Brandon Blackwing's Day Off

by **Zhol** on March 18th, 2015, 7:29 pm

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Girlfriend? Is that what she was? All she was?

True, it had been a struggle trying to determine what word best designed them: in, Endrykas there was too much emphasis on betrothal and marriage, too specific to apply to their circumstances; and in Wind Reach they had no concept of either, with romantic unions and liaisons too temporary and fleeting for Inarta terms to ever apply to the enduring sentiment that he and Khara had. Now girlfriend? It was so small, so insignificant, so insubstantial. Yes, Khara was a girl, and yes she was a friend; and yes, she was everything that the word may normally have meant; but she was so much more, and it felt as if there simply was not an adjective in any language that did the two of them justice.

You'll just have to hurry up and marry her then, his mind nudged. He forced that thought violently aside.

Brandon's suggestion received a similarly earnest rejection. "We are not going to see Khara," he said adamantly, but the illusion that he was somehow in control of this situation was quickly shattered as Brandon began to leave. This was exactly why Zhol hated bats, and moths, and anything like them: they moved too much, constantly in a state of unpredictable motion, fluttering back and forth, here and there, with no easy way to understand or predict their intentions, no way of knowing where they would be going next. It left him rattled, and on edge; they might have been almost or even entirely harmless, and yet because their actions could not be comprehended by anything with even an ounce of sanity to them, they were unpredictable and thus worrysome.

He quickly gathered up his sword belt, slid his sword home and fumbled the ensemble around his waist, scampering quickly to catch up with the escaping bat. He quickened his pace, drawing alongside, but thought better of trying to cut in front and detain him: one too close for comfort encounter with a naked Kelvic was more than enough for one day. That said, he didn't particularly want Khara to have that kind of close encounter either. It wasn't that he expected Khara to be traumatised by it; she was an Inarta, and they very much didn't share his discomfort with public nudity. It wasn't that he felt particularly intimidated by the thought of Khara seeing Brandon either; she'd seen him as well, and, well... between a bat and a horse, there was hardly a contest in that regard.

No, it was something else; something about Brandon, something about his attitude, something about this theft of Zhol's attention and time to satisfy the bat's own boredom. True, it sounded as if he had felt quite imprisoned, and Zhol sympathised: he often felt trapped and claustrophobic in the tunnels of the city rather than the rolling grasslands of where he'd been born, and couldn't imagine what it must be like being trapped in a cage, trapped as a tiny animal form... or was it the other way around? Was Brandon a man who was sometimes a bat, or a bat who was sometimes a man? Either way, there was sympathy there, but that sympathy had limits: and any encroachment on his beloved Khara was a very long way past them.

He placed a hand on Brandon's shoulder, not threatening, but still firmly. "First, we find you some clothes, and then I'm taking you back to Drusilla." The muscles in his jaw bunched. "Okay, you're bored. You want to explore the city. I remember what it's like to be new here; I'll show you everything you need to know to find your way around." He meant it too, that much was clear; frustrating as the bat had been to him thus far, Zhol wasn't the sort of person to allow a person in need to walk away without lending a little aid.

"But not today. I have work, and you have my sister to get back to, who is going to be distraught if she comes back and finds you gone. And I assure you -"

The edge from earlier crept back into his voice. "You can knock me down and screw with me as much as you like, but if you do anything to hurt or upset anyone I care about, if you so much as cause them to shed even a single tear, I will cremate your tiny wings and toss your fluffy little bat body into the closest pool of lava I can find."

by **Brandon Blackwing** on March 19th, 2015, 6:33 pm

Even though he had said with a stubborn tone of voice they wouldn’t go see Khara, Zhol did catch up with him nicely, walking alongside for a bit, then placing a hand on his shoulder –a firm grip- and started speaking. It weren’t the words he’d been expecting, nor the ones he wanted to hear. Clothes and Drusilla… well, true, he had to go back before she was done working, but why now? And why did he need clothes first? The men walked around with their chest bare, women weren’t too shy about exposing some skin either, so why couldn’t he walk around in the nude?

And then they came, the line he’d wanted to hear. He’d found a guide, it was time to go on an adventure in the city of eagles! “Great!” the bat nodded approvingly, “so where are we going fir-?” What? Not today? Oh, this guy just might have been the source of his boredom, he radiated boredom. Work came first, ha! “Oh, yes, I forgot, you were ‘working’,” the bat spoke with the necessary amount of sarcasm, “Does that include loafing around, walking in circles, talking to horses and daydreaming while leaning against a pillar? ‘Cause I haven’t seen you working for a chime yet! ” Brief as his visit had been, he’d circled around long enough to actually see the horse trainer do all those things.

More threats, along with expectations that were impossible for just about anyone to uphold. It was annoying, all those hissed words, that gleam in his eyes and that general way too serious attitude. He’d hit home with one thing though; Brandon didn’t quite want his arms chopped off, he’d rather be pushed in the lava as a whole instead of in pieces. He sighed. “You know that you’re asking for the impossible, right?” The kelvic quickened his pace just a little bit and positioned himself in front of Zhol, stopping his movement and staring the horse boy in the eye. “What do you expect me to do? Sit around in that cage all day, keeping my mouth shut and come out for huggles and being petted? Well, let me tell you something,” he stabbed Zhol’s chest with his finger upon speaking the word ‘you’, “it’s not going to happen.”

“First of all, I’m not a pet. Second, who are you to demand such a thing from me?! Who the petching hell do you think you are anyway? Yahal himself? I have never heard of anyone not hurting people, whether they were loved ones or not. Don’t you think you’ve caused the people you care about great pain yourself?! Your very existence is enough to hurt people, just by being around you hurt people! Don’t pretend it’s not true, we both know it is! I may not have lived long, but I’m not blind like you people are! Don’t make such demands if you can’t even fulfill them yourself. Go find yourself a pool of lava and jump right in, you piece of hypocrite shyke!”

With those words hanging in the air, Brandon turned around once more, and marched away, not caring if he was alone or not. For all he was concerned Zhol could go back to ‘work’, he’d go explore the city on his own, he didn’t need anyone. Still, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it why those words had pissed him off that much, all of a sudden he’d been shouting, all worked up and angry. Was it because of the naivety those words held, maybe because of he hadn’t been able to protect Enggy from Kriegsfelt’s grasp himself. Or perhaps just because he’d had enough of those threats on his first day outside. He didn’t know and nor did he care, it mattered not, what was done was done. And Kriegsfelt was dead. No more limits to his freedom, he’d hurt whoever he wanted and he’d do whatever he felt like doing. He didn’t need approval! Yes, that was it, that’s what that threat had been; an attempt to limit his freedom once more. Good try, but no thank you; this bat wasn’t going to lend an ear to demands anymore. He was free and he would stay that way forever.

Credit goes to Nyxie Nadira Draer

by **Zhol** on March 20th, 2015, 2:58 am

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"Oh, I'm not Yahal."

There was a moment, when you burned yourself: an eerie calm before the rage set in, a tingling void of absent feeling filled only with the realisation of what had happened and what was in store, before the body understood what was happening and the pain began. That was what Zhol felt right now: that pain too intense to comprehend as Brandon's words seared into his emotions.

You’ve caused the people you care about great pain.

Truer words had never been spoken. The internal berating of Zhol's mind had never even managed to be so scathing, so astute, so ruthlessly cutting with it's words. He had hurt, betrayed, endangered, failed, and disappointed an entire life of people: an entire family so ashamed of him he had fled half way across the world to avoid the looks of scorn in their eyes. He had turned his home, his world, his family to ashes through his naive lack of control.

Your very existence is enough to hurt people.

He reached into himself, searching for the imagined candle with it's flickering flame, the notion he used to meditate and focus his mind; but the candle had fallen, kicked over by Brandon's reckless words. Flames licked up every surface of his thoughts, the crackling blaze dredging up memories of the inferno he'd found himself within when his reimancy had flared beyond his fledgeling ability to control, and had consumed the pavilion his family called home.

Just by being around you hurt people.

His father's voice this time, adding additional weight to those words. It hadn't been his intention; but it had been his fault. He shouldn't have tried. He should have known he would fail, the same way that he had at everything else. Brandon couldn't have known, surely; and yet he'd known instantly the kind of past that Zhol had; known exactly what open wounds to strike for. Clearly, his disgrace was written across his face, impossible to remove, like a scar.

His fist clenched, so tight that it shook. The windmark patterns that his res usually drew beneath his skin extended downwards, wrapping around his hand like brambles. His eyes locked on the bat, burning with barely contained rage. He stalked into motion, his strides slow; his fingertips trailed along the wall beside him, a residue of res left behind by his touch igniting into flame behind him as it reached the limits of his range. A mirthless expression, almost like a smile but not jovial in the least, curled at his lips.

"I'm Ivak, and you are really starting to piss me off."

His volume increased, his voice countering Brandon's self-righteous tone with a moral certainty of his own. "Who the petch do you think you are? This is my city. This is my home. You burst into my place of work, impose yourself uninvited into my day, for what? Some self-entitled delusion that it's up to me, or anyone else in this city to entertain you? To stave off your boredom?"

He shook his head, advancing closer still to the delinquent kelvic. "You don't know how things work here, so let me educate you. In Wind Reach, no one cares how self-important you are: all anyone cares about is how useful your skills are to the city. Me? This city may be obsessed with birds, but it's horses who do all of the literal heavy lifting. My skills are rare, and useful - it's a thankless job, but if it weren't done, the city would be worse off. It looks easy because I'm good at it. Besides, what the petch are you expecting to be done by a horse Avora at this time of day, at this time of year? Oh wait -" He let out a scoff of laughter. "- that's right, you don't expect anything because you don't know shyke."

His teeth clenched hard together, nostrils flaring. "Khara spends her days roaming the hostile wilderness searching for game, to ensure that everyone in his mountain can eat. For that vital role she doesn't have a fraction of the respect she deserves; she has been used, abused, berated, and broken more times than any soul should have to deserve, let alone one as unfailingly pure as hers. You are not worth her time; she is too good for you and this selfish, childish bullshyke attitude of yours. And Drusilla? She has gone through so much darkness, has been mistreated, and abandoned, and ignored, and yet she does nothing but outpour affection and kindness; something that you are arrogantly and callously abusing."

The anger faded just a little, like a roaring fire dying down into a crackling blaze in the hearth of his chest. He wanted to put a fist through Brandon's smug face, or at the very least to sear his mouth shut and spare himself any more self-serving, self-phallating arrogance; but he couldn't muster the rage. His fingers fell away from the wall, his paces shifting subtly, not advancing towards him but rather heading past him, the bat no longer worth his interest.

"You're not a pet," he conceded. "You're a petching asshole, and I am done with you."

by **Brandon Blackwing** on March 20th, 2015, 5:48 pm

As he strode away proudly, teeth clenched and brow scowling, his sensitive ears picked up the sound of footsteps and smoldering flames. Zhol’s voice stopped the bat right in his tracks, once more turning towards the young man, who claimed to be Ivak. Brandon had to admit that the line went well with the theatrical approach; flames on the walls, rage burning behind his eyes… Yes, the image did force the bat to take half a step back, for that instant he was reminded of Sal Mander. Not because of the fire, but the rage. However, the intimidation only lasted for a split-tick, and Brandon’s mind gave him an “I told you so” reaction. Indeed, unstable. His outburst was half-expected.

Of course, Zhol’s fury and shouting only served to anger the bat even more, a vicious circle that was hard to break. “I am starting to piss you off?! HA!” Oh-ho it seems he’d hit a nerve, and he’d hit it hard. “I am exactly who I think I am!” Brandon Blackwing. Incognito; the phantom thief who terrorized Lhavit for over two seasons! His eyes narrowed and both his fists tightened themselves as he stared Zhol dead in the eye, his glance just as deadly and murderous as the horse-boy’s was. “Exactly!” If he so desired, anyone was his entertainment, and they would entertain him too, whether they liked it or not.

During the next part he just kept his mouth shut, his eyebrows almost touching and some tiny muscles at the corner of his mouth twitching. Useful skills? This again. Wind Reach and its obsession with usefulness, putting people in boxes, ranking them from useless to extremely important, a whole load of bullshyke. “What, so you’re Mr. Important now?” He let out a bark of laughter himself, not caring about Zhol’s declaration of Brandon’s ignorance. Indeed, he didn’t know a thing about Wind Reach, nor did he know anything about horses. In both Kalinor and Lhavit there weren’t any, and even if there would had been, they’d have been useless.

And just like that his temper died a quick death, Zhol’s words had lost their infuriating magic, or Brandon had regained control over his emotions. Instead of burning anger there now was a chilly form of it; he wouldn’t shout or scream but speak flatly, with an edge in his voice that could be described as dangerous. Was he still angry? Yes, and the rage was still there too, but on the background, pushed away so he could think relatively clearly. Zhol was getting closer, he was furious, he’d been using reimancy. If he dares to give me just as much as one burn, I’ll break all his fingers, and dislocate both his wrist and shoulders. To be honest, Brandon felt like an icicle; calm, detached and cold. Except for his eyes, his face was expressionless.

So, he was now heartlessly abusing Dru’s hospitality and affection? Oh, things only got better and better! But it didn’t send Brandon back into his burning state, instead he just stared and spoke just as calm as a layer of ice of a frosted over river, ice that could crack under the weight of the fool trying to walk on it any tick. “For the record, I am not abusing anything. Nor am I doing so callously.” His tone of voice strongly disagreed though. “Dru insisted I’d stay for a while longer, as for affection and kindness, what makes you think I don’t return the favor?” He did realize that line could be interpreted in multiple ways, but he didn’t care. “And if she is willing to give, why should I not accept? Why shouldn’t I take it?” Sure, he took what people gave him, but even if they weren’t willing to give him anything, he took it anyway. It didn’t bother him one bit, because it wasn’t in his nature to worry about it.

“You’re not the first to call me that, nor will you be the last,” the bat spoke as Zhol passed him, “and let me compliment you; you’re a clever one. It’s indeed best you’d run away.” Perhaps not the best thing to say, and this was by far the worst first meeting with Dru’s brother he could have accomplished. That he knew he and Zhol would cross paths many times in the future, should he stick around –and he would- didn’t make things better, at all. If anything, it just made this encounter seem worse. Nope, Dru wouldn’t be too pleased if she found out about this…

A voice he’d heard before launched speech into both Zhol’s and Brandon’s general direction. “What’s going on here?” she spoke gingerly, probably feeling as if she was walking on eggshells. “I could hear you screaming all the way from the riding arena, Zhol, what’s the matter?” Well, of course he’d be ignored, there was no way any random co-worker would be worried about the random naked dude rather than her colleague.

Credit goes to Nyxie Nadira Draer

by **Zhol** on March 21st, 2015, 9:34 pm

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Zhol wasn't sure if Kami's timing was unfortunate or impeccable. It was certainly enough to rob him of the urge to wheel around on his heel and punch Brandon squarely in the jaw for his continued smugness; as someone who had never really learned how to properly throw a punch, with the urge to strike someone who quite clearly had, it was probably for the best that they were interrupted before their encounter had the opportunity to come to blows.

Her question had more of an impact than had been intended. What was going on here? Why was he so worked up, so easily agitated by this frustrating little naked man? Why were his words as ruthlessly effective as his kicks, when it came to stomping upon every raw nerve that Zhol had? He wasn't like this, and the tiredness tugging at the edges of his vision and mind were no excuse. He was supposed to be understanding, thoughtful, helpful, empathetic - that was the good that Khara always saw in him. This anger that people like Brandon and Azira always seemed to manage to bring out? This wasn't who he was; or at least, he wasn't who he wanted to be.

"This Dek has lost his way -" Zhol explained, shooting Brandon a look that warned him to stay silent and play along. "- and his clothes," he added as an afterthought. He tried his best to sound positive; to sound the way that Kami would expect him to. "He's a little lost and confused; I'm going to find him something to wear, and then help him get back to where he's supposed to be."

Kami didn't seem entirely convinced, but her expression softened a little. It certainly seemed like a Zhol thing to do; while the horse buy understood the logic behind the castes, he hated the culture of supremacy, judgement, and abuse that the Inarta had constructed around them. In truth, his work at the stables was so leisurely because the tougher and more unpleasant duties were carried out by lower castes. There were Chiet on hand to groom the horses; Dek on hand to muck out the stalls and do the heavy lifting. Zhol did both, because he couldn't bring himself to believe he was too good for such tasks. Back in Endrykas, he'd been without windmarks; he'd been the lowest of the low, and caring for horses was the only thing that he'd been any good for. Here in Wind Reach, the rarity of his mundane skill made him somewhat remarkable; and while he was glad of the respect, he sympathised with the lower castes and their lack of it. Khara was far more valuable to the city than he was, and risked far more than he every single day; but she was a Chiet and he was an Avora. The same story was true of almost everyone he know. Zhol liked the Chiet and Dek for the most part; and he made a point not to treat them as anything less than equal, not unless their specific individual actions did something to lower their status in his eyes.

It was no surprise then that Zhol would put himself out to try and help shield a lower caste from the harshness of higher ones; but such actions often deflected that ire onto himself. He glanced back down the tunnel a little nervously, before his gaze strayed back to Kami. "I don't want to get in trouble, though. Could you cover for me? Say that I went on an errand, or something?" He shot her a pleading look. "I know I shouldn't. I just don't want this poor guy winding up on the wrong side of an angry Avora."

The best part of Zhol's lie was that it wasn't one; he really did want to prevent Brandon agitating the fury of an Avora - it was just that he had a specific Avora, Drusilla, in mind; and it was more for her benefit than Brandon's that he wanted the bat back where he belongs.

"Be quick," Kami said with a sigh, shaking her head. She was far more culturally invested in the Inarta ways than Zhol was; but like Khara, and many others, she had struggled at a Yasi and been faced with the possibility of being deemed too useless to be anything but a Dek. She wasn't thrilled about aiding Zhol in disrespecting the rules and ways of Wind Reach; but couldn't help hoping that his efforts would be successful, and remain secret. "Try the laundry at the Tisuma Baths," she suggested. "I'm sure you'll be able to get your hands on a spare lontev there."

Zhol's smile was more one of relief than gratitude, though both sentiments were conveyed strongly. "Good idea," he agreed, a grateful touch on Kami's arm and an unspoken thank you given before he turned his attention back to Brandon.

"Come on," he muttered; fortunately, the path from the stables to the baths was one he walked almost daily. He silently hoped that their expedition would succeed; but even if it didn't, the Tisuma Baths were full of naked women. Hopefully that would be non-boring enough to calm Brandon down, at least for a little while. Not that he expressed that sentiment aloud, of course. "Lets get you dressed."

by **Brandon Blackwing** on March 22nd, 2015, 2:01 pm

The female voice brought an interlude that allowed Zhol some time to think, or so it appeared. Brandon on the other hand just stood there coolly, his eyes still harsh and fixated on the horse trainer, while his ears listened to the woman. It was quite remarkable to see Zhol so visibly change; he became less tense, and his features turned more tired and sympathetic than before. His words too were no longer harsh or loud, but soft and gentler. Nevertheless, Brandon couldn’t help but frown at those words and the stare he received. Lost and confused? The former was up for discussion –he had no idea how to get back to Dru’s aeries, truth to be told- but the latter was absolutely wrong.

However, even Brandon knew it might be best to play along, even though he didn’t actually do anything. He didn’t even had to act, the bat was aware he might strike a rather wild figure with his unruly hair, his scar and his general nakedness, not to mention the fact that he still was a little tense, the adrenaline not having left his body just yet. But it hardly mattered, the woman bought Zhol’s lie and even made a suggestion of where to go.

Once both the bat and the human were out of her hearing range, Brandon shook his head slightly, following Zhol through the warrens. “I can’t believe that actually worked. You must be either an extraordinary liar or she’s just too gullible for her own good.” He scratched his head absentmindedly, thinking for a bit. “Say, do you have that a lot? You know, the mood swings?” Even he couldn’t discern whether it was a true question or if he was just continuing to mock the man; probably both. Either way, he just continued to follow Zhol to the baths, his feet silently touching down on the stone floor as he walked in the horse-boy’s wake.

After a while the duo reached the steamy place that was called the Tisuma Baths, and there stopped Brandon’s silent compliance. Instead of just following Zhol or waiting when the man talked to one of the attendants in the first room, the thief continued his silent walk and headed into the next room, where he was greeted by the sight of a multitude of baths and red-headed people. Naked people, both male and female, young and old. Of course, Brandon had no interest in taking a bath seeing as he found Dru had soaked him a couple times too many in the past seventeen days, but the sheer amount and difference in the baths was actually fascinating. There was one with lots and lots of filth and grime swirling around, a couple people scraping at the dirt clinging to their backs with a metal scraper. There was a bath that smelled like the sea, and there was one that steamed and turned the skin of people entering a bright red.

None of the bathing citizens of Wind Reach seemed too uncomfortable with his entrance, though he did get some curious glances. Brandon too wasn’t all that interested in the people either. Male or female, he’d seen them naked before and in his opinion nudity wasn’t anything special and nothing to get excited about. It was nothing new and naked bodies were just bodies. At least these people seemed to understand that, in Lhavit he’d been called names and he’d been assaulted by flying bars of soap and wooden buckets for accidently entering the women’s bath. They should have told him the bath’s weren’t mixed, and he hadn’t been the only one confused by it. There had been a female Kelvic entering the male baths not that much later, and she’d been as dumbfounded by the concept of separate baths for male and female customers as he’d been. There was no limit to human silliness.

After a while, Brandon decided to go back to the previous room, and meet up with Zhol again, though the human was nowhere to be seen. A frown rippled his brow momentarily and then he just shrugged, walked over to one of the holes in the wall, grabbed the black pants that laid there neatly folded up and stepped into it. Oddly enough the wide flowing piece of clothing was quite comfortable, loose and allowing for movement and mobility. Even though they were bird-brained bird maniacs, the Inarta knew what clothes were good to move around in, that he had to admit. Next the bat pushed his feet in the supple and soft leather boots –the sole was pleasantly thick though- and walked a few paces, satisfied with his newly acquired items. These boots were supple enough to sneak around in, but the sole was thick enough it wouldn’t be pierced by any kind of sharp rocks. Then the Kelvic, still having no clue where Zhol had gone, decided to go outside and wait for him there, leaning against the nearest wall, crossing his arms.

Credit goes to Nyxie Nadira Draer

by **Zhol** on March 22nd, 2015, 5:46 pm

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Zhol wasn't particularly thrilled about being described as a proficient liar, but he supposed it was true - hiding his feelings from Khara for all that time had made him extremely skilled at moulding the truth in such a way that it wasn't quite a lie, and yet still disguised the full reality of what was going on. It didn't sit right with him; but he couldn't fault the bat for drawing such a conclusion.

The question, though? Zhol wasn't sure if the question was intended as a veiled insult or was genuine, though given what he'd learned about Brandon so far, a bit of both seemed like a pretty reasonable guess - the bat didn't seem like the sort of person who was smart enough to let something be; he seemed like the sort who would wander up and poke a sleeping tiger in the face, and then act like the world was cruel and unfair when the tiger leapt up and mauled his face off. He let his mind linger on that pleasing visual for a moment before he answered.

"Not usually," he admitted, and it was true enough. Zhol's anger was almost always righteous, almost always in the face of some perceived injustice, and almost always to protect someone else. He cared too little for himself to waste ire and anger on his own account - or at least, that was usually the case. There were exceptions though: people like Brandon, or Azira, who had an uncanny ability to get beneath his skin and irritate him into a rage. "I just have a low tolerance for selfishness, arrogance, and idiocy, I suppose."

Despite the negativeness of the words, Zhol's tone remained calm and restrained. It was the kind of insult he would have launched at his sister, and that forced his mind to pause and contemplate it's discomfort at that reaction. Dinah knew exactly how to set him off, just like Brandon and Azira did; but she also knew how to diffuse him in an instant, and cared enough to do so. Azira did not; and Brandon seemed like that type as well, content to let him seethe in discomfort just for the hell of it. Yet another reduction in his already low opinion of the kelvic. Surely, even Drusilla, with her nearly infinite tolerance, would not be able to excuse the bat and his behaviour?

Gods be thanked though, Brandon actually seemed content to behave. He waited dutifully, wordlessly when Zhol went in search of one of the attendants. She was quite possibly the most stubborn, disinterested woman that Zhol had ever encountered; also the most wrinkled and withered. He had seen the elderly before, of course, but it really was something of a spectacle when one of the tiny women of Wind Reach attained the sort of advanced years where they began to shrink smaller still.

She had - grudgingly - agreed to take him down to the laundry themselves, to see if there were any surplus clothes appropriate for a dek laying around unclaimed. Because everyone in Wind Reach dressed so identically, no one really cared all that much if the clothes returned to them were exactly theirs - often the baths would replace them with matching articles of matching size, and the wearer would be none the wiser. Special items, custom clothes and such things, were a special exception; someone like Zhol, who habitually dressed in clothes that were unique and awkward, was notorious among the laundry staff. That was an added benefit to visiting the baths as late in the day as Zhol habitually did - it burdened the Chiet and Dek laundry workers as little as possible. It was also why it had been so important for him to acquire other clothes beyond his work gear: with no alternative clothing to switch into, he would have had to loiter around naked until his clothes were prepared, or worse he would have had to return to the commons naked, his wet clothes slung over his arm. The bat might have been perfectly content to wander through the warrens completely nude, but Zhol just didn't have Brandon's misplaced self-confidence.

The woman - who hadn't even given Zhol her name; that was how grumpy and miserable she was - had left him waiting while she wandered off to search the surplus. Apparently, as she had told him in a dreary monotone, it had been a good winter for the laundries this year - plenty of people had left clothes to be cleaned, and many had not returned to collect them. It had struck Zhol as strange but beneficial, until he'd realised that a "good winter" meant one where many citizens of Wind Reach had been claimed by the cold, leaving their laundry behind. The old lady had literally gone off in search of a dead man's clothes.

Zhol fidgeted uncomfortably at that sombre thought, his eyes flitting around the room in search of some sort of distraction. And then he saw them: the lone pair of bryda, innocently resting there, just an arm's reach away. So tempting. So inviting. He glanced around again, scanning his surroundings. This was taking too long; too long, and Brandon might wander off, in search of a way to sate his boredom. He shouldn't, but then... the city wouldn't miss them, would they? After all, he was entitled to them, wasn't he, as a citizen? He would just be claiming something that he had so far declined; a little rebalancing of resources that were technically his already...

He bit his lip; grimaced; glanced up the corridor one last time to be sure that the old lady wasn't returning... and then broke into a sprint, snatching the unattended bryda as he passed, racing out of the baths as quick as he could move. He wove through the tunnels, leapt up stairways two at a time, bounced off walls to help him take the corners faster; he didn't even stop as he reached Brandon, grabbing a hold of the kelvic's arm and dragging him into motion, not stopping until several tunnel junctions had passed; not until he was confident they were too far away to be found.

He panted heavily - fit as he was, he rarely travelled at such speeds unless he was on horseback, and his body was in a state of shock. Adrenaline flowed through him, his lungs struggling to fill themselves with air. "I got -" he struggled out between breaths. "I found -"

He stared at the floor, at Brandon's feet; at the way the bat's toes had transformed into something strangely boot-like. His eyes scanned upwards, cautiously, finding fabric instead of nothingness obscuring the kelvic's legs. A bare stomach, and a bare chest, but that was no surprise; and a smug, bemused expression.

Petch.

"Where the shyke did you get those?" he grumbled, forcing himself to stand upright.

by **Brandon Blackwing** on March 23rd, 2015, 4:27 pm

The sight of Zhol being out of breath and entirely stupefied by the bat's current state of dress was of course a very amusing image to behold. From the look of things, Brandon could make an accurate guess what the horse trainer had done, and because of that the smug look on his face was only natural. “What, these?” the bat questioned, acting innocently, lifting one leg as if to illustrate his words. “From the room with all those holes in the wall of course,” he spoke with a shrug, “there were lots of pants and boots lying around.” So far, the Kelvic found his act of innocence rather successful, however, it was hard to keep the grin of his face, so he gave up.

“Well, I can pretty much guess what kind of trouble you went through to get those,” Brandon continued, thinking back to the mad dash he'd been dragged into. Opposed to Zhol though, a bit of running for a couple chimes didn't really exhaust him at all, not a man who used to run around Lhavit all the time, scaling walls and jumping over the rooftops. “A second pair might come in handy,” he shrugged, patting Zhol on the shoulder of the arm that didn't hold the bryda while his other hand sneakily removed the object from the man's custody. Misdirection was quite popular with pickpockets, using a motion or gesture to attract the target's attention -away from the object of course- and use that instant to pick their pockets or even remove bracelets from their wrists if they were skilled enough.

Then the bat held the dark pair of bryda in front of him, letting his gaze wander over its surface for a couple ticks, then folding it back up and draping it over his forearm. “At least you did run a decent distance, so they won't immediately find you,” Brandon spoke up again, “What? I'm no fool, I can recognize an inexperienced thief when I see one. I can probably even reconstruct whatever actions you took to get it.” The Kelvic scraped his throat for a tick, while letting his black gaze take in every detail of the panting man in front of him.

“Judging from your high ethical standards,-” the bat began, one finger pointing skywards as if he was lecturing Zhol. His mind replayed the clash of heads he'd had with the man a quarter bell or so ago; the horse-boy had yelled about abusing hospitality and kindness, and had showed that he found leaving his workplace while he ought to be working a hard thing to do. Plus, he'd explicitly stated he didn't want to get in trouble; actually every action when he'd been calm had pointed in that direction. Brandon's conclusion? Zhol was some sort of goody-two-shoes. He probably hadn't stolen anything in his life up until now, and he probably felt bad about stealing the pants. “- you had a lot of trouble to actually convince yourself to take these pants. As a result, I am certain you couldn't really stay calm as you walked over trying to look normal and ordinary, nonchalantly even.” That's what Brandon had done a couple times at the Azure market when he was still new to theft, trying to appear casual while he walked past a certain stall. Then his hand would suddenly and clumsily grab whatever he'd set his sights on and either run or disappear in the crowd still trying to look calm.

“From the way you came dashing out of the bathhouse, I'm sure you started running as soon as you grabbed the fabric of this thing and then experienced some sort of adrenaline rush because you believe stealing is wrong.” Brandon crossed his arms, an eyebrow raised. “Am I right?”

Credit goes to Nyxie Nadira Draer

by **Zhol** on March 23rd, 2015, 9:31 pm

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High ethical standards.

You're damn right, a voice in Zhol's mind whispered. Brandon had made it sound like an insult, but Zhol took it as a compliment, standing a little straighter. The rest of Brandon's analysis had much the same effect. Being a terrible thief? Being morally upstanding? Being a good person? It only deepened Zhol's certainty that Brandon was some sort of morally bankrupt untrustworthy blight on Wind Reach and on it's citizens. So what if he was a good person? So what if he followed the rules, and chose to bend them gently and break them rarely? He did what was right, whereas people like Brandon did only what was most convenient and beneficial for themselves. Let him criticise all he wanted - every critique was a confirmation that Zhol was the better man.

"Actually," he countered, not defensive at all, but more as if he was correcting an error on the part of some young Yasi. "Wind Reach issues a set of clothing at no cost to every citizen. If you'd actually arrived here properly, instead of being a free-loader, you'd know that. As you can see, I do not take advantage of my free bryda, and have not for the two years I have lived here. I did not steal; I just corrected that oversight on my part. Those bryda -"

He reached over, snatching the surplus pants from Brandon. "- belong to me. You seem just fine clothing yourself, so you clearly won't be needing them."

Besides, Zhol mused, though wisely kept the thought to himself, Taking from others seems to be something of a speciality for you.

His breathing slowed, and he cautiously took his bearings. The aeries were quite some distance away - Skyinarta was a big mountain, and it could take hours of weaving around through the tunnels and avoiding the core of lava that rose it's way through to get from one side to the other. The stables had been beside the Sanikas Gates, as low and as far outside the city as one could get; and the aeries were in the higher reaches, far closer to the summit. The rest of the city lay between; the kitchens, the market place, the artisan workspaces, the enclave, and everything essential to the city spread throughout a sprawling maze of tunnels, many of them as close to the aeries as possible for the convenience of the Endals. The baths though? Most Endals had their own private baths in their aeries, and so there was no need to make them close; they were closer to the Darniva common rooms, down in Avora and Chiet territory. There was a lot of walking in store, of Zhol expected them to reach Drusilla's home before she did.

"Come on," he muttered, picking a direction and beginning to trudge off through the warrens. "We don't have enough time to be wasting it standing around."

by **Brandon Blackwing** on March 24th, 2015, 4:14 pm

“Whatever you say,” was the bat's response to the pathetic excuse the horse boy employed, to ease his mind no doubt. Whether it actually worked or not, Brandon didn't know, but he was clever enough to realize that Zhol wouldn't admit it was an excuse. It didn't matter what the man said, it would always remain a means to calm the mind to Brandon, the thief'd believe that Zhol was trying to convince himself that the pants were his and that they'd always been his, that Wind Reach had given them to him. But that didn't matter either, and the Kelvic was perfectly fine with that, shrugging and stuffing his hands in the pockets of the bryda.

“Just for the record, I was attacked by a gigantic owl that sliced up my entire back!” the bat exclaimed, turning around and pointing his thumb at the forming scar, “I couldn't have arrived properly even if I had wanted to! And I'm not to blame for Drusilla finding me and wrapping me in layer upon layer of fabric while taking me to her house. I would just have hid in a crack somewhere until I could think clearly again and then find someone to give me medical attention. Well, I can't deny that given the circumstances I was pretty fortunate.” He grinned widely while walking beside Zhol as they moved through the warrens.

“I'd like you to describe how thing went when you arrived then,” the thief continued, “Was there some guy standing at the gates with his arms full of pants doling them out to every newcomer or so?” The idea was too ridiculous to be true, and Brandon couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. “And where did you even come from in the first place -no don't tell! I'll guess it. You're not from around here; I can tell from your accent when you speak common. It's like nothing I've heard in Kalea so far.” The bat paused for a bit, thinking. “And since you claim to have some skill handling horses -which are rare here, since they can't really brave the unforgiving all that well- I assume you're from-” A frown appeared on his brow as the bat tried to remember the names on the maps he'd seen a while ago. There was a sea in the middle of a circular mass of land, but the names escaped him. Silly-something? See-furs? Eket- Ekely- Ekey- Aaarhg! Desert-land? But which had lots of horses? Drykas had, but where did those live? On a sea somewhere, but that was just about all Brandon could come up with. It didn't even make much sense either, horses didn't swim in oceans, nor could the bat imagine they'd like to be kept on a ship.

Say, weren't there knights in Silly-ass? Knights had horses, right? Maybe he came from over there? But Enggy had come from there, and her speech hadn't held the accent Zhol had, but an entirely different one. By eliminating the impossible, one could reach the truth, and that was Brandon did, reasoning and thinking while sneaking a glance in Zhol's direction every so often. The bat was pretty sure that the Benshira lived in the desert, and those people had a fairly tan skin, which the horse-boy didn't have. Then, all that remained was See-furs. “By my deduction, you hail from See-furs. Sea-furs?” It didn't sound all that right when he spoke it out loud... strange, it had sounded so good in his head... Frowns attacked his forehead as Brandon pondered over the possible pronunciations of the region, but he didn't quite trust his mind to come up with the right ones anymore.

Thinking hard made the Kelvic switch to autopilot, walking automatically, dodging and slipping past people without actually seeing where he was going. Eventually, he did bump into someone, his mind registered it, but he didn't pay it much mind. Their shoulders collided, but that was all, and Brandon passed in the same instant, his hand unconsciously slipping into the man's pocket and returning with a pouch which was swiftly tucked away in the bat's own bryda. The added weight did prove to be enough to bring Brandon back from the depths of his mind, and so was the voice of the man shouting at him in common. Upon turning his head, Brandon saw that the man was dressed just like any other Inarta, except more fancy, with colorful beads and large feathers. As an added bonus, the man appeared to be just as arrogant and cocky as the bat was, and his voice was commanding and demanding, wanting that Brandon -whom he called lots of names the subject of the insults found to be utterly untrue- to apologize for bumping into him. It was apparent that he hadn't even tried to evade the incoming bat like the other people had done, expecting others to go out of his way.

At least he hasn't noticed I accidentally picked his pocket, the bat thought, annoyed by the man's arrogant and demanding tone, Well, not that he would, I'm too good at what I do. And besides, people get too used to the feel of their wallet that they forget about it entirely and don't even notice when it is gone. Especially so when they're not wary at all. And this guy isn't wary for sure, the way he didn't even try to avoid me proves that. Meanwhile, the man was approaching, crossing the small distance of a couple steps with confident strides, still shouting and demanding Brandon to apologize. It really irritated the thief; he'd thought he had freed himself of demanding individuals, but that didn't seem to be the case. Just to torment him there had to be such annoying people here too. A challenge from the gods? Very well, bring it on! He would not budge! He refused to lend his ear to demands, he refused to be ordered around. No more.

“Hell no! You bumped into me, if you had one bit of wit in that ugly skull of yours you could have dodged, whereas I could not.” Brandon had been walking right next to Zhol after all, though that was no excuse and he knew it. However, to Brandon that didn't matter one bit, he hadn't seen the man coming and as such he was not to blame. “Though perhaps, if you get on your knees and beg, I might consider it!” Oh, there would be consequences for saying that, the thief didn't doubted that for a tick. However, he was adamant, he would not budge. He was not here to take orders, he was here because he refused to take orders, and the last man who had made demands and ordered the bat around has died by his hand. Brandon was prepared to take care of this guy as well, should it be necessary. Not the lethal kind of 'taking care of him' of course, but still violent.

Credit goes to Nyxie Nadira Draer