Closed More Than Strangers

[Noven]

As always, Keene's self discipline proved significantly more diligent than that of Nov's. A muted moan and stretch of the arms later, the Initiate was up, sage green eyes blinking in assessment. His counterpart, meanwhile, remained lying on his back for a bit longer. He was too busy studying the pale, sculpted planes of Keene's back and shoulders, from arm stretching beginning to upright, seated end, watching lean muscles shift in tandem with the limber motion of rising.

There was a slight gingerness to the way the other man moved this morning, however. No doubt a mutual souvenir from their amorous endeavors the night before. Though, Nov found that far less in need of attention than the curving, well formed flesh where mat and Initiate bordered.

His hand was already creeping forward, inch by devious inch, when that of the Initiate's brushed against his chest, tracing gentle lines down to his stomach. The Scar found himself mesmerized by the other man's touch, lulled into complacency as he tracked its idle progress. Then Keene drew away, yawned, and leaned back on both hands to continue taking stock of their shambles they'd left their borrowed room in. Efforts thwarted, Nov's hand retreated and attempted instead to follow in Keene's lead.

He managed to push himself up to sit beside his companion, but not without livid, aching protests from every part of his body and a muttered slew of curses to accompany them. Half a dozen groans and hisses later, he was up. Only a faint stream of Syna's morning rays shone through the single, barred window, dimly illuminating their broom closet of a room and aided sparingly by the remaining three candles of their original ten. The subdued atmosphere was something of a welcome relief; Nov was sure he could feel the dull throbbings of an approaching headache, and the last thing he needed, with only Keene present once more, was to have his eyes seared by blinding, necessary light.

The merc slid a hand over his face, trying to rub the grogginess away, before running it once through his disheveled hair. He didn't even want to think about having to make that trip all the way to the Nuit spa and its touchy mistress. It was hard enough just trying to work up the will to stand.

Nov turned when Keene did in unconscious synchrony, catching the wordless nod. Then his face tilted upward as the Initiate got to his feet, eyes following after him in a mixture of confusion, curiosity, fascination. The first, because he had no idea what Keene intended to do. The second, because now he was really itching to know what the answer to the first was. And the third, because the other man was still stark naked, and with each lissome step and graceful bend, Nov got an eyeful of what he deemed, purely for his own, depraved amusement, a hearty breakfast for the eyes. Which he feasted upon with neither shame nor restraint.

A handful of ticks later, the merc regretted his indulgence. Because the blood was rushing downward again, and he in no condition to entertain another stiff appendage. He was still tender and exhausted. Any further manifestation of his desires would only grow painfully uncomfortable.

Tearing his gaze away, Nov focused on thinking of other things. He took deeper breaths and wondered over the state of his Gibbat pup instead, of the other Scars, of the orphans back home. Anything to get his mind off of the pale, lithe distraction before him. Thinking of Sunberth more or less did the trick, placing a damper on his otherwise buoyant mood and forcing him to feel that tug of sorrow he'd been trying to avoid for so long.

Fortunately, Keene returned not long after, having placed most of their belongings outside of the door. Noven pondered over his companion's actions for about as long as it took the other man to return to his side. The Scar wasn't overly concerned; he was willing to place his life in the Initiate's hands. What was a bit of clothing and other sundries in comparison? Not to mention that, for the first time in a long time, Nov didn't need to worry about theft. People here weren't terribly interested in his meager possessions and almost no one visited these upper floors.

He watched as Keene knelt, sighing faintly in response as cool, gentle knuckles brushed against the heated side of his cheek. Then the mage was gone again, this time with their blanket in tow. He set it outside with the rest of their things and closed the door behind him. Strange, how the metallic click of the latch seemed somehow ominous.

What do you have planned in that clever little head of yours? Nov wondered to himself, the corners of his mouth twitching just a fraction.

Then Keene asked his neutral, baldfaced question, and his partner visibly balked.

"Here?" Nov echoed, eyes darting around their now empty quarters before they returned to settle, wide with bewilderment, on the Initiate. And with what? immediately followed in his mind, but he chose to omit that part.

"I wouldn't know how the hell you'd pull that off," he continued, now sporting an incredulous grin, "But petch it. I'm not opposed."

With a grunt of effort and somewhat jerky movements, Noven pushed himself up to stand weakly before Keene. And though the next words he spoke were delivered through a half squint and wince, partially wheezed from aching muscles, they carried with them just a tinge of crooked-smiled roguery.

"Just promise you'll be gentle."

[Keene Ward]

He blinked at Noven's confusion, grey gaze widening just slightly in his own mirror of the emotion through the fog of his neutrality. "Yes." There was little insistence, only a soft affirmation. Noven had acquiesced to quite a lot over the past twelve or so bells, and Keene had little intention of forcing him into anything. It was a strange thought to pass through his mind. The idea that Noven's desires and comfort was innately more important than his own was not one he had had concerning those who were not directly above him in power, status, and position. In a way, Noven had command over him in more profound a way than any master before him, but it was a different sort of influence, one that Keene willed himself under rather than accepting the external forces that had led to any specific situation.

The incredulity soon gave way to the crooked, heart-stopping grin that slipped straight through any meticulous analysis and right into Keene's heart. It was then his turn to pause for a moment like some blank faced, startled deer before Noven's movements brought him back to attention. The clumsy, uncertain rise of the sun kissed body before him was almost more alluring than the strong and powerful manner in which Noven typically held himself. There was something about the weakness, the vulnerability, that found a rise in Keene's sensitivities. He flinched slightly as the rush of blood flooded into place, finding that his body was a bit more sore than he'd initially thought, and the change was far less welcome than it had been the night past. With no reason in mind to hide himself from Noven, Keene simply ignored the strain of his weary nerves as his eyes moved with a blatant appreciation for the form that rose to stand just slightly above him.

It was strange the manner in which Keene found Noven's body so mesmerizing. Though, each time, he memorized each curve and shape, the gentle shifts of color where the skin had been hidden from the sun, the way the muscles rippled underneath the flesh he knew to be so firm and inviting, each time, there was something more, something different. In the dimly lit quarters, with his mind still gently swaying from the first night of blissful sleep he had had since he could remember, Keene was drawn towards the other man as he offered his caveat. His hand gently pressed against Noven's chest, testing the pain and finding it oddly bearable. It wasn't that there was no pain or that it had necessarily become any less. In a sense, it was overridden by the desire for contact, a war within his mind of what he instinctively knew to be undesirable countered by what he explicitly had decided was desirable. For a moment, Keene was wholly distracted by the strange mix of searing pain and comfortable pleasure, blinking down at his hand with a thinly veiled perplexity.

It only lasted for a tick before those grey-green eyes rose to meet the smoldering amber gaze of the man from whom he stood only a kiss away. "I promise." The hand on the chest slid its way up and around the back Noven's neck while the other set itself gently on a shoulder as Keene melted into a gentle kiss. It didn't last long, and as he took a step back, res drifted from his lips in a soft, bluish haze that slowly drifted around the two of them. For all intents and purposes, it moved of its own accord, rising into a mist above the two of them as Keene took another step back, eyes sliding reluctantly from Noven's face to the mass of res above them.

He drew the water in the air around them first, the humidity of the room decreasing as it gathered in the growing cloud. He began to supersaturate the air within the space that the res occupied, carefully feeding more and more res to add to the water that had been gathered. As he did so, Keene ran thin lines of fire through the gathering liquid, the element disappearing as it was created, producing an effect that was similar to a small flecks of blue throughout the otherwise greyish cloud. With a nod, the rain began to fall in a steady trickle. The water was warm, though perhaps not quite as heated as a boiled bath might have been, and it began to douse both men with a playful patter of rain against skin and stone as it steadily fell.

For about a half chime, Keene just watched. The trails that the water left as it ran in rivulets down Noven's sculpted form, the sheen of his skin as it reflected the dying light of the candles around them, even the manner in which Noven stared at the cloud above them; each moment, every tick, Keene gathered and stowed away like little treasures, far past the point of seriously wondering why he partook of such frivolities. When it came to Noven, there didn't have to be any reason beyond "I want to." Stepping forward then, Keene brought his hands back to Noven's chest, only this time he began to gently press against the skin, massaging the muscles beneath as he worked the water over the other man more completely. He didn't have soap, but their time together had been one of sweat and passion, a rinsing with a thorough scrub seemed adequate.

He kept the rainfall relatively minimal as his hands slid their way to Noven's shoulders. His breath came a bit quicker and slightly more labored as he found their contact both painful and oddly alluring - which in turn ended up being a bit painful in its own right. It wasn't long before Keene found his chest pressed against Noven's, hands pressed and carefully searching Noven's broad back as he gently kissed the crook of the other man's neck. The rain continued to fall, coating them in a pleasantly luke-warm drizzle, yet Keene still shivered beneath the conflicting messages that his nerves relayed to him. Pain and pleasure mixed, and he found himself relatively solidly balanced between the two of them. Practice, as it was said, made perfect, and while it was perhaps not the most optimal mix of sensation, it was more than bearable. His hands moved from Noven's back, slipping from under Noven's shoulders, arms wrapping around the back of his head as he worked his fingers through the man's partially drenched hair.

His kisses moved to a press of his forehead against the other man's, teeth gingerly tugging at lips he had become so familiar with in so short a time. His fingers moved steadily, rubbing small, concise circles over Noven's scalp to help facilitate the water's advances. The fire that scalded each press of his skin against Noven's was almost addictive, and while he forced his hips to keep enough distance that the truly uncomfortable rise wouldn't press against skin that so tantalizingly called out to him, he found the privacy of their intimate rain shower to be far preferable to the vast, open space of the Hydrasa's baths. Pulling back with a quiet sigh, Keene let his hands slide down to the back of Noven's neck, pressing with a steady force on the muscles there as well to help the water do its cleansing job. While his movements were steady and firm, they were hardly educated. Keene had only ever washed another person once before, and it had been Noven's back when he had been armed with soap and towel. The best he could do with the two of them stark naked beneath a reimantic shower of magical water was to wash Noven as he washed himself.

Pausing for a moment, Keene raised a slight brow, unsure whether Noven had a preference in cleaning or not. "What should I clean next?" The water dripped from his lips as he spoke, the steady, gentle rainfall creating a subtle backdrop of pattering peacefulness to their exchange. While he had proposed the activity, Keene wasn't entirely sure his execution was the best way. So, he waited for Noven's reply, arms resting almost lazily around Noven's neck if not for the uncontrollable tension in his muscles in response to the pain that served in its strangely dualistic purpose. There was, however, just a hint of what might have been mischief in the young man's eyes, though its presence was certainly no indication of a conscious state of deviancy. There were parts of Noven Keene preferred, and he had no qualms if they were what Noven wanted him to address. It was less mischievous and more practical, or so it was in Keene's Noven clouded reasoning.

[Noven]

He couldn't help noticing the Initiate's reaction. Flattery, chagrin, intrigue, a sanguine reaction of his own--Nov shuffled through emotions in no particular order, nor intent, as the pale, limber visage before him glided forward. It placed a cool hand upon the suddenly too-warm surface of his chest, staring at where their skin met with open puzzlement.

Not for the first time that morning, Nov wondered how much pain Keene still felt when they touched, if the condition had lessened or worsened at all over the course of their intimacy. He'd hoped it was something one could conquer over time, but he was no idle, day dreaming fool. The Scar knew as well as anyone that, for one, time was not on their side. And for another, even if it were, even if the two of them had all the days and nights of a full, unburdened life, free of enemies and ruthless ambition, there was no guarantee they'd ever be able to unravel the mystery of Keene's affliction. If anyone in all of Mizahar could.

It was then that he decided he would try to look for some way. There had to be one, in the vastness of the world beyond the island. If the Nuits didn't have any answers, at least none they were willing to part with, then they could look elsewhere. He would do almost anything if it meant easing Keene's pain.

Noven watched the other man with troubled desire as lips found his in another gentle kiss. Even if he did manage to run off looking for answers, how long would it be before he could return, empty handed or no? Restrictions. So many restrictions. Even as they boldly defied as many as they could, took every risk they refused to regret in the face of staggering odds, more obstacles lay scattered in their path.

By the time Keene drew away, having whispered his shiver-inducing answer and soothed some of the brooding lines from Noven's face, the merc's eyes were closed and his breath quickened. Gods, it was lunacy. How completely and utterly a single person could enthrall him. A person he'd never even known existed until a fortnight ago, and even then who could have ever guessed? Certainly not either of the two, young men standing in the middle of a barren little room, both as naked as they day they were born. Nov felt like half of his senses had been stolen, whisked away by some unseen force, and kept in the Initiate's safekeeping. Though he couldn't decide who was more culpable for it: the thief who had committed the heist, or the victim who had allowed himself to be robbed without a single word or act of complaint.

Then again, he reminded himself amusedly as he felt those velvet lips part from his, Keene might argue the very same thing, only with the roles reversed. It was a hopeless endeavor, trying to see who was more spellbound by the other. A competition Nov knew would see no victor because it was impossible to judge.

The sight of pale, blue mist floating from Keene's mouth, however, jarred him out of his private musings. Res, Nov remembered it was called. What a curious thing to see, even for the fourth or fifth time, as it drifted above them to amass in a sort of amorphous cloud. His eyes followed those of the Initiate's, trailing up to stare in wonderment at the cloud grew. Then his gaze fell back onto Keene once more. The mage was doing...something...but what? Nov had no way of telling, given his limited understanding, only that the thing over their heads was expanding, with occasional flecks of blue peeking through.

Normally, Noven might have considered bolting straight out the door at a magical display this blatant and complex. But he was with Keene. And he knew in his very bones there was nothing to fear, so long as the Initiate was by his side, even in the face of something he found intensely alien and intimidating.

There was beauty in it too, however. Especially when what the merc quickly recognized as rain began to trickle down from the cloud. His face lit upon discovering it was also warm upon their skin, as if it had somehow been heated. Was that what the blue flecks had been for? Had this really all been Keene's doing and his alone? Because if it was, and Nov was quite certain of the answer without having to ask, then the man before him had just introduced a side to magic that he'd never been able to truly appreciate before.

"Keene." Noven gave an incredulous little laugh, raising his hands in genuine awe as warm rain splashed against his open palms. Then he looked to his companion through the gentle fall of water. Eyes wide, voice thick with artless admiration. "You're incredible.

Gracefully, the Initiate moved closer to run his hands across Noven's upper half. The Scar found this even more pleasing than when they'd bathed properly in the Nuit spa. And eye opening, as well. He'd never been bathed by another man before, let alone this intimately, and every press, every sweep, was as novel as it was gratifying. He wasn't surprised this time when the other man sank against him to rub searchingly across his back and lay a tender kiss upon his neck, responding instead by leaning in with an inaudible sigh. It was as if his body had come to expect the closeness and enticing sensations, his hands trailing up Keene's back in an exploratory cleanse of their own.

As pale fingers began to work their way through his dampened hair, Nov closed his eyes, head tilting slightly to one side. The simple, efficient motions, paired with Keene's soft kisses, bordered on the divine. His own hands kneaded pale, lean muscles in response with deepened urgency, while the rest of his body relaxed under such soothing pleasure.

The other man's hands and lips seemed to be everywhere and no where all at once. Nov felt his lips tugged, their foreheads press, those sorcerous fingers eliciting all manner of revelry from head to neck to torso.

There was a moment of disappointment, however, as the Initiate drew away. But it was followed by a question--a subtly wicked one, if the faint glint of mischief in Keene's eyes was anything to go by--and that disappointment transformed instantly into thoroughly piqued interested.

"Like I said, Nov smirked as he looked down at his companion. "A right, proper minx."

He raised a hand to part some of the soaked, light brown locks from Keene's eyes, while the other ran suggestively low down the small of his back. "That's an offer I'm hard pressed to refused." Nov's grin widened at his own joke, even though he held no expectation that the Initiate would catch on. "But I think we're both in need of...rest. As much as we can get, before we..."

He pulled Keene closer and pressed hip against hip in a light grind to illustrate his point. "...you know."

His left hand released the Initiate's waist and rose to join his right, cupping the other man's face for a slow, drawn out kiss. Before their lips even parted Nov was already moving on to re-explore different areas. He remembered how their skin had clung to one another and chose to rub warm, trickling rain water over Keene's chest, making sure no sticky residues remained upon that smooth, taut flesh.

"I've nothing more to ask," Noven confessed in a soft murmur as he bathed his fairer, impossibly more exquisite partner. So much grace, so much control concentrated into one man. It was no wonder Keene could do what he could with the precision and ease to match. Yet, beneath that icy exterior, there was no doubt of the living, breathing mortal who craved intimacy as much as the next. "I think we're good, just like this. You, me, and our magic bath cloud."

The merc had no concept of how long the two of them stood there, languishing beneath droplets of res rain as they patiently, lovingly helped clean one another. All he knew was that it was the most pleasant bathing experience he'd ever been privy to in his life.

oocBecause you asked for it:

[Keene Ward]

Keene didn't understand the metaphor, but from the way Noven said it, it seemed that he found it amusing. He blinked back at Noven, waiting for a true answer to the question and finding that Noven instead advanced upon him, feet gently splashing in the puddle that had formed beneath them. The tenderness far outweighed the spikes of pain as the fingers brushed against him and the hand slid to the small of back. Though he flinched as Noven suggestively rubbed their bodies together, Keene pressed back a tick later, the strain painful in its own right even before he eased it to slide along the rain soaked figure before. "Copulate." Noven had a way of talking around things, and while it was simply Noven's way, Keene saw little need for it. They had each explored the other so thoroughly on several occasions that the concept of modesty seemed even more irrelevant than he had thought it before.

Noven was correct, however, as though Keene wanted to be close to to the other man, he had yet to recover from the night prior. The pain in his lower regions was amplified by the fatigue, and it made contact wholly uncomfortable, even with the desires pushing him forward. His body responded the moment Noven drew his hand back to Keene's face, his hips shifting so that they were no longer quite so close in proximity. The kiss, however, brought every other part of his body he could manage closer. The rain that fell around them complimented the heat of the gesture, each drop sparking a new tingle of longing as Keene's hands rose to hold Noven in an embrace, loosly wrapped about the back of Noven's head. Fingers slid down the front of his chest, pressing into him with a steady exploration much as his own had done before.

When Noven spoke again, the quiet, rumbling whisper came from behind as Noven turned him around to move his hands along the quivering muscles of his stomach, the warmth of Noven's body behind him, wrapping him in soft embrace of needling pain and soothing comfort. His breath slipped from his lips in a sigh of content as he molded his body to better fit against the muscular curves behind him. "Very well." His own was little more than a whisper beneath the patter of rain as he tilted his head back to tease Noven's lips with his own, hands over the other man's hands tensing every now and then when Noven got a bit too close the only point on his body that currently caused him more pain than pleasure. As Noven's hands seemed to switch from a dedicated path to an ambling exploration, Keene gently pulled away, kneeling down to kiss and trail his tongue over the area's Noven had addressed for him.

The bitter taste was diluted by the rainfall, and Noven's own intoxicating flavor mixed throughout. He spent a time with his ministrations, enough self control to keep him from the target that taunted him with each pass he made. Noven shuddered beneath him, and Keene drew back to let the rain finish the cleansing, not wanting to push Noven any farther. When that was done, Keene rose with a lugubrious fluidity, his own body still a bit worse for wear though much cleaner at that point. They spent a few more chimes running the water through their hair and under their arms until they were thoroughly clean before Keene let his attention slip from Noven's hypnotic features to address the rainfall.

The cloud shivered for a tick before the water was drawn back out of the air. The transparent orb of water then slowly passed between them, drawing the water off of their bodies and leaving them only slightly damp. The pool beneath them was also drawn up, and Keene's minor gestures of twitching fingers directed the water to snake out of the tiny window, disappearing from sight. What was left behind were two, most dry, very naked young men, a single candle's light, and two cots that were in much the same shape as the individual who had brought them into the room. The floor was slightly warmer that usual thanks to the rainfall, but it was dry. With something that was suspiciously close to reluctance, Keene's fingers absentmindedly wrapped themselves around Noven's. The pain and pleasure of the touch had grown expected, and Keene found if he initiated the contact, he was able to do so without flinching. "Shall we get dressed?"

[Noven]

Literally being bathed with kisses. Now there was a phrase Nov had never imagined he'd be using with such naked truth.

He couldn't help himself, despite his own words, daring his hands lower. Though he did it more for the thrill of the Initiate's reactions than any true desire to rekindle what they'd agreed to let simmer. There was something about eliciting even the mildest response from Keene that brought the Scar an exhilarating sense of allure and achievement. It was a kind of euphoria all on its own, and he couldn't get enough of it.

Only problem was, he had failed to anticipate his companion sharing the same sentiments. So when Keene turned around to start trailing kisses all the way down past his stomach, Nov nearly lost his breath and lower body strength at the same time. He'd been caught completely off guard. And...good gods, that felt like...was he using his tongue? Nov's eyes widened for a tick when something rough and lukewarm slid dangerously close to the sensitive center of his lower half. He looked down.

Yep. That was definitely Keene's tongue.

Not knowing whether to make the other man stop or encourage him to go farther, Noven just stood there, frozen between tantalizing pleasure and paralyzing indecision. Meanwhile, the Initiate worked his mouth and tongue within an inch of causing his recipient truly excruciating bliss, making sure to stay just out of range before rising as smoothly as if he'd done nothing mischievous at all.

The merc watched his partner through dazed slits for eyes, unable to tell if Keene had received any self-indulgent glee from the reactions he'd just extracted. Then Nov gave up after a few ticks. It was impossible to tell; he would have to find out another time. And sometime soon, he reminded himself, given their ever shortening days left together.

They were a bit more focused on getting genuinely clean after that, though the darker of the two couldn't say he wasn't tempted to return the favor. There were no words exchanged once they'd finished. Just a knowing glance from one to another, a sort of shared sense of completion that hung in the air. Then Noven was looking up again, along with Keene, at their magical bath cloud. Except time, he knew something res-related was supposed to happen, even if he wasn't certain what that something would entail. So it was with no small amount of fascination that the Scar observed what transpired next. The cloud over their heads shivered, and then all of the water--on them, around them, beneath them--slowly drifted up to form one floating, mass of liquid.

With nothing more then a twitch of the fingers, Keene sent the ball out of their tiny window to disappear only gods knew where. Presumably the empty ground below, Nov guessed. He then gave himself and his hair a few experimental pats, and his mouth promptly fell open in awe.

Before he could so much as gush a comment, the Initiate's fingers hand wrapped around his. Nov looked up, pulled gently from his state of amazement. He nodded in vague agreement to the suggestion. It wasn't until a couple of ticks later that he fully came to, blinking away the open wonder that had been dancing in his eyes. Nov looked toward his companion and blurted, "Did I say you were incredible, Keene? I take it back. You're fucking brilliant, is what you are!"

The merc was grinning foolishly, he knew, but he couldn't help himself. Without thinking, he brought Keene's hand up to his face and gave it an earnest kiss.

"Don't worry, I'll get our things."

And then he was off, bare feet padding across warm, dry stones before he reached the door and opened it cautiously. Nov looked to the right, then to the left, making sure no one was wandering about in the hallway before he bent to scoop up their clothing first. The rest he figured they could collect on their way out, the thought of which filled him with a looming sense of dread and a tinge of sadness. But he didn't give himself time to dwell. He turned around and made his way back to his naked companion, clothing in tow.

Together, they collected their respective pants, shirts, and sundries and began to dress. It wasn't a terribly complicated or fussy affair, given the humble state of their wardrobes. Which, Noven found, he didn't mind in the least bit. It was nice to have something in his life not tangled to all hell.

But the more of himself he managed to dress, the more of that dread he began to feel. Another day gone...which meant another day less they would have with one another. They'd squeezed every drop of joy they could out of their evening and morning together, and still somehow it was not enough. Not by a long shot. Nov felt himself suddenly panic; he didn't want to leave, to be away from Keene. He knew this wasn't the last they would see of each other, at least not for another couple of days, but it was close, and that was alarming enough on its own. Against all sense of practicality and logic, the Scar began trying to think up of ways he could stay. Maybe just linger behind and catch up with the others later. It was doable, if he found a way to be useful here, and convinced Bitzer his reasons were completely professional ones...

No, he told himself. It can't be done. There is too much at stake, too much waiting for me at home. And I'm not the only one with duties and goals to worry about.

With a heavy but resolute heart, Noven strode over to hold the door open for his companion once they'd finished dressing. He insisted that Keene take whatever fish was left, though in the end they decided the wine might do better in his hands, since it had become apparent the Initiate held no love for its taste. But Nov promised they could finish the bottle later, together. He couldn't bring himself to say "before I leave for good," though the meaning was implied, and there was little either man could do about that single, immutable truth.

His voice was steady when he spoke, but the sadness in his eyes was clear. "You should keep the fish in the basket," Nov suggested, as if this was just another, casual conversation between them, one amongst hundreds, "so your hands don't get greasy from the paper."

Then he offered an arm to the Initiate, his other laden with bottle, mat, and the few candles that had survived bundled in his blanket.

Nov offered a faint grin he only half felt. "I'll walk you back to your room."

[Keene Ward]

Noven's praise was confusing at worst and slightly warming at best. Keene had been raised to distrust words when they had anything to do with his own abilities, but the manner in which Noven spoke made them difficult to process. He truly meant what he said, even if the actual statements were incorrect, and Keene could only blink back blankly. The kiss, while continuing the pattern of bafflement, was more understandable, and Keene quietly drew in a quick breath in response to the sudden burst of the strange duplicitous pain that came with Noven's touch. His hand lingered where Noven had held it even after the man had moved to stick his head out from within the room. Turning to watch him, Keene's eyes traced the suggestive lines that were bathed in the flickering shadows cast by the final candle. While he preferred to see Noven's face - his eyes especially - Keene found that the back half of him wasn't far behind when it came to preferences. Any bit of Noven at all was preferable to just about everything, and the more rational lines of thought that had been steadily growing as the time passed more and more into the morning reminded him that soon, that preference would have little meaning beyond a heated memory.

Forcing himself to tear his eyes away from Noven as his head flicked back and fourth to check the hall, Keene lit a few more candles with a twitch of his fingers, res slipping from the tips of them to settle onto the wicks and shiver into a pale blue flame to bathe the room in a cooler, more substantial light. He still didn't quite have the knack of the element, only able to do minor things with it for the time being, and it left his heart beating a bit faster every time. Though, as Noven returned with a grin on his face and clothes in hand, Keene wasn't sure if it was the magic alone that toyed with the pace of his pulse. With the more steady light, it was easy to sort through the belongings, and soon Noven had his undergarments situated and his pants around his ankles.

Keene hesitated for a half chime, watching him. He didn't want to go, and in all honesty he didn't care whether they were clothed or not. The finality of the act of dressing, however, gave him pause. He considered refusing, remaining stark in comparison to the quickly disappearing flesh that Noven steadily covered, but it passed as he joined him. There was no point in attempting to delay the inevitable. They both knew they couldn't simply hide from the world in the pleasure of each other's company, away from time. Theirs was limited, and they had spent what they could together. It was simply the way things were, and while Keene felt his heart tighten some in a quiet protest, he consigned himself to the simple nature of their situation. However much he wanted Noven to stay, he knew there was a life for each of them that did not involve the other, as it had been before they'd met. Like two storm fronts converging at a single point for a flurried maelstrom before traveling their separate ways, so two we he and Noven committed to the paths they walked, however lonely those paths might be.

The suggestion - or perhaps subtle command was more appropriate - that Keene take the fish was acceptable, though only under the caveat that Noven take the wine. The promise, however, was taken quite seriously, whether Noven intended for it or not. Keene nodded as he took the basket in hand, his eyes a muted reflection of Noven's own melancholy. Neither wanted to part, but both had to. It was a strange turn of events from days before when duty had been exchanged for desire. It seemed they had come full circle, and Keene found it both appropriate and undeniably bitter. At Noven's gesture, however, Keene only stared at the arm with a slight hint of confusion before rising to meet Noven's gaze as he informed him he'd be walking him back. Unsure what to do, Keene offered his own arm as he replied with a soft, steady, "I would like that." Before passing by and out into the hallway. When it came to social gestures, Keene rarely employed the tactic of imitation. Noven was, more or less, a permanent exception to just about everything. While he didn't understand what Noven had wanted, Keene had returned the act in like for lack of any better response.

As he stood out in the hall waiting for Noven to join him, Keene gazed down towards the stairwell, his blank stare drifting with at a hint of a dream beyond what he saw. When the footsteps sounded to inform him that Noven had taken his place beside him, Keene turned back to face him, his lips in a slight frown. "Noven," He said the name carefully, as it if were precious information he could not afford to forget - and in a way, it was. His grey-green gaze held steady, not an ounce of mirth playing in the limpid, placid pools. "I said I was drawn to you, that 'like' was too weak a word." There was a pause and Keene drew a steady breath, natural, but almost ominous in its placement. "I believe I love you." The words were spoken in the same factual, soft tone that Keene always employed, but there was a slight strain to them, the only perceived display of the struggle within his mind as he wrestled with the concept. "I don't really know what that means, only that I can't think of another word for what I... feel."

He shook his head, his frown steady but slight. "When you touch me, my heart feels like it's going to burst." Keene let his eyes slip from Noven's face for a moment as he took a step closer, almost hesitant in his motions, to trace for the millionth time the curve of his jaw and the strength of his neck and shoulders. "When I touch you, my mind is filled with thoughts that..." His eyes rose back up to meet with Noven's, a gentle glimmer within them that held no explicit emotion, only that it was there, somewhere, behind the stony visage. "That I have never had before." His free hand rose to gently rest itself on Noven's cheek, a flicker of pain in his eyes before it was replaced with a very soft glow of warmth and affection. "I have been selfish, foolish, and irrational these past days, and I find it odd that I don't care. You're all I've wanted. You're..." Another breath. "You're all I want." He let the hand settle on Noven's shoulder. "And I don't know what to do with that - with you."

He shook his head, a small sigh slipping from his lips, though whether it was from fatigue of the incredibly, relatively lengthy monologue or a muted frustration was anyone's guess. "We don't have much time left, but I would as a favor." His head tilted slightly, a more pensive glare seeping into the gaze he held with ease. "May I spend the night with you again? We don't have to copulate. We don't have to kiss. I just..." Keene gingerly nuzzled his nose against Noven's, the heat of their breath mingling as he paused to search for the proper words. "I just want to be near you." The speech had been brewing in him since the morning, perhaps even before that. It had not been a conscious deliberation, rather a collection of subconscious responses to events that had eventually prompted him to speak. They did not have the leisure of faineance, and while Keene had the feeling that Noven wanted it, he didn't want to take the chance that he would spend a night alone when it could have been with Noven.

Keene waited for the reply, his lips hovering a breath away from Noven's but refusing to make the final push. He wanted to spend the entire day with Noven, but there were things to do. The night, however, was the last bit of time they truly had. The act of intercourse had been both euphoric and torturous at the same time, and Keene's pants tightened at just the thought of it, but it was not the sex itself that had been the draw, the mind numbing drug. It had been Noven, and to experience him in any capacity was more than enough for Keene.

[Noven]

The Initiate's gesture of mimicry was so straightforward, so guileless in both ignorance and logic, that Nov was still staring at Keene's retreating back when he realized that his companion at completely, utterly missed the point of the offered arm altogether.

He lowered his chin to hide a grin of amusement, shaking his head once before stepping forward to join Keene in the hall. The Scar felt a sneaking suspicion that there weren't enough days in the world for him to teach his partner every social nuance that he, a Sunberthian street rat of all people, had taken for granted most of his life. Not that it likely mattered much, to either of them. One kicked people around for a living and the other spent all his time honing his abilities, by himself, on an island full of Nuits. Social proficiency was about the last thing they needed, and probably far more trouble than it was worth.

Besides, the likelihood of them meeting anywhere but here was slim. Nov knew he could always brave another naval voyage to visit the Sahovian. In fact, he was counting on it. But Keene? Just trying to imagine him walking around the Berth, with his rod-straight posture, quiet ways, and deadly, conspicuous magic...

The Scar inwardly grinned at the thought. They'd be chased out within a bell, tops.

He was just about to explain what offering one's arm usually entailed when Keene turned to face him, expression pulled in that telling frown Nov had come to know so well. He'd fondly dubbed it the "my thoughts have been brewing furiously for a long time and I'm about to unleash them on you in all of their unpredictable, Keene-like glory now" frown.

"Yeah?" came his untroubled response. Whatever it was, Nov figured, he was there to hear it out, for good or for worse. And surely it couldn't be more extreme than anything they'd done the previous night.

But then Keene spoke, dusky gaze settling on his with somber steadiness, and Noven's assumptions slipped away like water through his fingers. Even before the other man's words reached their inevitable destination, the merc knew he'd been foolish to underestimate Keene's capacity for the unexpected. It seemed that no amount of intense and occasionally bizarre experience could prepare him for the Initiate's baldfaced way of telling the truth. And not just any truth, but the kind that tended to strike the matter straight through its core.

Nov listened, heart lurching wildly every which way. He felt stunned one moment, elated the next, then bemusedly contemplative in the end as Keene laid out his feelings as though they were some kind of puzzle that could be solved. In stark contrast, the merc had never done anything of the sort. He'd always found his emotions to be fairly simple. Things that he understood on a gut level. And since they were almost consistently unpleasant, he made it a general rule not to examine them too closely. Love, hate, pain, pleasure--all reduced to no more than one or two syllables. They were simultaneously acknowledged and unacknowledged, kept somewhere in the limbo of vagueness so as not to get in the way of life's demanding costs. And how demanding indeed those costs could be, to maintain the life of a Vexer who still wished to cling to some semblance of humanity.

But it seemed, as always, that Keene had a way with getting his darker companion to do things he'd otherwise never do. And once the Initiate admitted to the effects of their time spent together, Nov found himself putting his own emotions under scrutiny. Unlike Keene, the Scar had known from the very beginning what love could make a man do. It could turn you downright stupid, convince you something foolhardy was instead a brilliant testament to your affections, render even the most dismal of days bright in the sunny hues of carefree wonder and joy. It could fill your heart with song and grow special springs beneath your feet. Carry you with cloud-white wings above the muck of daily toil.

And it could also destroy you. Set your world to a devastating blaze in less than a blink of an eye.

The mercenary ought to know. He'd been burned more times in his life than the years an average Sunbserthian lived. And yet, it was not a bitter cynicism that Noven chose to respond with. Gods knew he should have. After everything that had happened back in the Berth, it was not only his right, but his duty to prevent that awful shyke from happening, to him or anyone else, ever again.

By all the laws of practicality and survival, that was what he should have done. And would have, too, if this had been a conversation with someone else, in some other time and place. Instead, he turned rationality aside.

Noven placed his hand over the Initiate's to move it over his heart. And when he spoke, he did so without hesitance. "You can have more than just the night, Keene. You can have every morning, every evening, every chime down to its very last tick. All the time I have left to spare is yours, and yours alone."

He leaned closer so that their foreheads touched. "You're not the only one who's been feeling foolish and irrational, you know. It seems like there's nothing I wouldn't give, if you asked for it. Even if it means..." His neck and face warmed slightly at the heated memories. "...even if it means offering myself to you in a way that I've never done before. I feel like I'd cut my own heart out and serve it to you on a plate, still bloody and beating, if that was what you wanted. And if that isn't love, then I sure as petch don't know what is."

Noven surprised himself with his own words. Not because it was a near-blatant confession of his true feelings, which normally he'd rather get the shyke beaten out of him than succumb to, but because of how ludicrous and straightforward it sounded at the same time. Keene robbed him of reason. Swept his mind and heart clean of it. And in its place, the solemn-eyed Initiate filled it with something far more valuable. Something all mortals needed and rarely received that could not be bought with power, fame, or fortune.

"And you do know what to do," Nov continued, drawing back for a moment to show the Initiate he was being frank. "With the wanting, that is. With me."

His hold on Keene's hand tightened with conviction, "There is no trick, no proper way to go about it. You want to be with me, near me, and I want the same. That's all that really counts. Everything else just...gets in the way."

Ardent sincerity growing a few shades darker, he brought his cheek to rest against the cool, pale surface of Keene's and murmured, "And this whole not having to petch or kiss thing?" Nov released the Initiate's hand to move lower, gradually but purposefully, until he reached firm, narrow curves. His hand gripped the taut muscle there and pressed their lower halves against one another. Within an instant, he knew that they suffered the same conditions, and the heat and strain of their desires meeting so intimately once more sent a spark of thrill shuddering up his spine. "I don't think I have nearly enough self-control for that."

It was then, and only then, that he finally yielded to that aching temptation. Nov brought his hand back up to pull Keene's face towards his and draw him in a deep, insistent kiss. It was slower than most that had come before, and tinged with just a hint of savagery. He could feel the need returning, swifter than he'd initially thought possible, and knew the night wasn't going to come fast enough.

"Here," he panted as he broke off the kiss, all too aware of how far they were allowed to go before things got genuinely out of hand. They'd probably indulged in one too many lures already, if the areas below their belts were anything to go by. Nov fought against his baser compulsions and offered his arm a second time. "Put your hand around my arm. We'll walk like this, together. Don't ask me why, just give a go, see how it feels."

Fortunately, the sleeves of his tunic were long, and they'd rolled themselves back down in midst of being tossed around. Otherwise he would not have insisted, had he been sure such a trivial act would cause the other man pain.

They made their way down several hallways and flights of stairs, taking slow, careful steps in seemingly effortless synchrony. The speed was partly due to the possessions they carried, and partly because of both their emotional and physical states. Suffice it to say that the longer they stalled before beginning their day in earnest, in full public view of their superiors, the better.

When they finally reached Keene's quarters, parting was as difficult as it was necessary. But they were men accustomed to being bound by duty and profession; eventually, responsibility won out. For a time, anyway.

"I'll come find you," Noven promised before they separated in earnest. "It'll be the first thing I do when I get back."

His wayward grin returned. "And you, the last."

And with that, coupled with one last, greed-ridden kiss, he was off to deal with his anxious Gibbat before diving into another round of preparations. The ship ride home was just one of a dozen torments he dreaded in the days to come, but he would try his best not to dwell on the inevitable. It was going to happen no matter how poorly his mood soured. But his time with Keene and the anticipation of it eclipsed all other preoccupations, and he would not taint what precious few bells they had together with fruitless dejection.

Besides, he had something of a surprise in mind. And it required both focus and a bit of resourcefulness to execute successfully.

[Keene Ward]

Noven's reply sent a soft shiver through his body as the warm, calloused hand closed over his own to shift it to the steady heat and beat of the other man's heart. The words were soft but confident, carrying with them the solidarity of conviction to further illustrate Noven's point. A very small part of Keene found itself disappointed; had Noven explained there were no more nights nor mornings to be had in the place of duty, Keene would have been able to accept that. He would have been able to press on until the ship disappeared over the horizon, and his life returned to the easy emptiness it had been before. The rest of him, however, floated on the low rumble of Noven's voice. He wanted all those things: the mornings, the evenings, the ticks and chimes.

He drew a quick breath as their heads touched, his wince melting into a quiet sigh as their lips brushed. Noven's admission of being in a similar decisional dilemma came as a surprise to the pale initiate, though it only presented itself in a slight glimmer in the stoic green-grey gaze that held the dark amber glow of the man to whom he'd just confessed feelings he'd never thought he'd experience in several lifetimes. He'd merely assumed that the manner in which Noven acted was the way he always did. They'd known each other for a short period of time, in fact, the more Keene thought on it, the more ridiculous their situation seemed. The manner in which Noven's own flushed in embarrassment in the memories of their nights together sent shivers down Keene's spine, yet he had known Noven a shorter amount of time than almost anyone he'd ever spoken regularly to. Among that small number, he had never felt the way he did with the dark, wild man before him; and the concern that he'd held on to in his fastidious rationality slipped away, though not quite so much that he didn't listen closely to what was said.

His fingers pressed into the fabric warmed by the skin beneath as his cool voice drifted over the warmth of his partner's. "Keep your heart, Noven." A gentle, drifting brush of the lips passed between them before Keene, shook his head. "If love demanded you die for me, then hate me." Keene's hand pressed into Noven's chest, fingers loosely gripping the fabric of Noven's shirt. "I don't know what love is supposed to be, but if it is that, I don't want it." He'd never thought love to be something quite as malignant as Noven made it seem, though he supposed the concept had never been held all that highly in its previous understandings. Whether what they held was love, affection, friendship, kinship, or any other description of bond, Keene didn't care for the name, only for the connection itself. The thought of Noven taking his own life at Keene's behest was repulsive, but there was nothing more for him to say. He saw a slight change in Noven's gaze as the man continued, and he fell back into silence to allow him his words uninterrupted once more.

Keene let Noven move him as he would, the loss of control sending his heart into a rapid flurry, skin crawling with the sharp, needling pain as their fingers interwove, yet still the feeling of Noven's touch had yet to fail to be eclipsed by the indescribable pleasure than came with it. Noven's solution to Keene's problem was painfully simple, but it was an accurate representation of what he realized was a mutual struggle. The straightforward manner in which it was presented, however, made it seem much more manageable than how Keene had imagined it. He found he agreed - something he seemed to do quite often around the impossible man before him. Keene knew Noven to be far more experienced in the realms of human relations, whether love or something a bit more base they all seemed relatively similar. The reassurance that his actions had been acceptable enough sent an involuntary wave of warmth through his body, conflicting with the tenseness of his muscles as they struggled beneath the rising heat of his own desire and the conflicting pain and pleasure of Noven's touch.

Everything else just gets in the way.

The warm press of Noven's cheek against his own abruptly put a halt on any musings Keene had partaken of, sending his breath into a hitch as he felt the heat of Noven's gentle whisper drift over the slight chill of his ear. He felt every, tantalizing movement of the hand as it sank its way down his body, the barrier of cloth leaving only the aching longing for the sensation of fingers to press into his skin in the familiar and breathtaking search - though the ache was mixed with a quiet relief that, while muted, only the pleasure was felt. As their hips joined, Keene drew in a sharp breath, the mutual state of their frustrations intimately shared between the two of them. It was still uncomfortable, perhaps more pain than pleasure, but everything that Noven was - his scent, his heat, his words - could not be ignored.

When the kiss came, it was like a winter storm. Clouds that had been brewing dark and heavy finally gave way to the biting chill of the rain, thunder booming in the distance as Noven pulled him away from thought, from worry, and into the numbing deluge. His tongue felt as though it were being raked over coals, lips as though they were splitting, yet no pain could match the searching desire that Keene felt rise up from within him as it always did. He returned the storm with the steady rise of the ocean's waves, swelling to a crest to crash back down into a quiet placidity before gathering once more. Keene didn't want to stop, not at the behest of his body nor mind, but when Noven broke away Keene did not follow him. His eyes, however, still held a few sparks that were better reflected by the uncomfortable state of his lower half.

At the command, Keene silently obliged, wrapping his arm around Noven's to rest his hand over the familiar rise of Noven's bicep. While he had been instructed not to ask questions, Keene had never intended to in the first place. He still hovered between confusion and content, unsure exactly how to proceed but finding the steady warmth and solid nature of Noven's arm to be incredibly soothing. With a quiet admission, Keene fell into step beside his companion, limpid gaze locking with its darker half, "It feels good."

Silence settled in between them, Keene's hand tightening and loosening around the basket he carried as thoughts shifted from pensive to passing. He loved Noven, or something close to it, and Noven returned the affection. It was factual, but there was a sensuality to it that he had difficulty consolidating. The lack of knowledge on what exactly "love" was made everything confusing. He wanted Noven, and Noven wanted him. That was simple enough. What he was supposed to do with those feelings when Noven wasn't around wasn't. He didn't know how to handle the intense, burning desires without the release of Noven's kiss, the gentle press of hands to his, the press and release of their bodies as one. It was something he needed to come to terms with on his own. As much as he wanted Noven, Keene was fully aware the man couldn't stay just as he could not go with him. They led separate lives with separate paths that had chanced to cross one another in passing. Fate was strange in that way, and Keene doubted it was not without meaning; still, a lesson could be learned just as easily from a single point in time as it could from a continued event. There was no indication that they might meet again, and the thought grabbed at his heart like an icy claw.

The thoughts kept him busy all the way to the door to his temporary home within the Quarters, and Noven's words brought him back to the present with their familiar baritone. He nodded, mutely accepting Noven's promise with a silent echo of his own. The joke wasn't taken as humorous, but Keene did glean the intent of the statement itself. As the torturous kiss was pulled away, Keene watched the broad shoulders bounce down the hallway before Noven disappeared into his own room, door shutting with a strange finality that Keene was certain existed only in his warped, subjective perception. He remained in front of his door for a time, eyes staring at nothing in particular as his fingers absentmindedly played with the basket in his hand. One last night was all they had left. One last night for the two of them to vent their frustrations, desires, and fears before the sea would once more separate them, coupled with the twisting paths of the understandable journeys ahead of them.

When he finally stepped back into the drab, familiar closet of his own barren room, Keene let the door shut quietly behind him. He needed to kill something.

-Later that evening-

The day had not been kind to Keene, but he had returned the favor. His body was covered in fresh bruises, and his clothes were tattered from the scratches and scrapes of the things he had thrown himself against. The Testing Grounds had proven a fertile plain for him to turn the futility of his situation into action, though that action had resulted in several close calls. The pain, however, had been a release. When claws had raked against him only to find their hosts' lives stolen away by an icy spear, Keene felt some of the pressure that seemed to press into his soul to find a brief moment of peace. So he had reveled in his injuries, though never had he allowed himself to completely slip into carelessness.

He had spent a good while cleaning his cuts, and while he was much more presentable in a fresh set of clothes, he found that he had taken things a bit too far. It hurt to just sit in the empty room that he had Noven had designated as their spot to meet, let alone anything else that the other man might want to do - that he certainly wanted to do. There was little helping his condition as it was, however. The damage had been done, and Keene had no intention of forfeiting his last night with Noven for the sake of his own stupidity.

Keene waited quietly, the chill of the room soothing against the scrapes that were mostly concealed beneath the loose linen. His linen britches were tied so that a sizable scrape on his left shin was exposed, more so to keep it clean than for the pain. His tolerance for bodily harm was high, and usually his state would have been hardly distressing; however, with the added agony of touch, Keene wasn't sure what he could expect, and not being able to foresee what might be in store for him was concerning, as he wanted every last thing imagined or not to happen in the coming bells. A small, quiet sigh of frustration escaped his lips as he leaned back, eyes staring up at the unresponsive ceiling. He supposed he wouldn't know until Noven returned.

oocLet me know if I need to change anything! I finally got around to this, and I feel like we had a plan; I think I also forgot if we did haha.

[Noven]

"I know," Noven answered with nothing less than absolute conviction, "and I still think it's worth one last try. My offer stands. Take it or leave it."

The ghastly stretch of rotting lips met his words in that snide, unamused manner Cryptly had perfected so many centuries ago. Insolent as the boy was, opportunity was not something the Nuit made a habit of passing up. Especially since the brassy Pulser possessed not one, but two assets the Dungeon Master remained more than eager to trade for. Coin, being the first. And the mark of the Goddess of Pain and Murder herself, the second.

The Nuit inwardly sighed. If only the lad wasn't so difficult to stomach. This could have all gone so much more smoothly if he was just a tad bit more reverent of Cryptly's reputation. But then again, what could one expect from a mule headed, Sunberthian dog anyway?

"That pride of yours is going to get you gutted like a pig one day, boy." The Nuit spat something dark and viscous to one side. It landed against cold, filthy stone, lost amongst the shadows. "But I'm not here to teach you basic self preservation. I'm here to make some coin, and whatever use I can find for that handy little mark of yours."

Nov glared back without so much as a flicker of change in his tone. "Pride is bluff," he responded, "and you know I'm not bluffing. Is that a yes or no, then? I haven't got all day."

Cryptly snorted. "Show me the coin, first."

There was a tick's worth of silence, man and Nuit eyeing each other with nothing short of utter disdain and distrust. But eventually, the Scar reached into his pocket to pull out a gold miza. He held it steadily before Cryptly's greedy gaze.

The Dungeon Master's decaying eyes slid from coin to mercenary. "We feelin' stingy today, laddie? This what you think such information is worth?"

One gold became two as Nov's thumb shifted over to reveal the second coin between his fingers. "You mean for information I might not even manage to pry out of that poor sod with scrambled eggs for brains. And you're wrong. I think I'm being quite generous today."

Leering ever more loathsomely, Cryptly took a sinister step forward. Noven's senses were suddenly assaulted with the scent of rot and he did his best to maintain the indifferent facade. "I think what you really mean, boy, is information that you won't ever have access to again after you and your merry lot leave this island. Because that useless vagik has been taking up space in my cells, and I've a mind to do a bit of Spring cleaning come next season, if you catch my drift."

The Scar grit his teeth, hating the Nuit for being right, and for being as despicable as he was. This was Noven's last chance to squeeze out a few more drops of truth from Carmine's old partner. He was at the very end of his rope, had been since he'd first set foot in this hell hole, and they both knew it. But, he was also rather relieved. Because the real risk he'd taken that morning had evidently remained invisible to the avaricious dungeon keeper's eyes. With scornful but muted reluctance, Nov turned over his hand and opened it, revealing ten, shining gold mizas in his palm.

Quicker than a gambler reaping his winnings, Cryptly swiped the money from his hand and pocketed them into his own purse with a satisfying series of clinks.

"Well, I believe we're finally in business. Shall we get started?"

For the next four or five bells, Noven accompanied the grisly old Nuit up and down the cells. Sometimes there was an arm to twist or nugget of truth to be beat out, but others merely caved at the sight of the Scar himself and his cursed, crimson hand. The prisoners remembered him from that day he and the Warden Initiate had walked amongst their number. The Akvatari's blood curdling screams still rang in their ears and well into their dreams. They'd heard plenty of cries before, but never ones like this.

Seeing the terror in their eyes did little to quell the revulsion rising in his throat. Nov didn't enjoy what he was doing. Not in the slightest. It made him feel vile, coercing nameless prisoners with fist and pain. But he needed to know. Had to know. And the only way to get to the man with the answers he sought was to get through Crpytly himself.

That, and he desperately needed to reset the clock. He didn't want his symptoms to mar his last night with Keene and he could already feel the telltale, shooting agony through his limbs. But better him than Keene. Gods knew the Initiate felt enough pain in his presence, and would undoubtedly endure even more once he left. A condition they would both share for who knew how many seasons to come.

Fortunately, the dungeons were bleak enough for even their mutual, future suffering to seem like a walk in the park in comparison.

Chimes melted into bells as the reign of terror went on. Eventually, Cryptly was satisfied. By then, Noven had lost track of how many bones he'd cracked and noses he'd bloodied. The Nuit had handled most of the questioning; everything else had been left up to the Scar.

When it was finally time to question the last prisoner on their list, Nov was so past being done with the place that he almost wanted to quite right then and there. But he couldn't. He had to press on.

"Why Sunberth?" he growled, raising the ragged, half-dead prisoner by the front of his shirt to prop him against a wall. "Why did she choose Sunberth?"

The captive just lolled his head to one side, drool snaking its way down his filthy chin. Frustration roiled against Nov's paper thin restraint. He'd spent too many bells in here, torturing people who could've been innocent for all he knew, to leave this wretched dungeon empty handed. Steeling his resolve, the merc unsheathed one of his Tamo's and held it before the prisoner's unseeing eyes.

"One last chance."

The drool dripped another inch lower in response.

"I'm tellin' ya," Cryptly cackled to himself as he shook his head, "it's usele--"

Nov sliced the man across one of his hands. He ignored the voices in his head begging him to stop, pleading with him not to do this. Then he covered the shallow wound with his own hand and flared his mark.

Something akin to awakening lit the captive's eyes. His mouth snapped open in a silent scream, tears streaming down his face as his entire body twitched and spasmed. The wound hadn't been deep enough to reduce the already weakened man to a blubbering heap, but it did jar some cognizance in his otherwise senseless state.

"Carmine, your partner, Scarlet Cerise whatever her name is. Why did she go to Sunberth?" Nov practically yelled at this point, unable to hold back his agitation any longer. "Why my city, of all places? Tell me!"

The prisoner gargled something. Nov bent an ear closer to listen. "Aahh, C-Carmine...so b-beautiful...s-so...dangerous..."

His brow furrowed, but the merc continued listening. There was another cough and wheeze, requiring far more effort than the living ought to employ, before his victim whispered, "F-Flames...she had t-to f-find...flames..."

And that was the last he breathed, air rushing out of his lungs with a final rattle before his chest went completely still.

--Later that evening--

Noven stood before the Initiate's door. Tired, beaten, and heart heavy enough to sink a ship. He didn't know what the prisoner had meant before he died, that momentary flicker of life regained at the last moment extinguished faster than the stub of a candle at the end of its wick. But it sounded ominous, to say the least. Carmine had a reason for choosing Sunberth. And as vague as the word "flames" could be construed, the Scar had a funny feeling its meaning wasn't of the harmless or romantic variety.

But that was another issue for another night. And there would be many, many empty, lonely nights ahead of him to fill with whatever all-consuming riddles he could think of. For now, however, he wanted nothing to do with them.

The merc took a deep breath to settle his weary nerves before raising his knuckles to rap gently against the door.

"Hey. It's me, Keene. You in there?"

[Keene Ward]

As if on cue, the rap at the door drew Keene's head back to face the wooden portal. Blinking, Keene rose up, the ache of his body protesting quietly as he padded over to open the door. Weary grey-green eyes met with equally haggard muddied amber, and without so much as a second thought, Keene slipped his arms around Noven's torso and drew him into a gentle, tired kiss. It didn't last long, but it didn't have to. While Keene was certainly not the most garrulous of those on the Island, he had found a language through which he could communicate without the necessity of words. The pain of their lips' touch was little more than a whisper as Keene stepped backwards into the room, pulling Noven with him as the door such behind them. He reveled in the contact, in the warmth of Noven's tongue and mouth, in the familiar tastes and scents, and when he broke away, his eyes burned a fair bit brighter in spite of everything.

He had wanted to see Noven, to spend time with him - the last night they had together. What he had not expected, however - and it seemed to be a recurring revelation - was how beautiful Noven was. It wasn't a beauty of appearance - though the dark, muscular physique and smoldering gaze were certainly more than enough to set Keene's heart a few beats faster - so much as it was the embodiment of what he imagined the abstract concept to be, or as close to it as one could manage. Noven was an enigma, an unsolvable puzzle who's pieces Keene preferred to stare down at and admire in their singularity than to try to make sense of what they might be as a larger whole. And those pieces all stood before him, gently illuminated by the few candles Keene had gathered to light the room. His voice sounded slightly heavier than usual, but it still carried itself in its soft reservations, slightly breathless from the breaking of the kiss. "You look troubled."

Social etiquette dictated that compliments were supposed to be given to friends, and Keene's grasp of compliments extended to about the point of verbal observations. His eyes slid over Noven's body, noting the posture and settling back on Noven's eyes. They were tired, similar in appearance to how Keene imagined he looked as well. The day had not been kind to either of them, it seemed, and while the night had yet to settle in, it held no promise of soothing repose.

The room held two cots with the blanket from before, washed and neatly spread over the beds that took up about three quarters of the room. The candles were placed in the three corners of the room that was not occupied by the bed, with another on the little stand and basin. Keene had not brought any food or wine, having little way of procuring either and far more interested in Noven himself than any amenity. Though, as he looked around the room, Keene wondered if some food would have served well. Eating often helped with fatigue.

Looking back at Noven, Keene pressed a hand to the man's face, thumb running the gentle divot of Noven's upper cheek as his gaze took on a slightly more concerned flicker in the candle's light. "Can I do anything for you?" While relatively void of emotion, the words he spoke were almost never said in earnest in which he felt them then. He wanted to see Noven smile, for whatever reason, and if there was something he could to do achieve that, he had no qualms with whatever it might be. The sting of his fingers as they carefully cradled Noven's cheek reminded him that it would certainly be a trial if it were anything more physical, but Keene pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the way Noven's skin felt beneath the cool touch of his left hand rather than the blaring reminder that one of his fingers had been jammed only bells before.