Llyr switched his focus from the fractures and his arcane study to the exchange of information regarding his stalker. He told Kasoria of the shadow, of his hunches and the rumors that circulated around an unnatural woman. He shared the various informants that he’d put on the task, not trials ago, but seasons ago. The Quacian almost explained his true theory on the matter… but then he chose not to.
Kasoria didn’t need to know about the past that led to something like the shadow woman. He didn’t need to know about the chains, or the slaves, or the brothel, or the cave-in, or any of it. He only needed to know enough to handle it, as the older man so precisely put it.
When the human smoked… Llyr glanced about, nervously, then decided to not say anything. He didn’t see Dean Rush anywhere. Though he did lift a hand and wave it to disperse the thin smoke. His pulse thrummed in his pointed ears, fast and merciless. The fever still dappled his perfect skin with beads of sweat.
“An’ what we got planned? When the time’s right, how…”
Llyr shook his head, even as the words trailed off. He placed a hand at his lips, concerned for a moment that he might retch again.
“If yeh can’t do this, shut it down now, an’ I’ll find another wa-”
“No,” interrupted Llyr in a firm tone. It was the same kind of no he gave to Hazel during their journey across Etzos – whenever the girl wanted to sleep more or asked if they could go home to the southern continent. The biqaj frowned, and crossed his arms in front of his chest, obviously not wanting to hear Kasoria’s concerns. He snorted but didn’t respond otherwise.
“You don’t have to concern yourself with that.” Llyr’s eyes had changed color, away from the silver, and to a yellow-orange blend that almost glowed for how vivid the pigmentation was. He noticed Kasoria pointedly looking at the vomit. Llyr sighed. He let go of some tension in his shoulders that had caused him to stiffen in posture.
"Worked wiv' junkied 'afore. Don't end well. They fuck up. Can't keep their eyes onna' job. Youse got... all this shite, fuckin' countries away from the Big Rock. An' now yer studyin' so deep into these books y'might as well be a worm. On toppa' all that, yer tryin' t'keep our plan goin' an' got this shadow bitch after yeh, an'-"
“I told you, I can fucking handle it. With or without your aid. If you can’t trust me enough to trust that then I do-”
CRACK
The slam of Kasoria’s hands against the table caused Llyr to involuntarily jump.
The irises of the biqaj’s eyes changed immediately to a brilliant red. So vivid and bright, the hue broke past the irises and submerged his eyes in the red-bloody color. Llyr had shut up, but he stood from his chair… as if to remind the old assassin of their height difference, by towering over the shadowy killer. His halo brightened and his dragonfly wings fanned outward.
When he recognized the hint of tenderness in Kasoria’s features, Llyr also eased somewhat. His wings folded again. His halo returned to an easy candlelight sheen, rather than nearly causing a blinding flash. Llyr stopped glaring, and he set his fingertips lightly against the table, near Kasoria’s fingers. He leaned forward to meet the other man in a similar rebellious stand like before when the Etzori had first stepped into Viden.
"We fuck this up, we're both dead. Me an' youse. I ain't gonna let that happen. So... if yer not capable... lemme know. I'll spare yeh that."
Llyr’s features tensed. His crimson eyes glanced over Kasoria, then he spoke so lowly in his deep, southern accented voice that the words rumbled in his chest, “It won’t happen. Take care of this shadow for me, and you’ll see I’m far more capable than you even realize, red-blood.”
“Now, go,” he demanded. For in the distance, he could recognize the sound of people approaching. Not just one pair of boots, but three. They likely had heard the smack on the table, if not smelled the smoke or had some sort of magical trigger go off because of it. Llyr would be in trouble, there was no doubt, and he would have to explain his way to be allowed to continue studying as he was; to not be expelled or refused further entry to the aracana section.
But first, he had to get Kasoria to disappear. If he was seen with the man, there might be worse repercussions than mere chiding of a librarian or punishment from the dean... for it could appear as if he were selling away the secrets in the arcane tomes. It could easily be spun into a crime of Viden.
“You cannot be here. This is a restricted section, and your little theatrics-” he wryly smiled at that, fully aware of how ironic it was that he was calling Kasoria theatrical. “-means you must go before they see you. If they find you here, they might arrest us and this is the city of the Immortal, Yvithia. You do not want to fall into her grasp. Leave. I will find you when I have made meaningful progress with our plan.”
Kasoria didn’t need to know about the past that led to something like the shadow woman. He didn’t need to know about the chains, or the slaves, or the brothel, or the cave-in, or any of it. He only needed to know enough to handle it, as the older man so precisely put it.
When the human smoked… Llyr glanced about, nervously, then decided to not say anything. He didn’t see Dean Rush anywhere. Though he did lift a hand and wave it to disperse the thin smoke. His pulse thrummed in his pointed ears, fast and merciless. The fever still dappled his perfect skin with beads of sweat.
“An’ what we got planned? When the time’s right, how…”
Llyr shook his head, even as the words trailed off. He placed a hand at his lips, concerned for a moment that he might retch again.
“If yeh can’t do this, shut it down now, an’ I’ll find another wa-”
“No,” interrupted Llyr in a firm tone. It was the same kind of no he gave to Hazel during their journey across Etzos – whenever the girl wanted to sleep more or asked if they could go home to the southern continent. The biqaj frowned, and crossed his arms in front of his chest, obviously not wanting to hear Kasoria’s concerns. He snorted but didn’t respond otherwise.
“You don’t have to concern yourself with that.” Llyr’s eyes had changed color, away from the silver, and to a yellow-orange blend that almost glowed for how vivid the pigmentation was. He noticed Kasoria pointedly looking at the vomit. Llyr sighed. He let go of some tension in his shoulders that had caused him to stiffen in posture.
"Worked wiv' junkied 'afore. Don't end well. They fuck up. Can't keep their eyes onna' job. Youse got... all this shite, fuckin' countries away from the Big Rock. An' now yer studyin' so deep into these books y'might as well be a worm. On toppa' all that, yer tryin' t'keep our plan goin' an' got this shadow bitch after yeh, an'-"
“I told you, I can fucking handle it. With or without your aid. If you can’t trust me enough to trust that then I do-”
CRACK
The slam of Kasoria’s hands against the table caused Llyr to involuntarily jump.
The irises of the biqaj’s eyes changed immediately to a brilliant red. So vivid and bright, the hue broke past the irises and submerged his eyes in the red-bloody color. Llyr had shut up, but he stood from his chair… as if to remind the old assassin of their height difference, by towering over the shadowy killer. His halo brightened and his dragonfly wings fanned outward.
When he recognized the hint of tenderness in Kasoria’s features, Llyr also eased somewhat. His wings folded again. His halo returned to an easy candlelight sheen, rather than nearly causing a blinding flash. Llyr stopped glaring, and he set his fingertips lightly against the table, near Kasoria’s fingers. He leaned forward to meet the other man in a similar rebellious stand like before when the Etzori had first stepped into Viden.
"We fuck this up, we're both dead. Me an' youse. I ain't gonna let that happen. So... if yer not capable... lemme know. I'll spare yeh that."
Llyr’s features tensed. His crimson eyes glanced over Kasoria, then he spoke so lowly in his deep, southern accented voice that the words rumbled in his chest, “It won’t happen. Take care of this shadow for me, and you’ll see I’m far more capable than you even realize, red-blood.”
“Now, go,” he demanded. For in the distance, he could recognize the sound of people approaching. Not just one pair of boots, but three. They likely had heard the smack on the table, if not smelled the smoke or had some sort of magical trigger go off because of it. Llyr would be in trouble, there was no doubt, and he would have to explain his way to be allowed to continue studying as he was; to not be expelled or refused further entry to the aracana section.
But first, he had to get Kasoria to disappear. If he was seen with the man, there might be worse repercussions than mere chiding of a librarian or punishment from the dean... for it could appear as if he were selling away the secrets in the arcane tomes. It could easily be spun into a crime of Viden.
“You cannot be here. This is a restricted section, and your little theatrics-” he wryly smiled at that, fully aware of how ironic it was that he was calling Kasoria theatrical. “-means you must go before they see you. If they find you here, they might arrest us and this is the city of the Immortal, Yvithia. You do not want to fall into her grasp. Leave. I will find you when I have made meaningful progress with our plan.”
