Lesson Learned (Ifran)

[Vail Atticus]

65 Winter, 511 AV Petching Tarl! Vail was livid. His jaw was clenched so tightly that the little vein there twitched and pulsed. His blue eyes were stark and clear, the color brilliant with the intensity of his emotion. He hoisted his feet up as he took a long stride over a bit of water that had puddled near the curb. Here he was, stuck in petching Alvadas. Alone. All because of a stupid, drunken argument. There was no way he was going to beg his brother for a place to stay, and as such, he had to make good on his threat to Tarl. He'd have to earn his own money. So it was that Vail Atticus, with his mother's ribbons in his fair hair, made his way to the nearest establishment he could locate. The Sun and Stars Tavern. Vail had not done a solo performance in over a decade. He'd danced with Tarl ever since they'd left this accursed city ten years before. This had been the case, even when they had returned to Alvadas last spring. Of course, things had been growing tense, as Tarl's jealousy for Vail's slough of lovers had increased at an almost violent rate. They'd shared before, but in Ahnatep, Vail had not flaunted it so. Perhaps he'd wanted to make Tarl jealous to increase the attention he gave. But he certainly hadn't expected him to leave. He glanced about anxiously. There had to be someone here who would know what to do or who to talk to. Perhaps he'd even be able to find someone to dance with him, though he wasn't getting his hopes up for that.

[Ifran]

In Ahnatep, there were lap pools with naked, nubile ladies waiting with towels, light refreshments, and other things. In Alvadas, Ifran walked several miles down the coastline, stripped, dove into the surf and swam as far as he could while holding onto enough energy to get back to shore. He still had his discipline no matter how luxuriously he comported himself, drinking, eating, and all such, and so he pushed himself physically in training at the coliseum or in the sea, mentally at the waterlogged library, and spiritually ... well, Ionu had yet to notice him. His skin limned in sea salt, Ifran lounged about in Laszlo's bar. Well, it belonged to Seven and Victor as well, and he knew them too, though he was closer to Laszlo. Being close to a person was a new sort of thing for him, and he figured it was bound to end badly, but there it was. The cold mug of beer was refreshing, though he had been careful to hydrate with pure water first. Now he just watched people; they were all character studies. Take the man dressed with hints of the woman about him, and Ifran had to wonder why, whether he meant the illusion to be complete or was making some sort of artistic statement with what was, at least to Ifran, and obviously incomplete transition.