash, Eli." They teased, purring over the lump in their throat, pulse in their ears and blush rising to their colorless cheeks. Xavier felt the movement of mona, felt the discord like they'd just strummed a series of wrong notes, inhaling sharply at the ring of pain. Gods, this golly really lived up to their birthright, living how they pleased. Dangerous. Arrogant. Wasting everything good given them by nature of their privilege—

Maybe they were already biased. Maybe this was a bad idea.

The albino wick was an observant creature—one who picked pockets and entertained crowds needed to be able to read people, to feel them out without talking—and they began to worry they'd made a mistake chasing concords like a greedy whice. Chewing the inside of their cheek, they stepped toward the man who offered a liquid breakfast, not particularly interested but unwilling to turn down any invitations just yet. Delicately reaching for the drink with a warming smile, their fingers brushed Elias' while their other hand traced idly over the lines of the galdor's robe, incandescently lacquered nails scandalously close to bare skin,

"Ye didn't much change, neither." That concord definitely came with expectations. Violet eyes paler than the mixed drink glanced downward over the rim of the glass to meet gold-rimmed hues, "Yer man Henrick all ye've got, kov? Ye livin' a wild bachelor's life are ye?"

They hovered close enough to keep their free hand on the galdor's robe, toying with the knot.

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Elias Mercucianno
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Mon Mar 04, 2019 3:48 am

40th Achtus, 2718
ELIAS’ DIGS | STILL TOO EARLY
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E​​lias chuckled, deep in his chest, at the Gioran’s commentary that there was no way the man couldn’t know that the foreign word was nothing Tek at all. Indeed, proper was far far from what he was, but then what did that matter? Proper wouldn’t have accepted who he was, not in Anaxas and barely in Bastia.
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​​Proper was boring.
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​​Indeed, as the brunette re-entered the room, he had no idea that Xavier had been this close to touching the curious box on the mantle place, and a thankful thing that was. It would have been a very quick way to end a very short relationship. As he poured the drink, the galdor hummed another laugh in the back of his throat.
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​​ “I can’t very well wash without a bath run, and I’m not a monster, I know it takes time. Henrick will let me know when it’s ready. Till then, you’ll just have to bear the brunt of my manly musk.” He pulled his voice into a deep, husky timbre at the last words, wincing as the effort made his head throb. There was a spell, somewhere in his mind, for sore heads and woozy stomachs, but after the frosting of their drinks Elias was fairly certain it would end badly. He wasn’t entirely stupid, and whilst the galdor would welcome a quick death, he wasn’t ready to have someone else’s death or crippling on his hands.
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​​Especially a pretty someone.
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​​Grinning as the moonkissed creature took his offered liquid breakfast with a light brushing of fingers, the Bastian sipped his brightly colored beverage with a wince and a huff. By Hurte, that was stronger than he’d meant for. At least it would chase away the hangover. His gold rimmed gaze glanced down at trailing fingertips with a raised brow.
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​​ “Ah, but I did change now, didn’t I? Now I smell like…” Elias sniffed for a moment.
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​​ “Vanilla? Maybe. But definitely not the Lantern. Just because it’s not a suit and tie doesn’t mean it isn’t clothing.” He rumbled, meeting that lavish violet gaze with a smirk.
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​​"Yer man Henrick all ye've got, kov? Ye livin' a wild bachelor's life are ye?"
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​​The smirk dropped suddenly, Elias’ field shifting defensively, almost jittering as emotions he refused to acknowledge flooded his system.

All you got. All you got because you’re all alone.

Moving away from the wick, the young man turned to look into the low burning fire, taking a long deep drink of the cocktail. Gulping, he tipped the slanted glass up and squeezed his eyes shut as the iced beverage stung his throat. Making a sound of pain and probably regret, Eli placed the now empty container on the mantle, patting his non-existent pockets for his cigarettes.
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​​ “Yes, well. Something like that.” He said quietly, sniffing and moving to the small side table near his lounge chairs. Rifling through the leaflets there, he found a small tinderbox and picked it up, popping the tin open and sliding a pinky finger through the white opiate powder inside to raise it to his nose and inhale sharply. Squeezing the bridge of his nose before offering the tin to his guest, Elias turned to dump himself unceremoniously into one of the lounges, having no sense of shame as he sat with knees apart and head lolled back on the cushions. Staring at the ceiling, he laughed briefly.
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​​ “A wild bachelors fabulous life. That’s me. Wild and free as a clocking bird in this shithole of a city.” Lifting his head, the green and gold eyed man rubbed a hand over his face and sighed, feeling the soft haziness in the back of his head as the opiates kicked in.
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​​ “Sorry. I mean, this wonderful place. The grand city of Vienda. A pretty maiden proclaiming virginity, only to be caught out the whore when her skirts are shoved aside.” An older woman with immaculately placed greying blonde hair in a tight bun and kind grey eyes entered the threshold of the room and knocked on the wooden doorframe.
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​​ “Breakfast sir, is ready in the dining room, with lots of coffee.” Slapping his hands on his knees, Elias rose to his feet and wiggled his fingers at Xav, offering to hold his hand and lead him to the food where it sat waiting for them at the end of a long dark table. Far too long for one man living on his own, yet clearly only used by him. As they passed the woman, another passive by the feel of it, she held out a cup to the Bastian. It appeared to be a herbal tea of kinds, smelling strongly of willowbark. The galdor paused to lean in and press a gentle kiss to the servants cheek as he took the cup.
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​​ ”You are too kind to me Doris.” He muttered, sipping the tea as they moved into the dining room. Drawing one of the chairs back, he invited Xav to sit, pushing their seat in with all the formal charm of a gentleman should the Gioran take it. Slipping into his own, drinking more of the tea before placing it on the table beside him, Elias perused the offerings as Doris moved to place steaming plates of egg and bacon before them. On the table there was a selection of breads and baked goods, sweet and savoury, as well as a collection of fruits and conserves and a pot of coffee with cream and sugar. Reaching for a sweetcake and a good dollop of conserves, the galdor was quiet whilst he ate, field heavy with broodiness and a haziness as the morning high came on. Xav’s comments, innocent as they were, brought too many thoughts when almost sober. It was frightening, and so the unshaven beast welcomed his intoxication back with relief and open arms.
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​​Leaning back with a giggle Elias finished his tea in a few gulps, resting an elbow ​​on the table and his chin on his fist, smiling as he stared at the willowy creature.
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​​ “Has anyone told you how gorgeous you are, Xav? Like Benea came and kissed you one evening and left a piece behind to make mere mortals weep at your perfection.” Biting his lip, the galdor scootched his chair closer, stroking fingers along the pale skin on the back of the other creature’s hand with a heavy finger.
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​​ “Most Giorans I ever met were big, terrifying things. Women that could probably pummel me with one fist. But you are…soft and…wispy.” He giggled again, meeting the unusual hues of violet again with his dilated green and golds.

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Xavier Zhirune
Posts: 90
Joined: Tue Jan 29, 2019 4:00 pm
Topics: 10
Race: Wick
Location: On Tour
: Not all that glitters be ging. Some 'f it's me.
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Writer: Muse
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Mon Mar 04, 2019 2:02 pm

mercucianno residence, uptown
in the morning of Achtus 40th, 2718

The albino wick took everything in, but realized they did not feel much empathy for the man before them. He was living the kind of life that Xavier imagined far too many galdori lived—isolated, wealthy, unfulfilled, alone. They took one sip of the drink handed to them and it took all their well-practiced grace to not let their distaste for something so clocking strong so clocking early to show on their delicate features. Oh sure, they weren't at all above getting drunk at any hour, but this?

Lithe fingers placed it on the counter as they turned to watch Elias down the entire thing, violet eyes narrowing only slightly, colorless eyelashes suddenly balancing heavy lids. It was much easier to take the wealth from those who had too much, but for all the coins this man had, did he have anything else? Something settled uncomfortably in the empty pit of the willowy musicians stomach and it wasn't the mix of alcohol, smirking as the dark-haired galdor uselessly searched for yet another smoke by rubbing palms over his robe.

He didn't have to be good-looking. He really didn't.

Biting their lip, Xav trailed behind the restless creature, warily eying the box that was offered in their direction, "Ne, mujo ma." They whispered their refusal, reaching up with one pale hand to close the box and curl fingers over Elias' for a brief moment, assuring him that it wasn't entirely a refusal of his person.

Maybe it should have been.

Something they'd said had not been entirely well received, and the reaction was curious enough. The tall Gioran's gaze may have wandered mischievously over all that was put on display as Elias melted into a chair and laughed without humor, willingly allowing themselves to drift between the man's knees and look down at him from their vantage point,

"Ye don't gotta sugar coat 't for me, Eli. Vienda's jus' a'ight." Xav lied so beautifully with the coyest of smiles, colorless eyelashes fluttering as if to make light of the sarcasm that hung in the softness of their tone of voice. Reaching to brush stray dark locks from a face that was annoyingly handsome though clearly run ragged by every possible bad habit under Vita's bright, glaring sun. Opening their mouth to purr suggestive words about pretty maidens, their thoughts were interrupted by yet another servant's voice.

Taking a step back—but not too far—the pale musician gave the galdor just barely enough room to stand up, violet gaze straying to the older woman announcing breakfast, traveling over her delicate features and assuming she was another passive. It was far too easy to associate her paleness with their own memories of their passive mother, though her beauty was unrivaled and her albinism pure and glorious, fit for the gods as she'd been deemed. Willingly entwining their bejeweled fingers with the galdor's if only for a moment, hiding just how much they craved the physical support in sight of such ridiculous ignorance, Xavier allowed themselves to be led back through the house toward the dining room.

It was all the albino wick could do not to wince at the patronizing press of lips Elias placed just so upon his servant's cheek.

Gods, galdori really were all alike, even wasted ones.

Their gaze wandered over items of value and memorized entry points as if on tour for such things, mocking shyness and coy surprise as the dark-haired man offered them a chair like some fancy gentlemen he was only a shell of actually being, "Mujo ma." Xav whispered, settling into the chair not at all unlike a skittish animal contemplating a hasty escape.

There was bacon, though. And sweet baked goods. And copious amounts of coffee. And, well, any thief worth their concords would have been remiss to deny a free breakfast, no matter how uncomfortable their company.

Gods, it was all amazing-looking. Moons had dark sides, and so did the albino wick. Aware that their next meal would most likely not be so lavish, they were quick to serve themselves while Elias watched them, stared at them, admired them. They made a show of things, of course, lithe fingers and graceful movements, pausing to lick a bit of fruit jam from their thumb with all the glamorous deviance they were capable of.

Arching a colorless eyebrow at the compliment, Xavier giggled gloriously, violet gaze straying downward to the galdor's touch, biting their lip at the accusation of being soft, at the comment about Gioran women.

"Dze. Women 're matriarchal leaders in m' homeland, kov. Strong, beautiful, decisive. Graceful, wise, powerful. Bein' pretty ent mean y' gotta be weak. Th' Circle's blessed me with this face, with this body, oes, but I've made m'self who I am now." The tone of their voice lowered almost for emphasis, though they were still smiling despite the tightening of their glamour. There was a pause, a wariness, the willowy Gioran aware that they hardly fit into the culture of their birth, let alone the culture of the Kingdom they'd come to pilfer.

Where their more effeminate affectations would have been even more desirable and even admirable in Gior had they been born a golly, here in Anaxas, perceptions of the female gender seemed to mark them as some kind of weaker sex. Granted, there was a lot of ridiculous discrimination in this kingdom that the pale musician had no desire to wrap their non-conformist self around at all, but with a quick flick of their wrist, they'd entwined their fingers with all of Elias', lacquered nails putting an almost taunting pressure against his delicate, never-worked-in-a-day skin,

"I ent soft, if by soft ye mean pliable an' somethin' made t' bend t' yer manly will, Eli, handsome though 't may be. I do what I want, when I want, an' I ent heard bodies complain yet." In much the same manner as the other man had done in the park, Xavier raised the hand they held of his to their purple-tinted lips, a flush of warm color having risen to their cheeks in their passionate form of self-expression put into words. Kissing his knuckles and the back of his hand gently, Xav leaned away to laugh, setting Elias' hand down on their thigh with obvious invitation,

"B'sides, it ent m' fault adorable Anaxi 're all pocket-sized. I still know what t' do with one jus' fine if yer worried." Poor, ignorant jent. At least he was cute. Too cute for his own good, even when high before noon. Xavier would have pitied him if they'd had any real softness beneath their perceived gentle performance, Elias' comments reminding them just how well they'd perfected this mask they wore.

Galdori kept proving themselves all the same, and this one was no exception.

How disappointing.

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