[BT 001: Kell's Assignment]

[shadowstrikes]

The high magister wasn't a tall woman; but she walked like one, at a ground-eating pace that could have easily left a man behind. And she was tireless, going nearly fifteen minutes in cool silence. As before, men parted before her, and conversation became silence.

It was the encampment of the outworlders that she made for, cutting to it like a knife.
She seemed to know where she was going, never mind that every inch of the camp looked the same. Here, only the banners were different: still red, but emblazoned with a snarling wolf rampant.

Kell followed.

In contrast to the High Magister, Kell was a tall man, stretched out like an afternoon shadow, long and thin. He was dressed in a fine black coat with silver buttons, pale skin and auburn hair just long enough to get into his eyes -- one bright blue, one nearly hidden behind his hair.

Kell Maresh looked like a man marching to his own execution, back straight and movements sharp, the hard, forbidding look on his young face making him seem much older than he was.

Collared, like quite a few others in this camp.

That could well explain the scowl.

They almost looked a matched pair, the woman with her dark robes, the young man in his black coat. But where he scowled, she looked only very grave, and motioned for Kell to halt as she came before a pale-haired man.

Hakkyuu felt the approach before he really turned his attention toward it, initially under the impression that the Magister's strong presence was going to march right past him like a gush of wind tearing through a ravine with the other man in tow.

At a glance, Hakkyuu assumed the two were connected as superior and subordinate, but something about the pace and approach made him realise, quite abruptly, that he was the magister's target before she even stopped or spoke. His attentive amethyst stare thinned as he pushed his shoulders back and straightened his spine but with no illusions that it would give him any additional height.

"Magister," he offered a clipped, not-exactly-deferential but not-exactly-impolite greeting, briefly flickering a look to Kell at her back before returning his attention to her. "Somethin' you want?"

Want, not need; the High Magister wouldn't need anything of him.

She nodded, unfurling a hand in his direction. Her pale skin was dotted here and there with liver-spots, was worn paper-thin with age. But her eyes were like steel.

"Your hand, please. Palm up, fingers splayed."

She didn't spare a glance behind her.

There was some hesitation, one eye squinting with clear scepticism and mistrust as one hand twitched at his side then momentarily folded into a fist.

He brought forward a wry little grin though, head cocked to one side.

"What, I'm getting smacked across the hand already? I haven't even done anything yet."

Despite the playful resistance, his hand did relax and he brought it forward for her, just as instructed.

"Quite the opposite, young man," she informed, quite dryly. But she inspected his hand, the lines of his palm, a moment. Frowned quizzically.

She moved her own to cover it, slender fingertips reaching his wrist. Between their palms grew a pale light, faintly blue. In time to that, behind the slender steel of Kell's collar, sigils of blue light rippled across the skin of his throat.

When she lifted her hand, there was a strange symbol etched in pale light at the center of Hakkyuu's palm. Like a starburst, or some sharp-petaled flower, gently spinning as it faded.

"You're a very pragmatic sort; I thought you would best appreciate a gift like unto you. You are now a master, after the Irkallan fashion; and Kell is your slave. The magic which binds him can be used, if you only command him formally and by name. It will compel him to obey, and should he refuse, he will lose the air he breathes."

Her hands fell back to her sides and she searched Hakkyuu's eyes.

Magic...

It wasn't that Hakkyuu was unfamiliar or especially adverse to magic in the abstract, but he didn't understand it as an element or have much skill for it himself, which made him leery. Managing to stop himself from rolling his eyes or show much displeasure, outside of a slight slump of one shoulder, he managed instead to only set her with a mildly unimpressed stare.

This changed when a link began to draw between himself and the man stood at the Magister's back. His expression began to tighten with confusion, then the realisation of what was going on hit him along with her explanation.

"Wha--? Hey, wait! That's not--!"

But before he could even get the protest out in full it was over. Teeth gritting hard at the back of his jaw, Hakkyuu pointedly glared at the centre of his palm to get most of the venom out before lifting them to the magister in steely silence before looking over her shoulder to the man he'd been tethered to.

Kell regarded the Magister’s chosen through his bangs, curious even through his grinding anger. She had to know what she was handing over. He wondered if he was truly meant to be a gift.

The man – shorter, almost a head shorter than him -- hardly seemed grateful.

Carefully, Kell let his power relax, just enough to feel, to prod. He’d been shielding hard, but the magister would feel the change, if anyone would. She’d know Kell was getting the measure of him.

Human. At first glance, anyway. Human... and something off.

The protests were so sudden, so heartfelt, and so mirrored Kell’s own that he almost felt the urge to smile. The scowl won out, but at the moment Kell and Hakkyuu’s eyes met, the impulse hadn’t quite died out of Kell’s expression and it made the glower look almost sardonic.

It wasn’t the first time Kell had fought the urge to terrify someone simply because he was in a bad mood.

The mental image of Rhy, worlds away, clutching at his throat and gasping for air he couldn’t find... that effectively cooled the impulse.

"Be sensible," she snapped at Hakkyuu, sharply cutting off his noise of protest.

"It's by a slender thread that outworlders were allowed to retain their lives, while the magisterium is bound under Imperial order to obey brutish lords with no head or sense for magic. You'd both of you be foolish to complain about indignities in this moment. When the choice comes to suffering the indignities of living and becoming unliving, as it so recently has for you all, I politely recommend the former. Stay alive until leave frees us all from these untimely and unkind constraints."

She paused, stepping aside, so that her body was no longer interjected between them. "And, if you're the sort of men who've been given good reason to have faith in anything: pray. In these strange times, there's no telling what might listen."

For all of Hakkyuu's impulsive, reckless choices in life, he rarely did it blindly or as devoid of reason as he liked to make it seem.

He was not, contrary to his initial protest, angry at the High Magister herself or blamed her for the situation. It was shitty, but it was what it was. There was a flicker of irritation at the sense that he should display gratitude for all this moment though, where he pressed the tip of his tongue down firmly into the crown of one of his back teeth and regarded the woman from under sharply pointed brows, like at any moment he may tell her to go fuck herself.

( Pick your battles and who you attack. )

But then, he dragged in a long, deep breath and straightened up again, the fury fading from his face as he pushed a hand through the front of his silvery hair and exhaled slowly.

"Yes, High Magister. Your recommendation to do all that's needed to live, no matter what the conditions, is definitely preferable to the alternatives and I don't take it lightly."

Lowering his arm to his side again, he looked at her once more, forcing the fire in his eyes to cool before lowering his head in as close to a bow as he's going to get.

"I'll do whatever I have to.

"Is there anything else I need to know about being bestowed the role of--" he paused, trying to churn the following world through his teeth so it wouldn't could out too pointed. "--a master?"

Antheia’s reprimand sparked a deep-seated, primal response in Kell, even if it wasn’t directed precisely at him. Although he was a grown man, he had once been a young boy with far too much power and too little sense. The way his back snapped straight spoke volumes.

Duly scolded, Kell placed both arms behind his back and pressed his lips together. Though the boiling anger hadn’t cooled, the High Magister had assessed him correctly. He would do whatever it took to stay alive, especially when his life wasn’t the only one hanging in the balance.

For a flickering moment, Kell met Antheia’s eyes, the scowl eased from his face. He’d made his choice.

It seemed she’d done what she could to give him to someone who wouldn’t abuse that choice.

He tried not to think too deeply about the fact that if someone had been praying, they’d been answered with the likes of the Outworlders. Somehow, he didn’t think the High Magister would appreciate the observation.

“Instead of Master,” Kell said suddenly, speaking aloud for the first time. “You might give me your name.”

Like a lion that had decided to be courtly rather than fearsome, she re-arranged her composure, pale hands smoothing along her robes. Her lips crimped, primly, and she nodded in their general direction, as if to graciously acknowledge and appreciate their respective decisions to adhere to polite decorum.

"The soldiers about you should prove good baseline resources of information regarding the expected comportment of masters and slaves. Remember these few rules, however, and none should life a brow: Hakkyuu, any slave you own is an extension of yourself in the world. Disrespect or discourtesy shown to your slave is discourtesy shown to you. Kell, you are a reflection of your master, and it is your duty to serve diligently, loyally, and in good faith to protect his interests over your own. By virtue of being a slave, you are owed steady food, lodging, and basic necessities that are serviceable in quality. By virtue of being a good slave, your master owes you the finest his hand can provide, in manner, deed, and keeping. The esteem and standing of any slave is reflected in the quality of his collar, which is the tangible symbol of your relationship to each other. You'll find that men and women will judge your merits by your treatment of each other... and deal with you accordingly."

She exhaled, and crossed her arms.

When Kell spoke, Hakkyuu's eyes snapped to him immediately, catching him under an intense amethyst stare and narrowing slowly at the insinuation; the phrasing and intent of his question to Antheia had been misread. Hakkyuu wasn't interested in being anyone's master but his own, however he knew all too well that there were always cultural expectations to meet and he wanted to know them ahead of time for strategic purposes--to know where to uphold them and where to make a purposeful display of dismissing them.

As the High Magister spoke, he listened intently, but his eyes remained on the man that was now his, taking that moment to appraise him with and doing very little to disguise that he was doing so. Kell was taller than Hakkyuu was, but most men were, and he was well-dressed with an straight back--in fact he'd effectively stood to attention when Antheia reprimanded them, though not in some militaristic fashion and it was something else again to the way Hakkyuu's spine had drawn him upright, like being told he was a disappointment and he didn't want to crumple with shame. He wasn't bad on the eyes either, not one bit, but something wasn't quite right in Kell's face and Hakkyuu tilted his head slightly with a tiny squint to try and see what it was exactly. He couldn't quite catch it.

Then, a small smirk tugged his lips and pushed a small breath that could've been a laugh through his nose.

"Sounds like she already gave it to you," he finally said back to Kell's demand--not quite a question--before he turned his head back toward the High Magister.

"I understand. 'Appreciate it, Magister, both you heading over here and takin' the time to talk me through it," he gave a weak, mixed little smile, the more formal tones from earlier (brief as they were, it was clearly something he could muster up if needed) traded for something a little more coarse but not exactly impolite or improper. "I know you've got better things to be doing than educate the likes of us Off-worlders."

Was he mocking someone with that self-depreciating little remark (and if so, who?) or was he just being frank about the situation? It was hard to say and he wasn't inclined to clarify, though he offered another small nod of his head, slightly turned to one side this time to perhaps convey a little more respect short of an actual bow. It might be taken as a bunch of mixed signals, but ultimately, nothing strictly discourteous.

The explanation sounded much better than what Kell had anticipated, but he knew better than to trust that that was all. What he paid attention to was the fact that Hakkyuu had asked it.

Kell wasn't the one who understood people. Rhy was. But Kell understood intelligence when he saw it, and this was a type of cunning rarely found in court, the kind that Kell had most recently seen in a ruthless pickpocket, and knew best in himself. This was more than choosing a coat, or a posture.

The High Magister had called Hakkyuu pragmatic, and she was clearly correct.

Kell was both prideful and self-conscious, and he met Hakkyuu's eyes just as boldly, weighing whether he enjoyed the attention. It made his heart race faster, as if he was being hunted -- but he didn't feel like prey. The attention made him eager to give it back, to knock him off-balance in turn.

Kell's scowl flickered into something almost like a smile as Hakkyuu squinted at him. He knew precisely what he was about, and wasn't ready to give it up.

He couldn't place his accent. It shouldn't have been a consideration when he quite literally came from a different world, but Hakkyuu mixed the way he spoke, as if certain parts of words came from different places entirely.

Survivor, indeed.

Kell turned to the High Magister, setting his jaw.

"My offer stands," he said quietly, searching her eyes. "You know what I need, when the time comes."

He considered apologizing for leaving blood all over her tent, but he was still very angry about the collar on his neck. He wondered if she would rub out the marks.

"Far more pressing," she agreed with Hakkyuu; though with the weary frankness that was also without rancor. And then she motioned with an open hand toward Kell.

"When we pass beyond Hero's Way in Emorr, you will have what you require and we will speak more frankly, and at great length. Until then... heads down, eyes open. Everyone is watching."

She made a quick motion, which seemed to have some formal significance; and then turned on her heel, robes rippling like water in her wake as she departed.

So they struck some deal. That's not the most surprising thing to hear--offering of services were negotiated in any number of ways no matter what the world.

He kept his mouth tactfully as the other two exchanged their words, then tipped his head once more as the High Magister turned to leave and straightened as her stride took her away. His face was quite unreadable as Antheia put distances between them, and then, as soon as she seemed reasonably out of ear and eyeshot, Hakkyuu turned his head to the side sharply, away from where she'd headed and away from Kell, his lip curled in frustration, fingers racking through his hair like frustrated claws.

"Fuck!"

A few heads turned at the sharp explanation, but the couple of lingering stares were met with hard daggers from Hakkyuu's eyes and he didn't drop his head heavy in exasperation until the camp had settled back into focusing on things other than him and his new slave. Rubbing his eyes with the pad of his thumb and forefinger, Hakkyuu tried more actively and genuinely to calm his fury after his outburst.

And then, finally, he looked at Kell again over the stretch of his hand, over his knuckles before letting his arm drop.

"So," he started, the hand that had been at his face resting on his hip as he turned fully to the Antari. "Sounds like you rocked on up and immediately decided to piss in someone's coffee. Good job."

It was hypocritical and he knew it: if he hadn't been pulled to Sheatris before this, Hakkyuu knew he'd probably have been assigned to a master himself just on his usual attitude. It was a mixture of luck and exhaustion that spared him, and that was it.

Kell watched Hakkyuu out of the corner of his (blue) eye as the Magister strode away. As she left the area, a wealth of noise seemed to burble back up. A few people gave him assessing looks, but went about their business -- only to be startled by Hakkyuu's outburst.

Kell pressed his lips together in a thin line and placed both hands into his pockets, letting his back marginally relax -- less the perfect posture of a noble and not quite his habitual slouch. It more closely matched the soldiers around them.

"Your sentiments are shared," he responded, and his proper voice and cadence sounding as though he were quoting someone they both knew. He tilted his head, let his hair fall more fully over his right eye before he turned to face Hakkyuu, his hands still in his pockets.

"Funny, how you'd come to that conclusion," he answered, annoyance immediately flaring back to life, doubly so because if Kell had had his way, that would have been exactly what he'd have done. Instead, he'd been a good boy, followed the rules, bowed prettily and was still in a collar.

Speaking of which-

"Why are you upset?" Kell asked, glowering again. Here he was, collar around his throat, rightfully vexed, when Hakkyuu had literally just been handed the kind of jeweled leash any royal would kill for.

Ungrateful.

The first comment from Kell's mouth that made him sound suspiciously like the Magister, either facetiously or not, made Hakkyuu flatten his brow into a hard straight line and gave Kell a deeply unimpressed look but didn't immediately say anything.

But then he presented the challenge to Hakkyuu's presumption about what went down and while a lot could be taken from that defensive stance (so they don't just make people slaves for throwing literal fits; deals could still be made and offered to slaves; non-violent or possibly even polite refusal still could result in the same fate), Hakkyuu didn't outwardly change his tune.

"Oh!" He sunk his head slightly, hands raising and his palms up in mock apology. "My bad, clearly you were all--" And when he next spoke, his voice took a sharp shift from his rougher edges to the kind of English dialect clearly implied high society, "--'Oh! Pardon me, I realise this is a frightful inconvenience!' while you unzipped and that makes all the difference!"

To Kell, he probably sounded like he was mocking someone from Oxford, to Hakkyuu he was mimicking the way the Firstborn sylvari speak.

He wasn't directly angry at Kell, but the fact the guy had some bite and brat to him made it all easier and more difficult all at once. Hakkyuu's hands that had been held up in sarcastic submission had been very animated as he continued to speak, first as timidly balled fists to his chest as he gave his 'impression' of Kell (he didn't think he was actually like that), then as a pair of irritated claws held out in front of him like he would be quite happy to throttle the other man if he could.

And he could. With hardly a word, he could. Without even making contact. And that realisation, along with Kell's accusatory words toward the end, made Hakkyuu drop his arms to his sides and set the Mage with a cool stare.

"I dunno about where you're from, but where I'm from--really from--most of us find giving people as gifts kinda distasteful."

He shook his head, lowering his gaze to briefly scan it over his hand at his side, then clenched it firmly.

"What kind of idiot would willingly want someone else's actual life in the palm of their hand? That shit's a heavier than it sounds." He shot a glare at Kell then. "So don't act like you're the only one this could impact badly on."

There was no way, on any level, that Hakkyuu could have known the irony of this moment.

The thing about being a generally scowly person was that people often didn’t realize that Kell had a sense of humor. To be fair, today it wasn’t all that easy to identify. He was also choosing to ignore that Hakkyuu’s response to him mirrored Kell’s response to the Magister almost exactly.

Kell frowned, and then his entire face went scarlet.

Kell had learned from a very young age to not lash out with his powers when he was angry, but it was a physical effort not to give in to the impulse to make Hakkyuu punch himself in the mouth. They were in the middle of camp, the mark on his master’s palm was fresh, and eyes were everywhere.

He’d almost, almost had talked himself down, decided to let it go, but of all things Hakkyuu’s last comment was what struck the deepest nerve.

Kell advanced on him quickly, so quickly his coat billowed out behind him, and his face caught the wind. It blew his hair back from his face, exposed his eye, the one black as ink from edge to edge.

“I’m sorry that my enslavement is such a frightful inconvenience to you,” Kell ground out through gritted teeth. “But if you think I don’t know that weight, you’re wrong.”

Instantly, Kell knew he’d said too much, and suddenly realized that that was exactly what Hakkyuu had wanted him to do.

His expression flickered, caught out, and then he made an exasperated noise and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

This looked like something he did often.

Where some people might shrink away from a furious Antari sweeping toward them, Hakkyuu straightened and effective drove his weight down to hold his ground exactly where he was, waiting for Kell to step up to him.

He could have punched Hakkyuu, or tried to, and they could have had a bit of a general go it, probably both been thrown into the pit where they could yell at each other some more, but when he blow didn't arrive Hakkyuu angled his head back to look at younger man over his cheekbones in spite of their height difference.

But there it was, the thing that he had difficulty placing before: that flash of onyx embedded in Kell's eye--no, that was Kell's eye. Hakkyuu didn't recoil, didn't blink, and met the darkness there with an unwavering glower that said that Kell could have been a storm incarnate and he would not move. It wasn't that there was no reaction, but it was subtle--a slight widening of his eyes when he first realised what he was seeing before firming his expression once more.

And then came Kell's fury over his tongue, words that made Hakkyuu's eyes become a little more open then become more pointed again, searching for more cracks, more places where the lines on Kell's face might speak a little bit more yet. But in truth even if he found nothing, for now, what Hakkyuu had was enough. It seemed like the two of them had more in common that Hakkyuu had originally thought, even without knowing the details.

He didn't send some snippish quip back at Kell, though not for lack of inspiration; his ego wasn't so delicate he needed the last word nor did he need to point out Kell's weak spots.

Instead, he watched the regret on Kell's face and the look of annoyance. The way he touched the bridge of his nose and made sounds like he would rather do anything else, reminded Hakkyuu of someone from home. So he gave Kell his moment to compose himself, and Hakkyuu in turn began to let his own frustration slowly ebb away from his shoulders as he reached up to rub the back of his neck with a sigh.

And then, he gave a low, dry chuckle and glanced over to Kell, appearing a less defiant and more tired.

"Gotta give her credit, the Magister sure has made a pair outta us, huh?"

It was more than not flinching, not pulling back, more than not showing fear in the face of what he was, though that was part of it. Nerves of steel – or perhaps that streak of devil-may-care attitude.

More than anything, what won Kell’s respect was the way Hakkyuu had looked into his eye, had heard what he’d said, then hadn’t pressed the advantage. He’d wanted to get the measure of Kell, not to humiliate him.

Kell was furious, but despite himself, felt all the more intrigued.

The frown eased as Hakkyuu laughed, and against his better judgment, Kell felt the tension in his chest ease. A man who hated owning someone else. Who would stand toe to toe with him, and then laugh it off. His heart was hammering, but he felt positively alive.

“She’s an intelligent woman,” Kell agreed, running his hand over his face, letting his fingers rest over his lips as he took Hakkyuu in for the first time as a person, rather than a potential threat. He’d never seen eyes that color on anyone. “Though I can’t decide whether she likes or hates you.”

A flicker of a smile showed at the corner of Kell’s lips, hidden by his hand, but it showed in his eyes.

After all, she’d given him Kell.

The people of Ebonhawke grow up with steel in their veins.

Maybe one day Hakkyuu would express that sentiment aloud to Kell and talk a bit more about what it means for the citizens of Ebonhawke as people, and how growing up there primed Hakkyuu to become the man he was today, but for now all Kell needed to know was that this was how Hakkyuu operated and it was good they get that out the way. Even better if Kell approved of it.

The fury was shared though and the only reason Hakkyuu's was lessened to some degree was by proximity to other situations of institutionalised slavery and how, by degrees, this was different. Not good, not better, just different.

Kell's commentary on the high magister made Hakkyuu snort and roll his eyes upward with a slight shake of his head before smirking a little as he briefly, though unabashedly, looked Kell up and down as if they'd bumped into one another on the street or in a bar and not just been magically tethered together. In other words, it was a very inappropriate kind of look, but somehow still he still didn't look like a fox who was examining Kell like a rabbit he'd caught.

"I dunno, but I'm going to go with 'likes' for now; kinda down to you to show whether I'm wrong, hm?"

He made a slight face at himself, like he realised the casual flirting really wasn't well-timed and he was fighting against pure habitual impulse.

Hakkyuu cleared his threat a little.

"I gotta admit, I have no idea how to talk to someone all forcibly strung to me no matter how good on the eyes they are--" he can virtually hear Sesyria's exasperated 'by the Tree, you really can't stop yourself, can you!' in his ear and decides to treat it like grammatically punctuation, "--and it feels kinda weird to do this without a drink or something. I dunno, you can down a few and yell at me a little more. Think that's make you feel better about this shitshow?"

Kell’s eyes followed Hakkyuu’s expressions, caught by how much he was both reminded, and not reminded, of a certain charismatic and slightly overdramatic young prince. This was a man who liked to put on a show.

The look was a rare one, though Kell had seen it before, and he immediately discounted it as another of Hakkyuu’s tactics, calculated to get a reaction out of him. The fact that Kell reacted this way said much more of Kell than Hakkyuu himself, however. He showed neither discomfort nor disinterest, instead arching a brow and dropping his hand.

“I can’t make that decision for you,” Kell answered, relaxing his shoulders and tilting his head to one side. The movement was unconscious, caused his hair to fall across his eye again, as if this were how he were most comfortable. The compliment drew out a dry look, but it wasn’t quite a rejection or a reprimand, more like he was used to this type of attention, didn’t take it seriously, and found it both comfortable and familiar.

“Drinks,” Kell agreed, with a sigh of relief that said he dearly needed one, and with a flutter of dizziness, realized he hadn’t eaten that day.

“… and food, or we’ll see the drinks again.”

A little too real, but fair warning. Hakkyuu’s boots were too nice for that kind of treatment, and Kell didn’t fancy cleaning off his coat, either. It may have just been his imagination, but he felt it was more difficult on purpose after he got it dirty.

“They did offer food,” he explained as he made to follow, then paused, a telltale sign of leaving something out. “But it was... decided it was best I saw the Magister right away.”

The fleeting impression of dizziness, small though it was, caused a slit-second of change in Hakkyuu's body--muscles going subtly tense as he seemed to lean inward slightly, but as soon as it was clear Kell was fine it all vanished again. He did keep an eye trained on the taller man for a second though before gesturing him to follow.

"What you mean is, you did something that meant you seemed either immediately dangerous or valuable, so they took away your reservation."

Hakkyuu walked with the conviction of someone not afraid of anything and with all the presence of someone who stood seven-foot tall rather than below average height he actually was. His long soft leather coat made it hard to tell his build exactly, but a keen eye would easily pick up that everything was very practical with lots of neatly placed pockets and hidden pouches. In fact, his head was the only part of him that was uncovered.

As he paced ahead, nimble hands snatched up a bowl and spoon, then later a metal cup from somewhere, as he guided Kell toward the smell of cooking meat, then cast a look back toward the Antari, offering him the modest cutlery.

"Go on. And take your time; you look like you got a pretty rough arrival," he shrugged a shoulder. "Unless you always look kinda tired and sickly, then... Well, you should still do the same, honestly."

The fleeting impression of dizziness, small though it was, caused a slit-second of change in Hakkyuu's body--muscles going subtly tense as he seemed to lean inward slightly, but as soon as it was clear Kell was fine it all vanished again. He did keep an eye trained on the taller man for a second though before gesturing him to follow.

"What you mean is, you did something that meant you seemed either immediately dangerous or valuable, so they took away your reservation."

Hakkyuu walked with the conviction of someone not afraid of anything and with all the presence of someone who stood seven-foot tall rather than below average height he actually was. His long soft leather coat made it hard to tell his build exactly, but a keen eye would easily pick up that everything was very practical with lots of neatly placed pockets and hidden pouches. In fact, his head was the only part of him that was uncovered.

As he paced ahead, nimble hands snatched up a bowl and spoon, then later a metal cup from somewhere, as he guided Kell toward the smell of cooking meat, then cast a look back toward the Antari, offering him the modest cutlery.

"Go on. And take your time; you look like you got a pretty rough arrival," he shrugged a shoulder. "Unless you always look kinda tired and sickly, then... Well, you should still do the same, honestly."

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a mother hen.”

Kell pulled a face and considered the blood loss, the long walk in the hot sun, the lack of food. Not that he was starving, but how long had he slept? Had it been longer than a night? He shouldn’t have been this tired.

Kell reached out with long pale fingers and took the items from Hakkyuu’s hands, eyes briefly lingering on his clawed gauntlets. Anything to hide, or just aesthetic? After knowing Lila and her demon-mask, Kell knew better than to assume. Weapons, so mercenary didn’t seem like an unlikely story. His attention caught again on that strangeness, and Kell felt the rare urge to pry.

Hunger won out, however, and he loaded a bowl. It looked vile and smelled delicious, and Kell put a piping-hot spoonful of the unidentifiable stew in his mouth, eating several bites before he was even seated. Steam escaped the corner of his mouth, and he narrowly avoided burning himself before sitting down in the shade of one of the tents.

“It was the eye,” Kell explained, a grim look settling into the corners of his mouth, the pinch of his brow. “Believe it or not, that tends to be the first question.”

Kell made a face at the stew, stroked his finger along the side of the bowl, and it stopped steaming quite so aggressively. He put another bite in his mouth, glanced at Hakkyuu.

Initially, Hakkyuu scowled at Kell's comment, then gave a short snort so show how absurd he thought the sentiment was.

"Please. I just don't want to have to drag you around by an ankle if you keel over or something."

Taking a seat while Kell gathered his food and immediately got stuck in, Hakkyuu watched him out the corner of his eye before he sat. They were both, evidently, sizing each other up one way or another now that the Magister had left and Hakkyuu was trying to assess what he could from Kell thus far. Well-dressed in that fancy coat probably meant he was monied on some level, or connected to people who were. He also spoke well, not as rough at the edges as Hakkyuu, nothing dropped or clipped, so possibly educated too. But the way he had advanced earlier without question could say many things: that Kell was too dumb to assess risks and had never needed to before, that he just assumed that he didn't need to view Hakkyuu as a threat on any level purely from their difference in size alone, or that he'd assessed the danger and had some express reason why he didn't feel the need to back down. Sure, there was rage there, but that wasn't everything and Hakkyuu could tell that much.

Raising an eyebrow when Kell went on, Hakkyuu smirked back at him and lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

"Comments about weird-lookin' eyes? Can't relate."

Resting his arms over his knees and folding his hands together, he went quiet for a few seconds then frowned.

"They dragged you over to her immediately because of the eye... That either means you've got a look that means something to them, or you did something with it."

He doesn't quite offer up the obvious question yet, instead allowing it to hang unspoken in the air and see if Kell will give it shape all on his own or not.

Kell didn’t subscribe to that for a moment. He’d seen the way Hakkyuu had started forward, like he’d have caught him in his arms if he fell. Someone had a hero’s streak, and Kell didn’t prod at him for it, because he was a hypocrite who would storm an alleyway to save a pickpocketing stranger.

So that shade of violet wasn’t normal in Hakkyuu’s world, either. A genuine smile crossed Kell’s face, there and gone before he took another bite. The stew was already half gone, and he tried to pace himself. He could be sick if he ate too much at once.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Kell answered, in a tones of someone who was usually blamed, and at least sometimes at fault. “My eye seemed to mean something to a man with a crow’s face.” Kell paused again, troubled by the memory. “I didn’t understand his language, but I don’t suppose they bow to strangers often.”

Confusion and apprehension made Kell a bit more free with this information than he might have been otherwise.

“My guards were very alarmed. So was everyone else in the immediate area.”

It wasn't all of the story, but it was the gist.

Hakkyuu knew that tone, the same one he'd effectively used when the Magister first stepped over and asked for his hand. The similarities between himself and Kell just kept growing in his eyes, and that made Hakkyuu smile to himself. It was very possible that the Magister had indeed picked well... or hadn't realised that by putting these two men together they could be quite the pair of troublemakers. Part of Hakkyuu, a rather large part, was hoping the latter was at least as true as the former, greater if he had anything to say about it.

"A crow's face?" The confused frown shaped he hadn't had encountered one of these creatures himself, but there was a lot about this world he didn't know. With a small snort, he cast a glance skyward with a wry little smile.

"Jeeze, waste no time, do'ya? Get summoned, freak out some guards, endear yourself to some tengu, then get dragged over to the Magister who slaps you to some stranger. Busy day for you."

He tilted his head a little, a smirk of approve on his lips that seemed to generally be appearing more and more.

"But none of that explains why the Magister thought you should have a master, just the you got some bird-faced guy to bow and you scared some guards. There's more to it than that. You embarrassed or something? Don't want to admit you told her where to stick her offer?"

Kell finished the bowl, eating more slowly, then sipped at the water. It was overwarm but clean and clear, better than he’d have expected in the middle of an army encampment. He paused, touching the side of the cup with his fingers before sipping at it again, this time without a grimace.

He noted the word tengu, added it to his growing roster of unfamiliar terms, but placed it into the same box as asmoni.

This time, Kell didn’t mind as much that Hakkyuu was prying, but one wouldn’t know it by the disgruntled look on his face.

“I declined the offer to become part of the war efforts,” Kell said softly, some of that anger and annoyance seeping back into his jaw, his brow, the lines of his shoulders and the curve of his mouth. “Very politely.”

Kell drank down the last of his water and held out his cup, tilting it slightly, as if to toast his new ‘master’. Then he held out his hand, the icy cup sitting on his flat palm.

Of its own accord, the tin cup lifted, hovered, then promptly tossed itself some twenty feet across the yard, into the bin of dirty dishes. Without Kell touching them, the spoon and bowl followed suit.

All slowed before landing quietly.

"Ahhh..." Hakkyuu sat up a little with a little grin. "So you politely told her where to stick it. Courteous of you."

It was fair enough though, and honestly from looking at Kell and seeing how he conducted himself, Hakkyuu got the impression that when he said he'd politely declined he did mean it. The same couldn't have been said for Hakkyuu if this had been his first rodeo.

If Kell hadn't already noticed, Hakkyuu was very sensitive to even small shifts and details around him, and the moment Kell splayed his fingers to let the cup settle in his hand, Hakkyuu moved his attention to it immediately.

And then, as the cup began to float, he blinked, but then as it flew, one of his hands instinctively snapped to his side, somewhere in the long folds of his coat, his body tense like a coiled spring, but no weapon came forth. He stayed like that, even as the ultimate location of the cutlery was revealed and the intent clear. His eyes narrowed as he processed, working through the possibilities for how Kell was able to do that before shifting his stare back to the mage without turning his head.

The first question on Kell's little display is short, direct and simple: "Tech or magic?"

While he wasn't exactly tech-savvy himself, there was technological advancement in his world well beyond what he'd seen so far in either this one, or Sheatris before it. Was Kell using some kind of magnetic rig? Something that worked with gravity? Or was it magic-based, something else Hakkyuu had proximity to in Tyria, but wasn't his personal forte. And again, if it was magic, was it something metal-based or gravity-based? Was it Arcane? Or was it air being made to look like something else? Or was it something else entirely? Something not easily placed in the elements? Or something completely alien to what he knew.

For someone who didn't really practice or have much aptitude for magic himself, Hakkyuu knew a fair bit on a theoretical level.

How the hell had Hakkyuu avoided a collar?

Kell narrowed his eyes at him, sat back a bit, watching the way he reached under his coat, reminded strongly of a suspicious thief with far too many knives. He wondered how many people had tried to kill him over the years, and how many times he’d done something to warrant it.

“Magic,” Kell answered, and all at once, decided he hadn’t been asking nearly enough questions. He leaned forward.

“What do you have your hand on?” he asked, folding his fingers together, nodding at the hand beneath his coat.

And there it was: Kell's first question.

Not a demand that could result in information, but his own direct question to Hakkyuu. He was wondering how much interrogating Kell would put up with before starting to ask himself. He gave Kell a sly little smirk, like he wasn't planning on giving him an answer as he withdrew his hands--empty--and resettled them across his lap.

"Twin blades," he then replied, almost out the blue. "Weapons of choice. But there are always more fun places I could have my hands."

He pointed a finger at Kell then without lifting his hands.

"What kind of magic?"

Already, Kell was starting to enjoy the moments Hakkyuu smirked at him like that. He was still peeling back the layers of what it meant, but he was willing to keep going.

Kell’s brow creased as Hakkyuu’s hands came up empty – and his blue eye rolled up and back. (The black, of course, didn’t change.) Despite himself, his expression softened into something comfortable, a flutter down deep that he chose to ignore. Despite himself, Kell was finding that he didn’t dislike the attention, though he doubted it was fully sincere.

Hakkyuu misdirected as easily as he breathed, and flirted just the same. Instead, Kell considered his question, rubbing his hands together. He slid one of his nails beneath another, coming up with slivers of dried blood the cleaning had missed. It didn’t have the air of misdirection, or refusal, it was more like Kell was figuring out how to explain, and finding it difficult.

“The kind they name,” Kell finally answered.

He looked up from his nails, into Hakkyuu’s eyes. “There are mages, and then there are Antari, and I need a drink if I’m going to try to explain.”

Nothing about Hakkyuu's demeanor shifts when Kell takes his time to answer. Instead, he just waits patiently, watching the mage pressing nail to nail, trying to see what was being pried free--dirt? Or blood? It was hard to tell from where he sat and if they were on the brink of entering a volley of asking one another questions he wasn't going to use one up on that.

It was Hakkyuu's turn to roll his eyes, though when he did so it was still with a smile even if it had a silent impression of yeah, yeah before his gaze settled back on Kell's face.

"So you're special, is what you're saying. But hey, I'm not going to deny a guy a drink if you're ready for one now."

And drawing to a stand, Hakkyuu paced toward Kell, peering down at him for a second, like he was mentally flipping a coin before offering a hand to the Antari.

"So how rough was your day, exactly? And do you want a drink that'll kiss you g'night or punch you in the teeth?" A shrug. "Though, either'll get you in the same place in the end, I guess."

“Special,” Kell agreed, in the kind of tone that spoke of very mixed feelings regarding the issue, not all of them positive, but couldn’t entirely hide a twisted sense of pride.

Hakkyuu’s hand surprised him, and hopefully, that made more sense now. He reached up a moment later, clasping the metal over his fingers firmly. For all his height, Kell wasn’t quite so heavy as one would expect.

“That depends,” he answered, letting their hands slide naturally apart as he moved to follow him, tilting his head. His hair fell across his eye again. “How thoroughly are you planning to take advantage of me?”

(That could be taken one of several ways.)

But he was effectively drinking for two, and he supposed he shouldn’t set his brother drunk if he could help it. Saints knew Rhy had poisoned them both enough lately, he’d deserve it, but from this far away, Kell wasn’t inclined to terrify him.

He fought the ache of being reminded.

And in contrast, Hakkyuu perhaps had less difficulty helping Kell to his feet than it might seem like he would.

That ambiguous comment of Kell's gave Hakkyuu pause, eyeing him closely and carefully, like he's looking at something a little dangerous and trying to decide how best to approach it--from the left? From the right? A feint? Something else.

After a long moment of silence, the smile returns, this time with a little flash of white from his canines.

"Oh, I don't think you'd let me just take advantage of you; you don't seem that boring."

While the wine flowed quite freely around the camp, Hakkyuu tended to prefer liquor and as he lead the way, he kept his eyes open for something that would lend itself more to that penchant.

With his back to Kell, Hakkyuu waved a hand over his shoulder.

"But either way, you look like a noble: I'd drink you under the table no matter what was in the cup."

For such an innocent comment, Hakkyuu certainly seemed to be treating it with a good deal of weight.

His eventual answer teased out a smile, a tiny flash of teeth as Kell ducked his head, didn’t make eye contact with him, and felt a faint wavering in his characterization of his new master. Perhaps he wasn’t joking around.

Perhaps Kell wasn’t either.

Kell had never flirted in his life (Rhy, for all that he wasn’t connected by blood, was still his brother, and he was the only one who ever tried, meanwhile Lila had stolen kisses like coins and Kell had given them back like paying a debt and still felt he owed her more-) and yet…

And yet.

It was an uncomfortable feeling, one that Kell was just as eager to shove aside as the prickling of homesickness that had nothing to do with home, and everything to do with silence.

“I’m content to let you poison yourself,” Kell answered dryly, but followed him all the same. “But if you need me to carry you home, you might point out which tent is yours.”

There was a large part of Hakkyuu that liked being a whirlwind to people in a myriad different ways, finding axes they didn't even know they had and spinning on it so hard and suddenly that the floor twists and turns away and footing feels hard to find. If Hakkyuu could read minds, if he knew that Kell wasn't used to flirting, he would have been on him like a hawk.

Fortunately or unfortunately, that wasn't quite so clear to Hakkyuu yet.

Kell's little quip gets a snort, timed perfectly with Hakkyuu fingers finding the neck of a bottle on the floor and scooping it up. He was not, in fact, a thief, he just had dexterous fingers and a strong interest in alcohol.

"Home's a long way away, kid. And as if I'd just let you scoop me into your arms anyway."

That time, Kell neatly dodged the verbal trap, neither confirming or denying his status. Smart boy. Hakkyuu was genuinely starting to like him more and more with every moment and the circumstances of them being tied together was falling to the back of his mind quite naturally.

Canting his head back to look at Kell (and ignoring a slightly distant cry of 'Oi! Where's me booze?!'), Hakkyuu posed a question to him with a teasing grin.

"You need some privacy to sling 'em back and talk about how very complicated it is to make plates fly?"

Kell followed Hakkyuu's fingers, spotting the neat getaway. Not Lila's cleverness and misdirection, but definitely on par with Kell himself. No wonder he had so many pockets.

Feeling a distinct kinship with the days he and Rhy had stolen bottles from the kitchens, Kell didn't both pinching glasses as he followed.

"Kid?" he asked, eyebrows shooting up to disappear into his hair, lips parted before they pressed together, thinned out suspiciously, and Kell gave him a searching look. "Unless you're very well-preserved-"

With a shake of his head, Kell swept up to his side, sliding his hands more comfortably back into his pockets.

"Depends," he answered. "Are you going to be asking for demonstrations?"

Kell quirked a finger at the bottle in Hakkyuu's hands, and it shot out from between them, into the air, and into Kell's hand. He caught it by the neck, checking for a label.

None. They were going to have a bad time.

Not that Kell would see it yet, but Hakkyuu's brand of dexterity was more focused on combat and adapting to the weight of a weapon rather than the subtly needed to pick pockets. His advantage came with radiating confidence as a means of diverting attention, but his actual misdirection skills were used for things far more important to him than theft; Hakkyuu wasn't a magpie and traveled light.

"You seem younger than me," was all he said about the matter of age, and that was generally how Hakkyuu approached that topic. In truth though, his sense of age was a bit messed up, for various reasons.

When the weight of the bottle leaving his hand initially caused Hakkyuu to straighten up again, his core muscles tensing, but that time the come down time was much shorter as he cast a glance to Kell inspecting the bottle. Was it wasn't restricted to just metal objects.

In truth, Hakkyuu had no idea how strong the moonshine was, but to him that part of the fun. Had he swiped something from a werewolf? Did they have stronger or weaker constitutions? Who knew.

"Looks like I don't need to ask. You just whip that stuff out for anyone who asks, hm?" He put a hand on his chest, feigning hurt (he didn't do hurt very well, even facetiously) "And here I thought you were trying to impress me or get me interested in something."

He gave the mage a look to show that he was thoroughly teasing before looking ahead again as they walked, pushing his hands into the back of his coat somewhere, his expression relaxed but kind of serious at the same time. There was a lot to consider about this set up now, a lot of information that would need to be exchanged between them in a short amount of time, and despite the pleasant sense he got from Kell, they were total strangers to one another. On the plus, Kell seemed competent and sure of himself. That actually helped.

"They give you a tent yourself yet, or..." he frowned, pausing for a half-beat before just going ahead and asking what was on his mind. "Do they not give one to slaves?"

Kell wouldn’t do himself the disservice of telling Hakkyuu that he rarely heard that. Characterizing himself as a grumpy old man would not make the best impression. So he didn’t deign to reply. Instead, he hovered a hand over the top of the bottle, and after a moment the cork popped out, smacking into the palm of Kell’s hand.

He didn't tell him how old he was.

He lifted the bottle to his lips and immediately pulled a face. It was vile, and burned all the way down. Not quite as thick as the disgusting stuff Rhy could find in the backwater taverns, but close.

Kell pulled a face and handed the bottle back, giving Hakkyuu an unimpressed look at his choice in expression. Despite the look, his eyes were bright, snapping, all of his attention focused on Hakkyuu, and he was surprised by how easily he gave it.

“The more impressive things aren’t fit for camp.” Besides, he’d already bled enough today.

The question reminded Kell all too starkly of the situation, and a bit of the light faded from his eyes.

“No tent,” he confirmed. His tone stayed even, then bordered on sarcasm, but Hakkyuu wasn’t meant to be the target. “I suppose they expected me to sleep by your feet.”

Or warm his bed.

Watching as Kell uncorked the bottle out the corner of his eye, Hakkyuu had to wonder about the sort of ominous answer he'd been given: the more impressive things aren't fit for camp.

If Kell could make things move with just a glance, just a thought, and he deemed the more impressive things not suitable, effectively, to perform around other people at large, it gave Hakkyuu the impression that all these little show-offy moments were less than the tip of the iceberg. What directions that meant Kell's abilities went in was still unclear, but calling Kell 'special' was starting to feel like less of a sarcastic jab and more like a very accurate observation.

But none of that sobering realisation made him snort any less when Kell tastes the first sip from the bottle. Well, wherever his background really was, at least he wasn't too prim and proper to take the first dive into the terrifying unknown of an unmarked bottle of moonshine.

With a shake of his head, Hakkyuu took the bottle and gave it a bit of a sniff, then easily took a sip himself. Kell's expression had been on the money. For Hakkyuu's part, swallowing left him sucking a hard breath through his teeth and then shaking his head a little more rapidly when the alcohol tried to leave a good punch to the head in its wake.

"Sounds like you and this stuff aren't that far removed: not necessarily safe for the camp."

He took a second swing though, more steeled for the taste this time before offering it back to Kell as he confirmed the lack of furnishing.

"It's like they don't know me at all," he said dryly, then shrugged and glanced away. "Don't worry: you'll have a cot."

He meant the cot, as well as a tent to cover it, but who needs details.

Kell watched Hakkyuu's face as the bottle headed to his mouth, and he made a soft sputtering sound, looked quickly away.

That might have been a laugh, by the way he reached up as if to physically wipe it away from his mouth, eyes eyes dancing again. He reached out for the bottle, tried not to inhale.

"This is vile," he muttered, and took another drink, wondering how utterly fucked they were going to be in the morning. His nerves already felt a touch warm, far more relaxed, and he was feeling just a bit better about life in general.

(That was the trap. It was hard to hang onto that feeling, and pushing past it, chasing it, always ended in falling on one's face. Kell liked to drink, but didn't like to be drunk.)

Kell accepted the way Hakkyuu glanced away, let the silence fall, and wondered about him. Wondered what he dared ask. He wasn't one for poking, prying, games, but he had more questions than was comfortable.

"Do you want them to?" he asked, gesturing with the bottle, bringing it absently back to his lips, but not drink, not just yet.

"I don't want most people to, so they're no exception." he answered honestly and without hesitation, keeping his eyes ahead as he walked, the lines in his face relaxed to neither a smile nor a frown like he was just letting the muscles there fall where they would. It made him a little unreadable, and differently so to when he intentionally wanted people to guess what he was thinking.

But Hakkyuu was generally honest--too honest--so the fact that Kell asked a direct question meant he would get a fairly direct answer, just maybe not an expanded one.

He tilted his head then, the smile returning as he jutted his head toward the bottle in Kell's hand.

"And it's not vile, you can just still taste it. Give is a few more swings, let it burn off your tastebuds and it'll be fine!"

The answer surprised Kell into silence.

He didn't know what to say, how to respond to that. It was both sad and something he identified strongly with. He touched the glass of the bottle to his teeth and took a deep pull. It burned all the way down, and this time, Kell coughed, covering his mouth, handing it the bottle over.

"Please believe me when I say you don't want a mage to ever be that sort of drunk," Kell answered, enunciating each word.

He felt very warm, which was his cue to stop for a bit.

As they came to the tents, Kell watched Hakkyuu's face again, remembering his anger upon finding his leash in his hand.

"I think I want to."

"Please," he shot back at Kell's warning, a wide grin spreading over his face along with a brief flickering of something that could have almost been fond, not directly at or for Kell, but it's there for a second all the same. "Drunk mages are my favourite kind. And getting them that drunk? One of my favourite past-times.

I wasn't a lie, and the memories of he and Sesyria getting very drunk together over the years, in Vigil Keep and later Lion's Arch, was a complicated, heavy feeling in his chest that hit a bit harder than he was expecting beneath the playful grin, but Hakkyuu hid it well--hides many things well.

Luckily, Kell's sputtering was a good distraction and he took the bottle from him with ease, though his outstretched arm lingered just a moment to pat the mage's upper arm with the back of his knuckle, a gesture of light support or solidarity.

While perhaps hard to tell at a glance, among the tents there was one that was a bit less lived in than the others. Sure, the Off-worlders hadn't been there too terribly long, but it was obvious that some were more taken with the shelter they'd been provided than others; Hakkyuu's looked like no-one had even been inside.

He paused as he went to knock back another hit from the bottle, part of him already thinking he'd be a bit more generous this time, but he looked to Kell in mild confusion at his final comment.

"Think you want to what?"

"You tempt fate," Kell muttered, but a smile touched the edge of his lips.

The touch was surprising, but more surprising was how easily Kell accepted it. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the length of the day. Short of Rhy and Lila, few had the courage for casual contact, especially these days.

His eyes slid over the tents, focusing on each, wondering which one was Hakkyuu's, but he couldn't find it and his companion wasn't quite forthcoming, not yet.

"Know you," you answered, utterly honest.

That was the moment his boot found one of the tent stakes, and he had to hop on one foot to keep his balance. Shit.

The honesty made something catch in Hakkyuu's chest, tight and taut and strange. He knew that feeling, though only a few times had it anchored down both firmly and heavily in such a small window of time. He knew to trust his gut about things like that, not to deny it or pretend it wasn't there, not to act like it was an over-extension or anything like that, and trust it was there. It was a warning bell.

He set Kell with a strange look, like he was trying to decide what he wanted to show on his face but got caught too long in the decision moment and it brought a short window of uncertainty.

... And then Kell tripped and that helped settle that. The instinct to stick an arm out was there despite the creeping edge of the alcohol, but when it was clear Kell had things under control he opted instead to chuckle.

"Man, you're a danger to yourself after basically two shots. Maybe you should spare me the warnings and keep them for yourself."

Slipping around the back of Kell carefully then, the edge of his coat brushing the mage's leg, Hakkyuu pressed the hand holding the bottle against the opening flap of a tent off to Kell's side--the one that looked mostly untouched--and peered in.

"And I don't tempt fate," he corrected, glancing back with a smirk. "I call it out for a good time."

"It was an unexpected tent," Kell grumbled, which was really unfair to the poor tent, which had been minding its own business.

Kell turned as his companion's coat brushed him, catching a whiff of leather, unfamiliar plants.

With a grumble, Kell ducked down and through the flap, into the comparatively dark tent, after the light outside. It took him a moment to find the lamp, and with a careless wave of his hand, it lit. Thankfully, it didn't set the tent on fire.

Even in the shade the heat was oppressive, and Kell reached up to undo his black coat with silver fastenings, easing it down and off his shoulders to lay it over the end of the cot. Though the long sleeves of his shirt covered the bandages of earlier, there were still a few blood spots on the material. He reached up to loosen the neck a bit.

"Are you sure this is yours?" he asked, suddenly suspicious.

He didn't see a single personal article. It might have been a new issue.

The cot that accepts Kell's coat so easily was as neat as the rest of the tent, and Kell's observation was keen; Hakkyuu couldn't blame his suspicions.

He merely shrugged though as he moved into the tent himself, giving Kell another look over with the finery laid aside, his gaze catching on the crimson spatters almost immediately and lingering there. He doesn't ask about it, but his eyes did narrow before he looked away to regard the tent like he was seeing it himself for the first time.

"It's the one they gave me anyway," he said at last, deciding to take that next sip from the bottle finally and feeling its effects start to swim in his head. It was good, awful stuff.

It was only then, as he brought his hand with the bottle down slightly to scratch his thumb against his lower lip, that Hakkyuu nodded to Kell's arm.

"Yours or someone else's?"

He meant the blood.

Kell pointedly looked over the untouched cot, back to Hakkyuu, and lifted an eyebrow, brushing his hair back from his face. By now, Hakkyuu wasn't showing any signs of being unsettled by his eye, and Kell was too hot to want it sticking to his forehead.

Given that Hakkyuu wasn't using it, he sank down to sit on the cot with a sigh, stretching out his long legs -- he left room to sit beside him, if Hakkyuu felt the urge -- and pulled a face at his arm.

"Mine."

Simply remembering it made it give a good, itchy throb all over again, and Kell scowled at it as he reached down to roll up his sleeve to the elbow, exposing the well-wrapped bandage. He tugged at the edge of it, unwrapped it he was able to peel it off.

A great deal of blood had seeped into it -- but the several knife cuts beneath were closed and barely inflamed, already on the way to healing.

"The Magister insisted," he said by way of explanation, and wound up the used bandages.

The sight of the bandages didn't back Hakkyuu off like someone who was squeamish, but it did make him straighten up with a fairly serious expression all of a sudden, like he hadn't just chucked three hard shots from the unknown bottle down his throat only minutes ago.

Then, he scowled, looking at the direction of the cuts and how there was no way they could be defensive wounds, but as he was processing the possibilities, Kell's voice cut in and distracted him.

"The Magister--?" he blinked, partially-formed reason clashing with that information "The Magister asked you to cut yourself?"

He scowled from an initial sense of misplaced anger at Antheia, but then the rest of his reasoning began to catch up as he frowned.

"Wait, are you a necromancer or something? Blood magic?"

It wasn't uncommon in Tyria, it wasn't even shunned in Tyria, but somehow the thought that Kell could be in that camp of magic entirely evaded him until that moment.

"Not directly," Kell answered, inspecting the wound with his fingertips and finding it sound, not overheated or sensitive to the touch. "And no, not necromancy."

By the look of confusion mixed with unease that crossed his eyes, it wasn't a class of magic that Kell thought much of. In truth, it was something he'd never actually encountered. There were stories, of course. There were always stories. And there were many reasons Kell's world burned their dead.

"What do you know about blood magic?" he asked, a little disturbed by the way Hakkyuu was frowning. It was a rare thing in any world, and from what Kell had seen of it here, he feared Hakkyuu was getting the wrong idea about his abilities.

"That it's messy and it's a pain to get out the carpet," he answered flippantly, but the immediate surprise was already ebbing away as he stepped over and dropped onto the cot beside Kell in the space that had been left, bottle dangling between his knees from a loose grip.

He tilted his head to look at Kell, inspecting him intensely from the much closer angle he had insinuated himself all too casually into before lowering his eyes to the other man's arm.

"I don't know much about magic myself, not directly anyway, don't care for the stuff and don't have much of skill for it. I figure it's like languages: you've got a knack for it or you don't, but it's always around either way and some people are just more built for it than others.

"But where I'm from Necromancers ain't rare and blood magic is pretty common among them."

He lifted the bottle, pivoting it by the neck between his middle finger and thumb as an offering to Kell.

"They mostly use that strand of expertise for healing magic. Or at least life force transferal; better to be the one whose buddy is the necromancer trying to keep you conscious than not. But it's fluids whatever way you cut it."

He smirked slowly, like he was trying to keep in a childish snort before he elbowed Kell casually.

"See what I did there."

It was a cheesy, stupid pun, and he didn't much care about taking it too seriously.

It made Kell think back to the mess he'd left on the Magister's carpet, and he tried not to smile. He made room for Hakkyuu on the cot -- it put him next to his injured left arm, giving him a good view of the damage, which wasn't all that impressive.

The pun made Kell roll his eyes heavily, and he dug his elbow into Hakkyuu's side right back, a little more sharply.

"Terrible," he muttered back, dry as bone, but he took the bottle from Hakkyuu's fingers, toyed with it a moment before bringing it to his lips, taking another sip. Not too much, he was already pleasantly buzzed and didn't want to get sloppy.

"In my world, only an Antari can command blood," he explained, this time very seriously. "I speak to it in the only language it responds to."

He left the sleeve up, rolled the other to match. All the better to air out the cuts, now that they'd close.

"This was me testing something that should have worked, and didn't."

"Ow!"

The noise was more automatic than an actual sound of pain, more like a chuckle in a different form and with more emphasis on the ending consonant; the sly grin made was just the extra confirmation that Hakkyuu didn't fine the counter-elbow a problem in the least.

As Kell spoke--opened up even--Hakkyuu didn't interject and kept his attention resolute on Kell's face, only occasionally flickering his gaze to his arm when the words provoked a connection with the damage, already healing.

"And that's what you are then? An Antari?" he shifted an arm, resting his elbow on one knee to cradle his chin against his palm, curiosity and genuine interest on his face.

"What were you trying to do that wouldn't work?"

Kell knew damn well he hadn't hurt him, but still checked his eyes to be sure, caught the smile and relaxed, resting his elbows on his knees, letting the bottle dangle in his fingers, back and forth. They'd gone through more of it than he'd thought, by the weight.

"An Antari," Kell agreed, lifting his free hand to gesture to his eye. "Aven. Blessed, and cursed. They can't seem to figure out which."

... oh, yes. He'd definitely had more to drink than usual, if he was digging into his existential angst.

The smile disappeared, leaving Kell's tighten at the corners, a muscle to work in his jaw. Sanct. He lifted the bottle to his lips, took one long drink, and brandished it at Hakkyuu as if telling him to take it from him.

"I was trying to go home."

And there was the shift.

It wasn't inevitable, but there was always the chance of it, a moment when conversation and alcohol came together and hit a nerve unexpectedly, and it shifted everything.

Hakkyuu had seen this many times before, in many faces other than Kell's, about many different things. He doesn't begrudge him, nor does he feel irritation at the mood shifting and took the bottle back without a word.

He felt the weight the glass between his fingers, shifting the liquid back and forth as Kell's words and the slight pain and frustration they carried. He knew that feeling.

"That's what I'm aiming for too", he said finally, eyes still on the bottle. "I dunno how likely that'll be, but that's the only reason I agreed to all this shit. The only reason I don't have a collar like you. That's it.

"Listen, I'll be straight with you: I'll be an awful master. I don't care what you wanna do with yourself, you don't answer to me and I won't force you to do jackshit. But since we're working for the same thing in the end, it's fine by me that we're stuck together like this. If there's a way back, we'll find it. I'll get you home."

And he meant it. It felt like a heavy pledge to make to someone he'd just met, but he meant it.

Kell's earlier words gave him pause though, then he shook his head with a snort.

"And why the hell do they need to figure out which it is?" Taking the bottle to his lips with a bit of a irritated scowl at whoever they were--it didn't matter. Hakkyuu felt that he took a bit too much himself in that mouthful and the burn made his shoulders shudder as he exhaled a hard hiss then looked at Kell firmly.

"Be both. Don't question it."

Kell's mismatched eyes caught and held on Hakkyuu's as he spoke, knitting his fingers together, back arched and shoulders hard, as if he could bear some sort of weight, or brace for a blow.

But that -- but I'll get you home.

It was a promise, possibly an impossible promise, but as the High Magister had said, there was no such thing as impossible, only highly improbable, and he got the sense that Hakkyuu was a man who took that label as a challenge.

A smile spread across Kell's face, a flash of teeth, fierce and sharp, and it only grew wider.

Both. Be both.

The laugh came under his breath like a release of tension, catching like Kell needed it, and had been needing it for a long time, even if it cut him up on the way out. It felt good.

"Are you?" he asked, still watching him with that hard-edged smile. "Both?"

What Hakkyuu didn't share in that moment, was that the gap between highly improbably and impossible was exactly where he worked best. He didn't deal in doubt, he dealt in 'if you don't try, you fail; if you try, make it happen.' So he meant it and the conviction wasn't a front.

He was expecting a protest, a million reasons and excuses to stay in line with some arbitrary either-or situation that ties people up in knots for no good reason. What he got was unexpectedly spectacular. Honestly, Hakkyuu wasn't sure Kell could really smile, but catching that expression, all fangs and with a look like he'd be ready to fly at the drop of a hat. There was something wild and dangerous there that looked like no-one had ever told him to tell the world to fuck off before. He liked that look on Kell and felt the way it lit a fire somewhere deep in his belly.

And then there was Kell's question.

Hakkyuu smirked long and slow, leaning in carefully to close the space between them a little but leaving enough space that they're each still in focus.

"Guess you'll just have to find out, huh?"

Kell was drunk.

He realized that at the precise moment that Hakkyuu leaned in, arresting him with those eyes, that smirk, that closeness, and for the first time in months, he didn't have another voice in his ear to drown out the deep, burning heat that rushed over him.

Had he been sober, he might have considered what game he was playing at. He might have second-guessed, made excuses, reminded himself of how stupid this could be.

Instead, he reached out to firmly grasp Hakkyuu's jaw, leaned in, and stole a kiss.

It was breathless, a little too rough. A few seconds later, he pulled back, and with his other hand, slid the bottle right out of Hakkyuu's fingers.

He took a drink, hissed under his breath, and brandished the bottle.

"Sanct. This still tastes awful."

Hakkyuu was not as drunk as Kell. Not by a long shot, but then he didn't need alcohol to do stupid things or get all up close and personal with people. He just liked the pleasant buzz it caused, the way it blended everything at the edges and how it some times helped him get out of his own head.

Get out of your head, was something Vrenille had said to him once, while holding Hakkyuu's face between his hands, the two of them drenched in sweat and sharing breath when Hakkyuu had been on the brink of falling apart in all the wrong ways. It was a problem and the alcohol helped, but it meant he'd build up a high tolerance for it over the years, even the strong stuff.

And on the plus, at that point in time, Kell didn't know or need to know anything on that level.

Honestly, most of the time Hakkyuu could take or leave kissing. It ran the risk of conveying the wrong messages, often came out too tender or soft, or felt like some bold emotional statement--all things Hakkyuu hated.

But with Kell, in that moment, it felt like a seal, a pact, and it was excellent. Because of when it happened, because Hakkyuu didn't have to say a word about what he didn't want, and because it was just a little too rough, it was perfect.

Best of all, Kell knew when to withdraw, right at the peak of adrenaline when it could spill over messily into something easily, and with the way the energy in the tent was crackling, Hakkyuu knew it wouldn't take that much to let the whole thing go up in flame, like a match to gasoline.

Part of him really wanted that, but another part of him, a part that grew louder when Kell took the bottle back, knew better. Truly knew better, even beyond his drive to do things he knew he shouldn't.

The way Kell swore, in that slightly foreign way that with a universal meaning, made him smile, then chuckle--warm and light in his chest. And then, just to even the scale, he snapped a hand forward to grasp Kell's collar to give it a hard yank closer.

"Vastly improved on your lips though," and to emphasis his point, Hakkyuu lightly dragged his tongue along Kell's lower lip and to the corner of his mouth.

That's enough.

That loud little voice... What a pain.

With a sigh, Hakkyuu let his fingers slip free of Kell's clothes and reluctantly forced himself to a stand.

"Tent's yours, here and wherever else they make camp. Do and keep whatever you want in it, it's fine."

He forced his eyes away from the Antari as he spoke, but made no attempt to banish his smile.

"You really should rest," and then, after glancing back at Kell with his grin growing a little, he added playfully, "You look like shit."

Only in some ways. In others, he looked good enough to eat.

There were those moments when impulse and want melded together, overtook reason and good sense. Alcohol was notorious for tipping the balance, or maybe it was just an easy excuse for acting out.

But Kell was hungry for something, and the feeling of kissing Hakkyuu rivaled the rush of being in the pit, of using his powers until exhaustion, of burning through what he had inside him so it wouldn't burn him from the inside out.

Or at least, he told himself that. It was partially that.

It went much deeper, to collars and promises, to freedom and home, and he was in no mental place to begin to unpack it.

Thankfully, he didn't have to. Hakkyuu's fingers wrapped around his shirt collar and dragged him back in for another kiss. His lips parted in surprise, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as Hakkyuu licked along his lower lip, striking him like a match.

Heat pooled in his lower stomach, and had Hakkyuu not pulled away, he couldn't say what he might have done.

Kell reached up and dragged his hair back from his face, catching his breath as he looked up again. A smile tugged at the edge of his mouth, and he tossed the bottle back at him. He'd get more use out of it than Kell would.

"Get out," he agreed.

It was one of the smarter decisions they'd made that evening.