[ P ] honky tonks and dance halls

The cowboy could scarcely stop thinking about the ball, eager anticipation growing with every day. And fortunately so – it led to him asking around about it, which manifested essential information. First, that he needed a ticket; that was a stressful surprise, as Aryth hasn’t mentioned anything of the sort. It must have slipped the scholar’s mind, considering he had a direct invitation from the king and had no need of obtaining one. Still, it was very nearly a disaster, for how could an outlander like him procure items of enough value to buy one on such short notice? Fortune favored him, however, a strong gust of winter wind all but throwing a lost scrap of blue fabric into his face. At least now he knew that, for better or worse, fate itself wanted them to attend that ball together.

With that out of the way, all that remained was personal preparation. For everyday matters, Grigori was more scruffy than not, unkempt fur always at least a little dusty. He hardly noticed it, in his homeland one could hardly escape the dust for more than a short while. But his friend was going to perform, he shouldn’t be seen in the company of some messy hillbilly. And if rectifying that gives him a chance to surprise and impress Aryth.. all the better, right? So when the day of the ball finally arrived, Grigori groomed his fur until his tongue felt as if it was coated in sand. The effort wasn’t wasted – by the end of it, his fur gained noticeably more luster, replacing that dull look, and more white showed through where his coat wasn’t sandy, instead of the usual dirty grey. Rolling in mint was the finishing touch; he didn’t know nearly enough about herbs to know what could provide a suitable undertone to his scent for such occasion, so accentuating what was already characteristic for him was the next best choice. With all preparations done, he headed for the capital, with his ticket between his teeth and a mask on his head. It was a simple one, merely the upper half of a bull skull, horns and all, that he’d found some days prior. Such bones were a common sight back home, but it wasn’t nostalgia that guided his choice – he just thought of the fact that Aryth was curious about foreign lands.

While the journey would have been enjoyable to share, he’d told his friend that they should meet in front of the castle gates beforehand. Grigori was very eager to see how the young professor prepared for the event, but getting to do so while they were still at the College would just be cheating. The city was crowded again, perhaps even more so than the last time.. but also more orderly. It would seem the army was keeping close tabs on any city activity tonight. Small, somehow contained flames guided his way to the castle gates. The blonde male felt a little uneasy, as if he was somewhere he shouldn’t be, or some kind of impostor. He still knew so little about this land, and yet.. here he was, making his way to participate in the king’s party. He had to actively think to himself that it’s fine, and luckily no one stopped him to say otherwise, guard or not. Yet the gates were even more intimidating, particularly as he couldn’t even begin to guess what lies behind them. The castle is just so.. otherworldly. And he’d hate to attract attention in such a high security place by stumbling around in a daze, so he was all the more glad to have company. It would seem he was the first one to arrive, however.. the area just before the gate wasn’t as crowded, only a handful of wolves slowly handing in their tickets and entering, but no Aryth among them.

Time to wait, then.

„*”

A R Y T H M E T I K

Snowflakes twirled in lazy circles through the air outdoors, choreographing a dance all their own. And on that crisp wind was the promise of a grand adventure, the peal of distant laughter, the thrum of a thousand hearts beating in anticipation.


It was the day of the Winter Ball.


Aryth stood in the center of his den, face blank as his stomach performed tiny flips. Dried leaves, varied herbs, and strips of random bark were scattered around him on the floor. In his efforts to practice and memorize his poem, the Junior Professor nearly forgot to craft himself a mask for the masquerade. Perhaps it was the nerves. For some reason, he could speak to gathered students in the Arboretum, but the idea of reciting poetry for the entire banquet hall (in the castle no less!) sent his heart into a frenzy.


But then he remembered Grigori’s tawny features, smiling with a cool confidence and effortless strength. And he remembered they were supposed to meet at the castle gates before entering, walking side by side into the fray. And Arythmetik was no longer afraid.


With a deep breath, the scholar returned to the present and glanced down at his “masterpiece.” Deep in the abandoned archives of forgotten College ruins, the russet male had discovered something quite remarkable: a pair of round, golden glasses. The metal was dented in a few places, and there were no lenses anymore. But Aryth was enamored. He swore he recalled a portrait of such an item in one of the College’s tomes (but not one in his personal collection). Around these faded, golden frames, the professor had spent hours weaving white birch strips and fragrant willow bark into the shape of a mask. The wood strips furled at the edges, and above the glasses, taller pieces of willow wood arched into antlers. To add a finishing touch, a sprig of winter holly, complete with small red berries, was tucked into the right side.


Aryth donned the mask and was off, traipsing through the snow along the familiar path. He’d walked it a hundred times, but today, the journey felt faster than usual. As he entered the city proper, the scholar clung to his silky, blue ticket like a monk holding a book close to his chest. His pace slowed, eyes wandering around the bustling capital as he imagined the evening’s events. But when he arrived in the castle’s glorious shadow, and saw a striking, familiar figure waiting, Aryth’s heart stopped.


Was that Grigori? Aryth’s jaw nearly dropped (which would have released his ticket to the breeze, a veritable tragedy). The cowboy always made it sound like he wasn’t suited for fancy things, or civilization for that matter, but Aryth had never seen a more dapper gentleman. That sandy fur was lustrous and glistening, and the bull skull atop his friend’s head was like a magnificent crown. It made him tower even higher over the earthy scholar, who strode in wonder to stand before his companion. Suddenly, Aryth’s throat was dry, but the smile that graced his maw was earnest and gentle. “Incredible,” he murmured, breathing in the minty scent he’d come to enjoy so dearly. Aryth’s gem-like eyes sparkled. “I’ll have to fight wolves away from you.” A reference to his terrible joke from before; an honest compliment. He stepped closer yet, and down the row of torches, the open gates poured forth music and the delicious scent of food. It practically entreated the pair to enter.


“Shall we?”

code by claerie

@Grigori

His eyes drifted up to the dark sky, watching the flurry of white petals dance around aimlessly, before they fell to the ground. Snow was a rare occurrence where he grew up, and it’s quite possible he has never seen this much of it before. Maybe he’d be awestruck, if this land didn’t show him much more incredibly things already. Yet, the sight of his ball partner would soon trump them all. The soft crunch of paws upon snow alerted him to Aryth’s approach; he didn’t know how he recognized him by the sound of his steps alone, but he was certain. He turned to face him, anticipation gripping his chest tightly..

The glimmer of gold, framing the scholar’s emerald eyes was the first thing that drew his attention. He didn’t know what could have been used for such effect, but whatever effort Aryth has put into obtaining it, was certainly worth it. The rest of the mask wood and bark, carefully crafted, a stark contrast to his simple and utilitarian use of a skull. And yet, for an outside observer it would be an easy assumption to make that they coordinated to a degree, Aryth’s faux antlers being a matching counterpart to the horns of his bull mask.

While the mask was impressive, Aryth himself was even more so. The young professor was always presentable, so while it wasn’t as big of a transformation as his own might have been.. the warm light coming from the torches truly brought out the richness of his russet coat, and as said light flickered, shadows danced over his slender body. Grigori has often taken glances, but he never dared look too long. Now, he was more certain than ever.. there was an apparent gentleness to Aryth’s physique, but he was still unmistakably a male, not excessively weak nor frail. A graceful, beautiful balance, driven by a brilliant mind.

Who knows how long he would have stood there, silent and awestruck, if his friend hasn’t spoken first. And what impactful words they were – Grigori blinked dazedly, a little worried he might have to sit or else his legs might fail him. Incredible was far more steps up from ‘so good’ than he could handle all at once. The sound of his beating heart suddenly drowned out surrounding sounds in his ears, further limiting his focus just to the two of them. He had to bite his tongue to impart the urgency of coming up with an answer to his mind. “Not while I’m with ye, I think.. haven’t even heard the poem yet, and I’m already a fan.” Before the cowboy could stop himself, he took a step closer, leaning in and down towards the smaller male. For a moment, he froze, realizing what he almost did, before he continued on a slightly different course. He aimed to brush his nose against the side of the other’s muzzle, taking great care not to upset the mask. An intimate greeting, without a doubt – but not one crossing the line of friendship just yet. “Yer stunning.” he muttered, complete sincerity replacing the humor from earlier. In fact, he even pronounced the word fully, emphasizing the strength of his opinion.

When he pulled back, he moved to walk past his friend, turning around behind him to come up at his side, leaning in closely. Certainly much more forward than whatever incidental touches that occurred between them before – he wasn’t sure if it was the mask that emboldened him, or Aryth’s compliment. “Ready when ye are.” he assured, flashing a hint of a smile from underneath his mask. For better or worse, taking the leading role was the only way he knew how to act during such events, though the seasonal celebrations of his home settlement weren’t nearly as big or formal, and back then it was the woman who was.. used to be his wife, who stood at his side. He still felt guilt for avoiding even the faintest thought of her name.. but he didn’t let his spirit be dampened for long, instead refocusing on the present and taking the first step to lead them to the gate.

The guard’s stare put a considerable strain on his confidence. Two males walking together like this was something that never happened at his home settlement, but if it did it certainly would be the scandal of the decade. After leaving, and after spending that night with Alexei, he’s been all too eager to forget about the stress of hiding altogether, so much so that he hasn’t stopped to consider that this event might put spotlight on him like this. But.. to hell with it. It doesn’t matter if he’s jeered or ridiculed, Aryth’s company is worth more than that.

..In hindsight, maybe he should have worried at all. The guard seemed more bored than anything else. “Evenin’” Grigori offered a nod as he handed over his ticket, then waited for his companion to do the same before they finally walked through the gate. In the entry hall, the torches were used to clear effect, guiding towards the ball area while other pathways remained dim.. and likely hiding guards ready to redirect anyone too determined to snoop around the king’s abode. More importantly, the castle was as impressive inside as it was outside, if not more – it could be likened to a cavern, but far more open and spacious than any Grigori has seen before, with every stone surface completely smooth and sharp angles instead of curves where the walls met the floor and ceiling. He could see weirdly angular ramps leading to upper levels, but that’s not where they were supposed to go. “Ye ever been here before?” He glanced at his friend, curious if it was, for once, a new experience for both of them.

„*”

A R Y T H M E T I K

The country gentleman ( was he even Grigori, or some mischievous changeling sent to—no, that was fantastical nonsense! ) honed in, and Aryth’s breath caught in his throat. Doling out compliments was easy. Receiving them was an entirely different matter. And still Grigori grew closer, their mouths nearly a hair’s breadth apart. The fresh scent of Grigori’s cool voice caressed Aryth’s every nerve. He could have sworn Grigori was going to kiss him! But he hadn’t moved away. In fact, he stood quite still, watching silently—a studious scholar struck dumb. And then, suddenly, the cowboy swept in for a friendly, glancing embrace, the sort of greeting that reminded Aryth of Mainlanders. Aryth’s maw parted in a pearly smile, airy laughter lilting as he exhaled and leaned into the touch.


And he wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or dearly disappointed.


The confusing feelings weren’t scheduled to end any time soon. (When was this ball over?) Aryth waved off the word “stunning” with a murmured “Oh posh.” Still, it was hard to ignore the fire that Grigori reignited by circling him. Like a suitor holding out his arm, Grigori stood with dapper grace at the smaller male’s side, and Aryth straightened. Of course, he had no idea what was going through Grigori’s mind, and he was smart enough to know that theorizing would only end in disaster. But Aryth had invited him, after all. Maybe this sort of doting was just Grigori’s way of saying thank you. Was it so wrong for Aryth to enjoy it? (If Aryth were at all indulgent, he might have argued that a poet of honor deserved a strapping, muscular companion guiding him into the castle.)


With a nod, the pair strolled toward the grand gates. Grigori seemed to concentrate on the soldiers for a moment, and Aryth remembered their conservation the other day in his den. Inwardly, he tensed ever so slightly as they handed over their powder-blue tickets. A seed of instinctual distrust was sewn deep in the scholar’s gut. He eyed them closely, trying with all his might to keep his fur relaxed. Betraying his true feelings could be deadly. But in the end, his anxieties were just as silly as Grigori’s. The guards took their tickets and, without comment, they were allowed entrance to the grandest sight Aryth had ever seen. This time, Aryth’s jaw literally dropped, his neck arching in a wide circle as he gazed up at the ornately painted ceiling high, high above. ‘Ye ever been here before?’ Grigori asked, and the words echoed in the back of his mind, just as they echoed off the marble and stone of the palace foyer. “No,” Aryth whispered, breathless.


It was even better than the rumors, than the scraps of paintings he’d glimpsed in faded tomes. Beyond the grandeur of another archway, Aryth saw a gigantic room; inside, scores of wolves were gathered, all sparkling in their masks. A feast was lined with garlands and garnished with luscious, red and purple berries. There was even a raised platform to one side of the room, presumably a stage for the performers. Artwork graced the walls in all directions, tantalizing the scholar’s imagination. And then, finally, opposite the stage was a dais. There, the royal family sat in all their stolen splendor. “There they are. King Adamh and Queen Daphne.”

code by claerie

As if the torches weren’t enough, the smell of all kinds of meat was drawing him to the ballroom and making his stomach rumble – not too loud, he hoped. Once they walked inside, it was impossible not to feel overwhelmed; the paintings on the walls dwarfed most book illustrations in detail and scale, displaying entire scenes and landscapes. Similarly, the feast put any celebration he had attended in his life to shame, offering the choicest cuts of all kinds of prey animals, further enrichened by savory fragrant herbs and spices. Other guests were scattered across the room, some single, some in pairs, the rest in larger groups. Talking, eating and prancing around on the middle of the room in some kind of dance.

Grigori’s attention shifted when his friend spoke up, settling on the royal pair. “They look like wolves like any other..” he muttered, keeping his voice low in concern that such opinion might offend someone. Indeed, little set the king and queen apart, aside from particularly exquisite masks. Why do some deserve to be royalty, while the rest of them live as ordinary wolves? Then again, Grigori knew too little about that life to make a judgement – perhaps he wouldn’t at all want it for himself, even if it was an option. And he couldn’t deny that giving others, even outlanders like him, a chance to taste that lavish lifestyle through this ball was a nice gesture. Even if he’d prefer a more modest gathering, where the hosts provided for their guests with their own effort. “Though, as a couple.. they seem a little sad.” Perhaps it wouldn’t be appropriate for leaders to display too much affection for each other in front of so many subjects. If there are actual feelings between them, the cowboy couldn’t tell. If there are, maybe it only makes it more difficult. Though his own circumstances couldn’t have been more different, he knew how hard it is to put on an act before everyone else.

But that’s enough of staring, he didn’t want anyone to notice. He leaned in to nudge Aryth with his shoulder, before directing them to a couple of soft and puffy looking seats, ones that his friend would probably be able to name as cushions if he asked. “Be right back” he said with a warm smile, brushing against the russet male’s side as he stepped away. Every touch between them tonight has clearly been more intentional than incidental, but still not unwelcome – his heart beat faster with warm excitement at how natural it felt. He approached the feast, tail wagging behind him softly as he did.

The variety was enough to give Grigori a choice paralysis. His eyes darted back and forth across all the options within his reach, taking the ones that were further away into consideration as well would have turned the task into an impossible one. Finally, he settled on a piece of boar ribs with a generous chunk of meat around them, sprinkled with dried rosemary and thyme. He had an opportunity to eat bear not too long ago, after helping to take one down, but he figured that Aryth didn’t get one nearly as often – those beasts take a fair deal of strength to take down. Of course, a big wolf like him could eat a lot and he had no intention to hold back tonight, so he’ll get something else for himself later. He reached for the plate, but picking it up proved to be a struggle; he almost tipped it over and sent everything flying, before he finally figured out that a deep bite of a hold was required, so his back teeth would keep the whole thing even. He’d ask Aryth to teach him about lever physics, if he knew such a thing even existed.

Upon returning with the food, Grigori set the plate down in front of his companion and seated himself on the opposite side of it. Of course, he intended for them to share the food, he’d been told many times that it’s important for, ah.. couples, to do so at least once during such events. “Hope you like boar?” he asked, a hint of uncertainty appearing in his voice. Maybe he should have asked beforehand, but after everything Aryth has said about his confidence.. he really wanted to show the initiative tonight, instead of playing it overly safe.

Just in case his friend wasn’t certain and needed encouragement, he leaned down and took a bite. “Mmmh, it’s vehy ghood.” he mumbled through the food in his mouth, completely forgetting about table manners. Then he took a bite of the berries that were arranged in a circle around the rib, and almost coughed as intense warmth spread through his throat and belly. Fermented, of course – he should have realized by the smell, but his attention was too occupied by the juicy meat. “Phew. Wow, strong stuff.” he said with a chuckle. He probably should take it easy with these, it’d be horrible if he ruined their evening by getting drunk.

As they ate, he kept glancing to the scholar now and then, just to quietly appreciate how handsome he looked. A couple of times his eyes shifted to the dancers, admiring their elegance. Grigori never learned to do anything like that well, it seems that whatever coordination he might have in a fight didn’t manifest in most other tasks. He wondered if Aryth knew how, if he wanted to.. with him. As terrified as he would be to try, most likely only to bump into everyone else around, the thought of it still brought flushed heat to his cheeks.


„*”

A R Y T H M E T I K

His eyes were drawn to the King and Queen, clinging to them like a debutante dreaming of a future in court. Of course, the scholar had no love for royals or nobles. But he didn’t hate them, either—not like the Jacobites of the Highlands whose blood turned the Wood Red. He was seeking the tiniest details, desperately searching for clues that would give him answers. Always an analytical mind. And yet, until Grigori mentioned they seemed sad, he hadn’t given that much thought. He was too focused on their interactions with doting nobles to recognize the stiff posture. The soulless glances. The downturned corners of their lips. “Ah,” Aryth mused quietly. “There are rumors that Queen Daphne is barren.” Arythmetik heard a lot on his journeys between the College and Castle Stuart.


Aryth was somewhat relieved when his companion changed direction. He was here to study, but he should enjoy their time together, too. He had invited Grigori, after all. Aryth blinked in mild surprise as his friend announced he’d be right back. The russet wolf waited, grinning at the departing cowboy’s confidence and distracting himself by the many excellent masks glittering around the hall. Suddenly, the scent of food was overpowering and Aryth turned to face a proffered meal, licking his lips. “Oh, thank you!” He chuckled, his tail wagging practically against his will. “There’s always time to try new things.”


Watching Grigori dig in was more than enough convincing. Aryth followed suit, his stomach aching needily, his eyes nearly rolling back into his skull. His taste buds were alive with the sensation of wonder. Chewing voraciously but forcing himself to take small, polite bites, the scholar's enthusiasm collided with Grigori’s energy and made the meal even more satisfying. “This is fantastic!” Aryth urged. The tenderness was to die for. “I’ve never had anything like it!” Now fermented berries, on the other hand, were quite common around the College. He’d never been drunk, but he took one anyway and laughed in the spirit of things. “Mm, I better not have any more of those before I perform.”


Finally, Aryth noticed that Grigori was staring at the dancers. He assumed this had to do with the foreign peculiarities and cultural differences he’d invited Grigori to study. Smiling warmly, Aryth took another bite then asked, “Do you have any events like this Ball where you come from? I’d be curious to know how the food and dancing compare to your homeland’s traditions.”

code by claerie

Grigori could only nod between bites to his friend’s glowing review of the food, it really was delicious to the point of making it difficult for him to pull his muzzle away from it. “Wish I knew how to prep this kind of food.” he commented as soon as his mouth happened to be empty enough for his words to be comprehensible. He never realized that there can be so much more to making a meal than just bringing prey down. Perhaps it’s something only wolves who have the safety net of a luxurious life can come up with. Those who are worse off probably can only afford to focus on herbs that can be used for medicine.. “Hmm, and what ‘bout after?” The blonde brute teased with a smile. Admittedly, he couldn’t help but be a little curious as to how the scholar might act when drunk. If he still can pull off all those fancy big words, that would certainly be impressive.

The question caught him off guard, for once his mind has been free of thoughts of home, but now they poured back in. He stopped eating, turning his eyes to the dancers completely.. yet his gaze was distant, not focusing on them at all. “I s’pose there were some, but a commoner from the rims like me would never set a paw near one.” That is what impressed him the most about this ball. Usually the last thing people in power want is giving anyone else a taste of the finery.. yet here, even an outlander like him could attend. “As for my folk, well, life was tough so they took any excuse they could to celebrate. But it was much simpler and rowdier than this.” Drinks, songs and dance.. not the graceful kind like here, though. Sometimes it was almost raunchy. Grigori tried to recall more than that, his brows furrowing when he realized that he couldn’t. Ever since he reached adulthood, there wasn’t really a day when he felt happy. Whatever party he wound up at, it was just something to endure. He’d spent days throwing himself at work, spending as much as time as he could away from his den.. away from his family. “I can’t recall much else, I guess I didn’t have it in me to enjoy such things until I left.”

A bittersweet smile danced on his lips for just a moment, before he leaned towards the food to take another bite. Clearly he should have looked first, as instead he ended up booping Aryth’s nose with his own. His eyes snapped to endless pools of green in surprise.. but he didn’t recoil. “Or.. until I met ye.” It was barely a whisper, possibly not even audible over the party’s ambient noise. Every moment they have spent together was something he could cherish – comparing it to memories of home now made Grigori more keenly aware of it than ever before.

The sounds of their surroundings seemed to fade under that of his own heartbeat. The blonde male angled his head, moving his nose out of the way so that either one of them could lean closer should they so choose. He wanted to, oh he wanted.. there was no longer any uncertainty in him regarding the escalating fondness for the other, nor the attraction that followed suit. Perhaps he wouldn’t dare give the feelings a name, but it couldn’t be denied they were budding. Yet.. he found himself paralyzed. The possibility of his intentions being a mistake was crippling. For what it’s worth, at the very least Grigori stopped himself from deflecting this time – but he could only hope that, if Aryth felt the same way, he had the courage that he lacked.



„*”

A R Y T H M E T I K

If Aryth could have blushed, he would have. His head turned sheepishly as he contemplated letting loose. “Maybe… I’ve, erm, actually never been drunk before,” he admitted. As if it were something to feel guilty about. Aryth and Grigori were more alike when it came to parties than either of them truly knew. The Junior Professor always attended festivals, but he’d never actually celebrated. Maybe it was time for that to change now that he had real friends, real companionship. But he couldn’t tell Grigori that tonight wasn’t the night; he had to stay keen so he could spy on the nobles and determine if the Ball was actually held in good faith—for the benefit of the common folk.


He listened closely to Grigori’s answer, simply grateful that the cowboy was willing to share. But the topic had the worrisome effect of making Grigori seem distant. To stifle his anxiety, Aryth leaned over and continued to munch, all the while paying close attention to the details. ‘I guess I didn’t have it in me to enjoy such things until I left.’ There it was again, a tidbit of the tragedy that Aryth saw beneath the surface. What was it Grigori said the first time they met? He’d “witnessed something he wasn’t supposed to see,” or something along those lines. Aryth was so consumed with Grigori’s explanation that he didn’t even see the mans’ muzzle soaring straight toward his own. Their noses bumped softly, and Aryth gasped quietly, an involuntary reaction.


But Grigori did not pull away. Their eyes locked, misty grey and shimmering emerald. Their breath unfurled and intertwined with the tension of unspoken words. Aryth felt an electric shiver race down his spine and tingle through weakened limbs. Even his fur seemed to stand on end for a moment. For a beautiful, entrancing, mystifying moment, it was just the two of them in the entire world. Aryth could have sworn he heard Grigori say, “until I met you.”


Somewhere nearby, a loud noblewoman’s laugh echoed through the stone chamber. Aryth smiled and chuckled, standing straight and pulling away from his friend. “Thank you for sharing this meal with me. I better get ready to perform soon… And I don’t want to ruin your chance to experience the frivolity!” He winked. Glancing toward the stage and then back to Grigori, he shifted awkwardly on his paws. “Do you think we could meet up again later?”

code by claerie

@Grigori

Well, if that isn’t a surprise. Of course, Aryth has never struck him as indulgent or anything of the sort, but in the cowboy’s homeland it was almost like a rite of passage of sorts. In general, very few abstained so heavily, usually only the spiritual kind.. the trustworthy ones, anyway. After all, there are some priests who are more decadent than any mere mortal. “Hmm. I reckon might not be the best time to change that, then.” A sensible advice delivered with a knowing smirk. While it’s good to let loose sometimes, Grigori was no advocate for chaos, and he knew well that such first times can get spectacularly… messy, if nothing else. “But this city’s taverns do look pretty interestin’..” he mused. Something to consider on a different day, perhaps. It would be an entirely different perspective on Rionnach’s culture, compared to this Ball.

The moment they shared, though tantalizingly unfulfilling, was still as sweet as the ripest fruit. He could enjoy enduring it for an eternity, at least as long as the thought of one of them eventually having the courage to take a step further persisted. But when that obnoxious laugh rang, he almost jumped, startled, and the promising eternity shattered, leaving only frustration in its wake. Grigori straightened himself, glancing in the direction of the laughing woman, a heavy exhale leaving his lungs – just a hair’s width away from becoming a rumbling growl. In a way, he was surprised; though it was nothing new for his temper to be combustive, he couldn’t think of many items it was set off due to personal reasons rather than moral ones.

By the time he composed himself, Aryth was already talking about having to go. The blonde male’s expression became one of intense focus, it was the only way he could think of to hide his disappointment. An expression that could exactly be seen well regardless; clearly, relying on the skull mask that rested on his head was too efficient of a solution for him to consider. But then meeting up later was offered, and he felt himself relax and soften. “Of course. I gotta do my job of keepin’ the fans at bay, don’t I?” he smiled, referencing that old joke once more. “Go get ‘em, then. I’ll just finish up here first.” After a parting nod, he turned his attention to what remained of their food. If he had kept looking at Aryth, he probably wouldn’t be able to stop staring until the scholar fully disappeared into the crowd.


fin.„*”