Bloody Skies | By : TokiMirage Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 44832 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 4 |
Disclaimer: JKRowling owns Harry Potter. Everything else is mine. I do not make any money writing this fic. |
Bloody Skies
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Chapter Twenty-One:
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Cyrus watched the drama unfold in utter confusion. Silver poisoning? And what the heck was it with this werewolf threatening to eat them? That was just nasty.
Xanthir’s hands clenched at his sides. “I already told you, Alpha. Most healers don’t have the power necessary to heal this level of silver poisoning.”
“And yet here you stand before me after having been poisoned yourself. I have already sent a group to observe the mansion where you encountered the poison, and it has been abandoned. Two weeks after you broke into this place, we find the contaminant in our water supply! You are indirectly responsible for this!” His lips pulled back from his teeth, flashing sharp canines. “Why do you condemn pups in your own pack to die? Why will you not provide me the name of the healer who healed you?!” he boomed, voice echoing in the cavern dangerously.
Xanthir’s expression was completely blank with restrained anger. “If you had let me leave, I would have asked them if they would volunteer their services, but instead you’ve kept me here to try to get a name? What were you planning to do, drag them here against their will? What the hell kind of approach is that?! Why drag a reluctant healer here when you can have a willing one?!”
The Alpha growled, the low rumbles echoing in the space and sounding much louder than they actually were. “I couldn’t chance that he- or she- would say no, and you are well aware of that!”
Xanthir snarled. “You’ve been isolated from the rest of Other Realm society for too long, Uncle, if you believe that. Fully trained Healers are respected and rare. Healers that can heal multiple species even more so. You may have already irrevocably damaged relations that you have no awareness of because you acted so rashly-“
The Alpha moved faster than Cyrus’s eyes could see, slamming the other werewolf against the stone wall with a force that would have crushed a human’s bones instantly. As the two glared and growled at each other, Cyrus frowned. Xanthir hadn’t disclosed the human’s name to his pack? Was he worried that they would kidnap Cyrus? From the direction this argument was going, it seemed a likely possibility.
But Cyrus couldn’t in good conscience let children die if there was something he could do about it. He opened his mouth to speak, but Tara cut him off.
::Don’t be an idiot. You do not… get involved in werewolf pack politics.::
Cyrus scowled. It was times like these he wished he could communicate back.
~:The children.:~
Tara’s expression was completely blank. The human clenched his teeth in frustration. He needed her to understand him. His mind was already unburied. There had to be a way to get his point across to her. Closing his eyes, he focused on the sensation of when Tara communicated with him. Using his magic, he tried to make his ‘voice’ sound like hers.
::Ch… ren.::
Tara’s eyes widened. ::You spoke!::
::Children.::
He brought a hand up to his head in pain and released the magic. What the fuck was that? It felt like his brain had been trying to fit through a strainer.
::Hey, you okay? That looked like it hurt.::
Cyrus sent her a look. No, you think?
::Right. Children? What about them.::
Cyrus tried to convey what he wanted to say through his eyes, but it didn’t seem to work too well.
::You like kids? Anyway, Xanthir won’t let your name go, so don’t worry-::
~:Argh! No, I want to help them!:~
::Yeah, I didn’t get that. Just keep your mouth shut and I’ll get us all out of here safely.::
Cyrus wanted to hit something. Preferably Tara. She wasn’t stupid, so why the fuck wasn’t she getting his cues? Getting frustrated, he clenched his hands in the dirt. Looked like he’d have to try again. Closing his eyes, he almost let out a moan at the pain that spiked through his head. Oh Merlin.
::Want… to help.:: He cut the connection with a gasp, gripping his temples.
::You want to help them?!:: she asked incredulously. ::You don’t even know these werewolves. Xanthir’s… called the lot of them a bunch of assholes, too. He’s been… get free of this pack for ages. Why the hell would you want to help them?::
Cyrus glared at her, massaging his temples.
Tara glared back for a few seconds before she rolled her eyes. ::Fucking goddamned bleedin’ heart- Fine! Just, let me… damned talking.::
“Hey Alpha.”
The werewolf snarled at Xanthir a bit more before slamming him into the wall once more and stalking towards Tara. He tilted his head at the vampire. “Are you ready to give up some names?”
Tara rolled her eyes. “Well, before I do, I wanna make sure that you’re not gonna just kidnap them for the rest of their lives because you don’t have a competent healer. Or give their name up to another pack or put them in danger. Can you make that sort of promise?”
The Alpha’s eyes narrowed. “It is my job as Alpha to ensure the safety of my pack.”
Tara snorted. “If you’d really been plannin’ on keepin’ your pack safe, you would’ve gotten a contract with the Aengar by now.”
A growl echoed through the room. “Unfortunately, not every pack is capable of promising sufficient goods in order to secure a contract.”
She frowned. “Why not?”
“We do not have the resources. Most of our pack members only make enough money to support our community, and we are not farmers. We have nothing of value to trade.”
“Why can’t you trade blood? That’s what they’re most interested in.”
“I have been told that they already have sufficient quantities of werewolf blood being traded. We have nothing else to offer of value. So, will you give me the name of this healer or not?”
Tara raised an eyebrow. “Only if you answer my original question. Are you going to let them go after they finish or are you going to keep them here or kidnap them again at a later date? I think you could work something out if you’re reasonable. But keeping us locked up here isn’t exactly going to put you in their good books.” She grinned.
The Alpha stared at her intensely for a few moments before glancing at Xanthir. “Very well. I give you my word that the healer will be treated well during their stay here, will not be forced to remain, will not be kidnapped in the future… and that we will not distribute their name or put them in danger. Does that satisfy you?”
Tara and he had a staring match for a nearly half a minute before she finally nodded. “You might wanna help your new healer off the dirt floor. And be gentle! I think you mighta roughed him up a bit.”
The Alpha spun around and stared at Cyrus, who was indeed still sitting on the ground. His legs were a bit sore, but there was no lasting damage. The look of surprise on the werewolf’s face was indeed amusing, though Cyrus didn’t let his mouth so much as twitch.
Tara had no such compunction.“You? You’re the one who healed Xanthir?”
Cyrus nodded.
The werewolf nodded and grabbed him by the shoulders, lifting him to his feet as if he weighed nothing. “Keep the vampire restrained. Xanthir, you’re coming with us.”
Cyrus let himself be gently prodded and nudged in the right direction, not quite comfortable with how much the werewolf touched him. Finally, after the fifth flinch, the hands went away and were replaced by voiced instructions. When they finally came to a room farther into the cave systems, the Alpha went inside first, giving Cyrus a look that the human couldn’t quite decipher. Wasn’t quite sure he wanted to decipher. Instead, he focused on the task ahead of him.
With his luck, he was going to be stuck here for the next week trying to heal kids. Or he was going to fall sick again.
“Um…” he began tentatively, not sure exactly how much he should mention about his… nearly dying. “I’ve just recently recovered from some injuries myself, so I’m not sure I’m going to be able to completely heal everyone today. I may have to work out some sort of daily visit… type… scenario…” He trailed off, staring into those extremely intense and inhuman eyes.
The Alpha leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “There are sixteen children in the next room who are all suffering from the most advanced case of silver poisoning I have ever come across. Three have already died.”
Cyrus bit his lip. The werewolf said nothing about Cyrus being ill, so the human could only assume the Alpha had actually heard him.
“You will… I would like you to do your best to save all of them. If that requires multiple visits over the span of a week or longer, that is acceptable. Do you… require compensation for this?” The muscles in his bare chest flexed, in order to intimidate or because of nervousness, Cyrus had no clue. Reading the Alpha was like trying to read cuneiform. He knew nothing about it.
“Er, no. Besides what Tara already covered.”
The Alpha’s eyebrows rose. “Really? No money, no favors, no nothing? I find it hard to believe you would heal sixteen children for no payment whatsoever.”
Cyrus shrugged. “I don’t need money, and I’m hardly going to let them all die. That would just be… wrong.” The Alpha stared at him oddly, as if he were a new species of bug he’d never squashed before. It was disconcerting. “So… the next room? I’d like to get started.”
The werewolf said nothing and opened the door next to the wall he’d been leaning against. He swung it open and watched Cyrus expectantly.
Mentally shrugging, the human walked into the room and was immediately shocked by the smell of sickness. There were currently three people going around the room helping the kids to drink some water. Half the time they were puking it back up. They were just children… their bodies didn't even have the strength to fight off the poisoning.
“How are they doing, Macey?” the Alpha asked quietly from where he stood behind Cyrus.
One of the women looked up with a grimace. “Not good. We lost another one fifteen minutes ago.”
Cyrus tried to take in a calming breath, but the smell negated whatever calm it was supposed to provide. “How did it only get the kids? And so many of them,” he murmured softly to himself as he went to the kid closest to him. He could faintly hear Svea’s voice in the back of his head giving instructions on how to deal with large quantities of patients. He needed to update himself on their current conditions so he could figure out who was sickest, and treat them first. Placing his hand on the boy’s head and chest, he sent his energy into the body to detect exactly how far along the degradation had progressed.
“They were playing by the creek. We often drink from it, but we keep stores of water inside the caves as well. Most of the adults drink from there, rather than open water. We had no idea it had been contaminated,” the Alpha growled quietly, mindful of the children around him.
Cyrus grimaced, moving quickly through the room to assess them all. When he finished, he immediately moved to the smallest and youngest, a little girl with blond hair clutching at a misshapen doll. He placed his hands on her chest. “I need someone here gathering the poison as I pull it from her body.”
“Macey?”
“Yes, Caylor,” the woman said softly, bringing a chair to the small bed. “Would you like to sit, Healer?”
Cyrus blinked and got off his knees to take the chair. “Oh, thanks, but I’m not an actual Healer. I’m a student.”
“But you healed Xanthir, did you not?” the Alpha, Caylor, cut in.
“Well, yes-“
“And you are going to heal all these children?”
“Well, I hope to-“
“Then we will call you Healer. Xanthir! I need a word with you.”
Cyrus glanced behind him to catch a glimpse of orange hair before the door closed behind them. Turning his attention back to the dying girl before him, he closed his eyes and put his hands back on her chest. Focusing first on her brain, he pulled the poison out as quickly as he could without hurting her. She whimpered softly, but didn't move or wake.
Carefully gauging his magic usage and how much he had left, he completely healed the little girl and sent her into a deep sleep. “When she wakes up, she should feel as right as rain,” he said to the woman beside him. She nodded, tightly gripping the bowl of poison in her hands.
“Unfortunately, I’m not going to be able to heal them all tonight, not unless…” He frowned. It was possible, wasn’t it? They had fed him magic before. Kind of like giving him a blood transfusion.
“Not unless?” Macey was looking at him both in concern and wonder.
Cyrus shifted nervously and moved his chair to the next worst patient. “Well, it’s a long shot. But either way, I’m not sure if I’ll have the mental stamina to do it. This procedure requires a lot of concentration and is very taxing. We’ll see how I am in a bit.”
He managed to heal the three children who were the most sick in a few hours, but he was sweating like crazy and beginning to tire. After that he started cleaning out the vital organs of all the other children, not wanting one of them to die while he recovered. By the time he got to the last one, he was dead on his feet and ravenous. And his body wasn’t liking him for it. He collapsed against one of the walls, absently drinking a little of the water Macey brought him. When he tried to eat some bread and cheese, though, he ended up puking it into a bucket. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes for a moment.
“-rus? Cyrus? I saw those eyes twitching. Anybody home?” Tara’s familiar voice cut through his tired haze. He could feel her shaking him, so he peaked open an eye and made a questioning grunt. Was he in a bed? Last he remembered he was puking against the wall. “Oh good, you’re awake. You’ve been sleeping for five hours. Macey insists you need water and something in your stomach. Why didn’t you stop for breaks, you idiot?! Standard healing procedure! Arg, I oughta throw you in a box somewhere to keep you from killing yourself,” she muttered to herself.
“What’s wrong with him? I haven’t seen a healer become physically ill from a healing before,” Macey asked softly.
“What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with him? I’ll tell you what’s wrong with him! He nearly died two weeks ago, and his body is still recovering from a massive shock! They still don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with him, and here you are asking him to heal fifteen children from poisoning. I’m surprised he has any magic left at all!”
“Not done yet,” Cyrus croaked out, and immediately found himself with a glass of water held against his lips. He gingerly took a sip and pushed himself upright, rubbing at his aching head. Fuck. He felt like shit. His stomach growled. “Got any food?” he asked Macey.
She nodded and quickly went to a sack against the wall. She pulled a small loaf of bread from it and brought it back to him with a smile. Nodding in thanks, he ripped off a small piece and began gingerly chewing, not wanting a repeat of earlier. The taste of acid in his mouth was disgusting, but he wasn’t going to waste magic in cleaning it out.
“Whaddya mean you’re not done yet?” Tara barked unhappily. Macey shot her a dark look as some of the kids in the room started shifting in their sleep.
Cyrus caught on to the werewolf’s irritation. Before Macey could say anything, which would probably have incensed Tara further, he softly ordered, “Tara. Keep it down.”
She glared at him for a moment before crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine,” she muttered. “Now answer the damned question.”
Cyrus sighed and took the glass of water Macey held out to him. “I didn’t have enough magic or concentration to finish. My reserves are nearly depleted. I got a little back in my sleep, but not enough to finish.” He sighed. “I was hoping you’d be able to help with that. Can you do that magic transfer thing?”
Tara’s eyebrows rose. “Well… I suppose I could. I refuse to until you’ve gotten a full twelve hours sleep, though.”
Cyrus shook his head. “No, give it to me now. I want to be sure it’s absorbed and converted into my own magic before I start healing again tomorrow. I’ve made sure all the kids are stable enough to survive for about a day.” He turned to Macey. “If one of them starts failing, though, I want you to wake me up.”
She narrowed her eyes pensively, and he returned to chewing on his bread, trying not to yawn. He really was dead tired.
“Fine,” Tara finally conceded, not looking at all happy about it. Nonetheless, she plunked herself down on the side of his bed and starting making the transfer.
“I don’t mean to…” Macey began hesitantly. Tara paid her no mind, but Cyrus looked at her curiously. “I mean, I don’t mean to say that… I thought it was impossible to transfer magic between species? That vampire magic was different than human?”
Cyrus nodded. “It is. I’m just… different than most humans.” When he gave no indication of explaining further by shoving another piece of bread in his mouth, she nodded and let the subject drop.
Tara finished the transfer just as his stomach decided it didn’t want any more bread, so Cyrus thanked her and shimmied back under the covers. He fell asleep within minutes.
When he woke up again, it was under his own power rather than the shaking hand of someone else. Soft voices murmured, but he couldn’t seem to make out what they said. Letting out a big yawn, he sat up and pushed off the covers, rubbing the grit from his eyes and checking his magical stores. He had about a quarter filled now, as more had regenerated in his sleep. He figured it’d be enough to finish the poison removal.
“Healer! You’re awake,” Macey said softly, coming to his side with a glass of water. He accepted it with a croaked ‘thanks’ and guzzled it down. He was definitely feeling a lot better in comparison to last time.
“Where’s Tara?” he asked, glancing around the room. A few of the children were awake and eating, though a few still looked quite sick.
“She’s with Xanthir.”
Cyrus nodded. “Can you let her know I’m awake and I hope to be finished up here in a few more hours?”
Macey nodded and quietly went to the door. She spoke softly with someone on the other side before returning.
Cyrus slowly pushed himself to his feet, checking his balance. He felt gross. Gauging that he probably had enough magic for a cleansing charm, he pulled out his phoenix wand and tapped his head. The spell felt a lot like ants running all over his skin, but he felt a lot better afterwards. Pulling on his basilisk skin boots, he cast a surveying eye over the children. “Who’s the sickest at the moment?”
Macey pointed to the corner. “Ainel hasn’t started vomiting again, but she hasn’t been able to walk like the other children.”
Cyrus nodded and went to the bed.
The little girl looked up at him hopefully. “Are you going to fix me?” she asked softly, nervously pulling at the sheets.
Cyrus smiled. “That’s right. In about half an hour, you’ll be feeling all better. Do you think you can lay still for that long?”
She nodded with the cutest little determined look on her face. Cyrus couldn’t help but smile. She was a brave little werewolf.
He sat in the chair Macey brought to him and got to work.
After Cyrus finished healing the last of the children, and they’d given him an enthusiastic ‘goodbye’, Macey herded him back to the main chamber where both Tara and Xanthir were waiting for him. Along with Caylor.
“You’re done? All of them?”
Cyrus nodded, not sure whether or not to feel insulted by the look of surprise and disbelief on Caylor’s face. “I’d like to come back in a few days, though, to check up on them. I don’t think I missed anything, but you never know. Each patient is different. One of them might have complications from such long exposure to the poison. There’s always the problem of lasting tissue damage, too. I can heal that, and I have healed most of it, but it’s best to leave the healings for a few days to see if their bodies can completely recover on their own first.”
The Alpha nodded, leaning back in his chair. Or was it throne? “I would be… grateful to have you back. Xanthir will bring you in three days.” Caylor gave the other werewolf a look and the Shikaan student bowed his head slightly in acquiescence. “Thank you,” he finally said, a little stilted.
Cyrus nodded in acknowledgement, rather surprised that Caylor was being so… placid. From what Tara had been saying, he was a real dick. But then he remembered the first time they’d met… was it because he was considered a ‘healer’ in their eyes now?
“The three of you may leave.”
Tara snagged them both by the elbows and pulled them into the shadows of the dimly lit cave, taking them back to Shikaan. They appeared in Xanthir’s room, and immediately Cyrus went about plundering Xanthir’s cold box. The werewolf ate enough off his own table that he was sure it wasn't a huge problem. To his surprise, however, there was next to nothing in it. Did Xathir only eat at the Main Hall and with Cyrus then? Making a thoughtful and disappointed hum, he went back into the main living area. Tara and Xanthir were talking quietly to each other.
Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “What’s up?”
They both looked up. Tara shot a glance at the werewolf, but Xanthir kept his eyes on Cyrus. Finally, it was Tara that spoke. “Well, we’ve been talking about the ramifications of you healing most of the children in the pack.”
The human frowned. “Ramifications? What kind of ramifications?”
Tara moved over to the bed and perched herself on the frame at the foot of the bed. “Well… you could say there’s some bad blood between Caylor and Xanthir…” she trailed off and looked at the werewolf uncomfortably.
Xanthir was scowling. “My father used to be Alpha until Uncle killed him to take his position. I’ve been trying to get out of the pack ever since, but Caylor won’t let me. So I was hoping to get out by apprenticing to my other Uncle in warding. Once I can get a job and support myself, it’ll be easier for me to leave.”
Cyrus’s mouth fell open. “He killed your…” Well… fuck. That… there weren’t even words to describe how much that sucked. “But he was so… why was he so nice to me then? I mean, if he’s this complete dick like you say, and I’m not saying that he’s not, I just…” He trailed off awkwardly.
The werewolf crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re the unofficial healer of the pack, now. Of course he’s going to be nice to you. He wants you to come back! With the limitations Tara established in your contract, he-“
“Wait, contract? What?”
“When Tara told him he couldn’t kidnap you and all that stuff she was bargaining with him. So you have a contract with the pack now. They can’t give out your name, hurt you, force you to stay and be their healer, or kidnap you. So the only way Caylor is going to be able to get you to come back and help them out is if he’s nice to you and finds something that he can bargain with for your services. In fact, he should have already bargained with you, so why don’t you already know this?”
Cyrus’s mouth fell open, and he floundered for a few moments. “W-wha-we-what the hell! I never made any contract with him! He asked me what I wanted to heal the fifteen kids and I told him I didn’t want anything. I never said that I’d keep coming back!”
Xanthir nodded. “He’s probably going to wait until you return in three days to say anything. But he will try to make a deal with you. Competent Healers are expensive and rare, and there aren’t many werewolves that have the right kind of temperament to become one. There are more fae and elves in the profession. So when he tries to set up a contract with you, be careful. He might try to trick you into agreein’ to somethin’ that you won’t wanna do.”
Cyrus let out a frustrated breath of air. It was never ending. What was it with these people and making deals and favors and all this contract crap? Tara did it all the time, but he’d thought it was a vampire thing, not an… Other Realm thing. “Alright. Fine. Thanks for the heads up.” He ran a hand through his hair and caught sight of Xanthir and Tara exchanging looks out of the corner of his eye. Whatever. He just didn’t want to think about this anymore.
And then Yalmireth chose that moment to walk through the door. Cyrus froze, hand in the middle of massaging some tension out of his neck.
The demon glanced at him, eyes a dark murky gray, before turning to Xanthir. “Xan, I am glad you’re back. Where were you Friday and Saturday?”
Xanthir chuckled nervously, glancing at both Tara and Cyrus and seeing the looks on their faces. “Ah, well. Pack business.”
The demon nodded. “I see. Would you like to study together?”
Cyrus, deciding he had better things to do than be ignored by a demon that used to be his friend, walked to the door and left. He was a few meters down the hallway when Xanthir called out to him. He turned around, face hard. He wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about… everything.
Xanthir jogged up to him, Tara not far behind walking at a more sedate pace. The werewolf grimaced at the look on his face. “Look, you’re both my friends, and I know Yalmireth is being a dick, but I don’t just abandon friends. I… I don’t have many, and… and your friendship means a lot to me.” He smiled half-heartedly. “Caylor beat the shit out of me for a day because I didn’t want to tell him your name.”
Cyrus’s hard shell cracked a bit. “Why didn’t you? Why not just tell him? Kids in your pack were dying. You can’t have held Caylor’s… situation against them.”
The werewolf looked torn. “I… I…”
After it looked like Xanthir couldn’t articulate what he wanted to say, Tara stepped in. “Look, Cyrus. He’s been on shaky terms with the pack for a long time, and you’re a friend to him. I know you don’t wanna hear this, but friends are higher on the list of priorities for Xanthir, not pack.”
Cyrus frowned. “So he would have just let fifteen kids die? Why didn’t he just make a deal like you did? One of them had already died during the time we were captured.”
Tara scowled. “Look, Cyrus. This is how it is in Other Realm. We can’t all have bleeding hearts like you do. It’s every man, woman, vampire, werewolf, fae for him or herself. Xanthir’s been estranged from his pack since he was six. People die everyday. You can’t save everyone, and if you try to, people will take advantage of you. This isn’t Human Realm. You need to get that in your head.”
Cyrus bit his lip and looked away. “I… I may be able to sort of see your side of things, but that doesn't mean that I’m going to just change my beliefs.”
Tara rolled her eyes and shook her head, but affection quirked her lips slightly. “Wouldn’t expect any less from you,” she said with a smirk.
Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “Good.”
Xanthir worried his lower lip with his teeth. “Are we good?” he asked hesitantly.
Cyrus just watched the werewolf for a moment. “So, you’re friends with both of us? Not taking sides?”
Xanthir shook his head rapidly. “Nope. Not taking sides.”
Cyrus chewed on his lip. “Fine. I guess I can… get over it. I just wish he… arg. I don’t even want to talk about how much this whole situation irritates me.”
Xanthir smiled half-heartedly. “Yalmireth just isn’t used to… having friends. And when he thought someone else was… threatening to take away what he’s been working so hard for, he got angry.”
Cyrus scowled. “And why hasn’t he just apologized already? Water under the bridge?”
The werewolf winced. “Because he doesn’t think he’s in the wrong. And that’s the whole problem. I’ve tried to talk to him for the past two weeks, ever since I got out of the infirmary, but… He’s as stubborn as you are. Just… give him time. He’ll come around eventually.”
Cyrus crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah. Right. And I’ll just wait for that miraculous day. I have homework to do, so I’ll see you later Xanthir.” He turned around and stalked off, feeling even more agitated than when he originally escaped the room.
Footsteps had him craning his head around, and he saw Tara watching him with a weird expression on her face as she trailed behind him. He mentally shrugged and kept walking until he’d reached his room. He unlocked it with a twist of magic and let Tara close it, his mind focused on his kitchen. He grabbed an apple and started munching angrily on it, staring through the window in his kitchen out onto the grounds below.
There was still snow on the ground, and he could see a few snowball wars in full swing outside. Shikaan snowball fights were some of the most brutal he’d ever seen. After all, every student was trained to some degree in tactics and battle scenarios. They probably thought of this as training but were actually enjoying themselves, for once, since Welkins wasn’t there breathing fire down their necks. He’d yet to take part in one himself, as most of the students weren’t human and tended to throw their snowballs really hard and hide rocks inside. He’d rather not lose an eye or get a concussion, thanks.
Taking in a slow breath, he let his eyes half-lid to block out some of the bright light reflecting off the snow below. He could smell the frost on the air from his window, could almost imagine the taste of it adding to the crisp sweetness of the apple he chewed. He breathed. Maybe if he stared out the window long enough the world would take a hike and leave him alone for a day.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and he flinched away, dropping his half-eaten apple onto the ground and backing himself into the corner by the stove unit by accident. Green and red eyes met in a silent staring contest before Tara’s face screwed up in determination.
“You’ve been doing that for a long time now. I didn’t say anything because I was hoping you’d open up and share it yourself. Obviously you need a little prodding.”
Cyrus went for his best ‘I have no clue what you’re talking about’ look.
Tara’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been flinching ever since… that thing with Yankovich before the Akkad interrogation. What the hell happened?”
Cyrus glared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She scowled. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. Stop hiding things! You suck at it!”
Wasn’t that bloody ironic. “I’m not hiding anything!”
She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “Yes you are! Do you have any idea the kind of consequences this kind of problem can lead to?! Shikaan students will notice, and they will take advantage of it! By flinching at touch you portray yourself as weak, and at this school you could get yourself killed! So tell me what the fuck is wrong so I can-“
“NOTHING’S WRONG!” he shouted, his magic exploding and shattering the window with the abrupt wave of pressure. Below, the snowball war stopped for a moment, but Cyrus wasn't paying attention to that. He had grabbed Tara’s wrists and was trying to pull her off him. When the vampire didn’t budge in the wake of the power and anger churning around him, he let out a frustrated yell. “GET OFF!!”
“Not until you tell me!” she yelled right back.
Already tired from the healing he’d done only an hour previous, it didn’t take long for Cyrus’s magic to sputter and die like a gas lantern low on fuel. As his magic weakened his body began to fail, and nausea curled up through Cyrus’s stomach until he was emptying the contents of which onto the floor. Tara dodged in time to miss the vomit, and cleaned it up before Cyrus collapsed to the ground and landed in it. On his hands and knees, the human tried to regain some kind of equilibrium.
Gasping for air and head churning dizzily, he was unprepared for the hand that landed in his hair and started playing with the blond strands.
“I just want to help you, Cyrus,” Tara said quietly. “Let me.”
Cyrus snorted bitterly. “What’s there to help? How do you help with something like this, Tara?”
She was silent for a moment, probably trying to hold back a normal snarky comment. “First off, you can tell me what happened to you to make you like this.”
Cyrus closed his eyes and breathed, as his stomach still wasn’t sure what he felt about the hand in his hair. After a long pause, it finally decided to settle. “I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it.”
“If you don't, it’s not going to go away, Cyrus.”
“And how’s talking going to make it better?”
“It’s not an instant fix, Cyrus! But it’s the beginning of you moving past… whatever this is.”
The human took in a deep breath and let it out, trying to calm himself. He had to admit, the hand playing with his hair was starting to actually make him feel a little better. He knew Tara wouldn’t hurt him, and she was… a girl. A lesbian, as she had pointed out many times before. His lips twitched. He could remember her saying she wouldn’t have sex with him even if she were paid to do it. It made him feel a little better.
They stayed like that for a while, and eventually Tara complained about a crick in her neck and moved them through the shadows to the bed. She sat back against the headboard, put his head in her lap, and wouldn’t let him move an inch. Finally, he just gave in to her stubbornness and let his hair be pet like a dog. It was humiliating, but there wasn’t anyone else there to see it, and eventually he started feeling more comfortable with the warm skin under his cheek and the hand playing with his hair. It was… relaxing, now that the nausea had faded. Every time the tingling fingers threatened to run all over his skin, he reminded himself it was Tara, she was a girl, and she wasn’t attracted to him. For some reason, it seemed to help.
After what felt like hours but was probably only half an hour, he opened his mouth. “Yankovich wanted… needed someone to help power a raising. Do you know anything about… that British Dark Lord going around killing people?”
“Hmmm… Yeah. I’ve read a few of those papers to keep updated,” she said, just as quietly as he had spoken.
“Well, he kidnapped Yankovich’s niece because the Necromancy Guild wouldn’t work for him. Then he ordered Yankovich to raise for him a thousand inferi, or he’d kill her.”
Tara snickered. “I bet Yankovich wasn’t too happy about that.”
Cyrus’s lips twitched. “Yeah. He did something that made the inferi go out of control. Voldemort was in for quite the surprise. Anyway, Yankovich brought me with him to the drop off point in case Voldemort went back on his word. I… I went to save Marianna, but… Death Eaters, I killed a lot of them, but I missed a few, and… they threatened to kill her if I didn’t back down. And then one of them… Macnair, he…”
Tara kept playing with his hair and waited patiently for him to get it out.
After a long struggle, Cyrus finally choked out, “He… he t-touched me…”
The hand in his hair stilled for a moment before continuing its lulling pattern. “How?” the vampire asked quietly, devoid of emotion.
“F-first it was… just my face, and then my ch-chest, and then he…” When he couldn’t seem to spit it out, he got frustrated with himself. Macnair had been dead for nearly a month, and yet he was still affecting Cyrus. “He touched… my… my…” He took a fortifying breath. “He touched my d-dick.”
Tara kept petting his hair. “Did he die a painful, gruesome death?”
Cyrus blinked in surprise and tilted his head to look up at her. Her face was completely serious. “I killed him, yeah. I… sank a dagger into his heart.”
Tara nodded. “It felt good, didn’t it?”
Cyrus opened his mouth to deny it, but nothing came out. He broke eye contact and turned his head to look at the foot of the bed again. Killing Macnair had been the first time he’d wanted to kill somebody so badly and actually done it. He’d wanted to kill Bellatrix that time in the Department of Ministries when she’d killed Sirius, but he hadn’t actually succeeded. He’d killed werewolves in Remus’s pack before his guardian had become the Alpha, and he hadn’t felt guilt, but he hadn’t felt such driving hatred and desire to kill then either.
Tara started playing with his hair again, and finally Cyrus could answer. “Yes,” he whispered.
“And he can never hurt you again. Because he’s dead, right?”
The human licked his lips. “Yes.”
“So why are you still afraid of him to this day?”
He opened his mouth to answer and couldn’t seem to come up with something to say.
“You flinch at touch, you’re afraid of the idea of being intimate with someone… are you going to let him rule your life forever? Are you going to let him taint the idea of sex with someone else? He’s dead. Gone. You watched him bleed out in front of your own eyes. So tell me, can he hurt you anymore?”
Cyrus bit his lip before finally saying, “No.”
“That’s right. And is touch a gross thing? You seem to like my hand in your hair.”
Cyrus didn’t say anything for a while, closing his eyes and focusing on that touch. No, it didn’t feel wrong anymore. Didn’t make him feel nauseous or want to puke. “No.”
“‘No’ you don’t like my hand in your hair or ‘no’ touch isn’t a gross thing?” she asked, amusement coloring her voice.
Cyrus’s lips twitched. “No, touch isn’t… isn’t a gross thing.”
“Good. This is a good start. So from now on I’m going to keep touching you until you stop flinching, ‘kay? And you should start letting Xanthir have some contact, too. Werewolves are a really touchy kind of species. He’s been freakin’ out for weeks now that the reason you keep flinchin’ is because you don't like him or somethin’ stupid.”
Cyrus craned his head around to frown up at her. “What? Why would he think that?”
“Because to a werewolf, bein’ able to touch someone is a sign of trust. So while intellectually he’s realized there’s somethin’ wrong that he doesn’t know about, as a werewolf he immediate thinks ‘Cyrus doesn’t trust me’.”
Cyrus blinked. “Oh.”
Tara grinned. “That's right, ‘oh’. Now, as I recall you put off a ‘non-date’ with the one hit Ashy wonder. You gonna phone him or what?”
The human blinked again, lips forming into an ‘o’. “Ah shit, I did forget about that.” He shifted around and pulled his magi-com out of his pocket. Since it was still on silent, he hadn’t noticed any calls while he was healing the werewolves in Xanthir’s pack. He had a missed call – no message – and two texts.
He opened the texts.
Hey Just wondering how U R. Is
everything OK?
Ashawyn
Its Sun morn, havent heard from U
In graveyard right now practicing.
Mik is being normal grumpy self.
Having trouble with what Im learning
now. Mik isnt very patient. Hope 2
hear from U soon.
Ashawyn
“Aaaw,” Tara cooed over his shoulder, and he shot her an annoyed look and started slowly plunking away at the keyboard. Why couldn't they just put letters in alphabetical order?
Hey. Back at Shikaan now. Everything
is okay. Not sure I have time for hike
this week. Havent started homework
yet for the weekend. Stressing me out.
Runes is evil right now. Going to have
tutor soon hopefully.
Cy
When he finally finished, he pressed the little ‘send’ button and watched the mini video that came up of a letter flying through swirls of magic. He put the magi-com on vibrate and put it on his little table. He couldn't wait to get out of his basilisk armor and clean it properly. Even after that cleaning spell, he felt dirty.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he told Tara, starting to take off his belts and pouches.
Tara nodded. “Alright. I’ll come by after so we can go to a late lunch. That sound good?”
Cyrus nodded. “Yeah. I’m starving.” He pulled off the skin-tight shirt and wasn't surprised to see that Tara had vanished during the small space of time he couldn’t see. Quickly stripping off the rest of his clothes, he went into the bathroom with plans to waste a good half hour of hot water.
Forty-five minutes later Cyrus walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and another one on his head. Sticking his hand on the panel on his trunk, he waited for it to fly open before climbing down the ladder. Most of his clothes were down here, and he felt like wearing something clean and not battle-oriented for a day. Digging through the dresser, he dropped the towel and slipped into a pair of underwear. Rubbing his hair viciously to get rid of most of the water, he dropped it onto the ground too and started rifling through the unfolded clothes for something to wear. Eventually he settled on a pair of loose jeans and a T-shirt. Today was his comfort day, he decided.
A knock sounded at his door and he swore, grabbing a pair of boots that he’d bought on a shopping trip a while back and some socks. Climbing up the ladder, he tossed the boots and socks onto the floor and closed the trunk behind him. “Just a minute!” he called just before he nearly tripped over the pile of basilisk armor on the ground. “Ouch,” he grumbled to himself, rubbing his foot against his leg as he answered the door.
Ashawyn stood on the other side, and Cyrus didn’t really know why he was surprised. Ashawyn was the only one who knocked. “Hey,” he said with a sheepish little wave. “Mind if I come in?”
Cyrus shook his head and held the door open, closing it behind the ice fae after he walked inside. Turning around, he saw the fae smiling.
“Wow, you really did just get back.”
Cyrus nodded, ruffling a hand over his messy hair that was only half-dry. It was probably spiking and fluffing all over the place. “Yeah. Took a shower.”
Ashawyn smiled. “So I smell.”
Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “You can smell that stuff?”
The fae pointed to his nose. “Advanced senses. For fae it’s more for our… hormone thing, as Tara might say. Our ears are a bit more sensitive than a human’s but not by much, and our eyes are similar to yours but some of us can see the flows of magic to some extent.”
Cyrus’s eyebrows rose. “Really? You can see magic? That’s cool.”
“Sometimes. Like any gift, there are disadvantages.”
The human nodded. “Me and Tara are going to a late lunch in a bit. Want to come?”
Ashawyn nodded, smiling. “That’d be wonderful!”
Cyrus smiled and led the way.
oOo
Lunch and supper on Sunday were pretty awkward. Cyrus did his best to avoid Yalmireth for the most part, as he didn't really want to confront him about everything. He kept strong in his resolve that if Yalmireth wanted to be friends, he’d have to get over whatever was bothering him – whether it be jealousy or some other logic Cyrus didn’t understand.
Monday passed smoothly enough except for Animagus class. Just like on Friday, he found he had made no progress. In fact, he was starting to think he was regressing. It was with this worry that he approached Instructor Catchpool, the twin sister of his Wandless Magic professor.
“What are you saying exactly?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed.
Cyrus sighed and glanced around at the other students. With a thought, he put up a privacy spell. “I feel like… before I felt like I was at least looking for something during all that meditation. Typical foggy bits, impressions, but nothing concrete like you say I should have found by now. I thought Friday might just be an off day, but now it’s the same! I feel like there’s nothing there to be found anymore.” He let out a frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair. This class was an endless frustration for him. He’d been thinking of just dropping it entirely for months now, but the hope that he could transform into an animal had stayed his decision. But now he was beginning to doubt himself again.
Catchpool’s frown deepened. “I checked you myself a month ago, Mr. Obsidian, the last time you came to me about dropping the class. You have an animal, you’re just having trouble finding it.”
Cyrus shook his head. “Can you just check again? Please?”
She let out an impatient huff, but put her fingers to his forehead. After a moment, she frowned. “This is odd. Do you have Occlumency shields up? Occasionally they keep things related to the mind hidden. It didn’t hide it last time, but shields, like people, change and develop over time.”
Cyrus closed his eyes and fell into his magic. Finding his mind, he brought it up into its rightful place and hit the clasp. He opened his eyes again. “Is it there now?”
Catchpool, eyes still closed, said nothing for a moment. Her frown deepened. “This is impossible,” she muttered to herself, obviously getting frustrated. “I know you have a form. I saw the potential for it. Where the hell is it?”
Cyrus’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the cuss.
She finally opened her eyes, a stormy look on her face. “For some reason, it seems you’re right. You have no animagus form anymore. Did something happen in the last couple months that could explain it?”
Where did he start? “I… I don’t know. There’s… I mean, we don’t even know if…” Cyrus sighed. He didn’t really want to explain everything to her. “You know what, I think I’ll just drop the class. There’s no point in my being here if I don’t have an animagus form anymore. Thanks for your help, Instructor.”
Catchpool watched him with a pensive look on her face. “Very well, Mr. Obsidian. I’ll pull you from the class.”
He nodded and left, feeling empty inside. Ever since he’d found out about the marauders in third year, and how his dad had been a stag, he’d always found the idea of being able to turn into an animal fascinating. And now he couldn’t do it anymore. It felt… he felt just a little empty at the thought.
oOo
Cyrus was bummed out all Monday night, even with Ashawyn and Tara trying to cheer him up during dinner. His mood got a little better, however, when Soterios finally got in contact with him. She ended up sending him a text telling him to meet her at the library at seven that night. She also mentioned some form of payment.
He just hoped it wouldn’t be something that he couldn’t give, or reeeally didn’t want to give. Apparently among vampires it wasn’t that odd to use sex as a form of payment. Cyrus himself found the whole system rather… unappealing.
“Obsidian, I take it?”
Cyrus, who had been standing near the desk in the main study area, turned his head slightly and caught sight of a tall woman with endlessly curly, dirty blond hair and intense blue eyes. Inhuman blue eyes. They reminded him of the way the ocean turned blue-green on the whitest of tropical beaches. Not that he’d ever gone to the beach, but the Dursleys had had postcards and pamphlets for their ‘dream vacations’ floating around.
“Yeah, that’s me. Soterios?”
She nodded succinctly, expression business-like and uninterested as she motioned him to follow her. “Yes. Rivehn has informed me that you wish to have a tutor for Runes. Is there anything in particular you’re having trouble with?”
Cyrus bit his lip. “Transfiguration, mostly. Everything else I’ve managed to figure out so far, but this is giving me a lot of trouble and now we’re moving on to new things in class.”
“I see. You are aware that the marks devoted to transfiguring runes on the final exam are minimal?”
He nodded. “Yes, but I’m not taking the course just to pass a final exam.”
They finally came to a stop in a small nook in the library, and she sat down, placing her book bag on the table and starting to pull books out. “Why are you taking the course, then?” she asked as she started flipping through one of her books, not looking at him at all.
Cyrus sat down and thought about his answer. He couldn’t exactly tell her he had rune sight, could he. “I’m thinking of going on and apprenticing in it. I haven’t decided yet, but I really like the course and… well, normally I’m quite good at it.”
Her lips twitched and she finally looked up. “Except when it comes to Transfiguration.”
Cyrus grinned half-heartedly. “Yeah.”
She pushed the book towards him and he glanced down at the page. “What do you see?” she asked, pointing to an array stretched across most of the page.
He frowned and chewed on his lip in thought. “Well, it’s a transfiguration array?”
“Which kind?”
“Um, do you mean is it the result or the state?”
Soterios sighed. “We do have a long way to go. What do you know of Mardiv, Jeosi, and Balt?”
His mouth fell open a bit as he floundered for an answer. The names seemed familiar. “Umm… they were… Runes Masters?”
“Close. One of them is still alive, however. There are countless people throughout history that would like to think they created the art of Transfiguration, but no one actually knows who started it all. Those three people, however, were the ones that turned a haphazard technique that often didn't work or backfired into an art form. Mardiv was the first to research Transfiguration spells and figure out how they worked. Out of the spells he studied, he created a standard formula that has been used as the basis of most Transfiguration spells today. He is the one who created the state, execution, and result sequences of an array. The state describes the current object to be transfigured, the result is what you want it to become, and the execution is the sequence of runes that makes the actual transfiguration take place. You’ve covered this in class, yes?”
Cyrus nodded. “Yeah. For some reason it’s just not clicking, though.”
She blinked. “Click? Ah, you’re not understanding. You seem to be the kind of person to figure out why everything works, yes? If you want to be able to master creating transfigurations, you need to understand each formula, how they work, and how you can change them depending on the result you want. Now, back to the Mardiv array. While he separated each section of the array, often the spell would still fail to work. Jeosi later discovered laws that rule the physical realm, as she was a Runes Master that also had a fascination with alchemy during the time when it was still considered an art. For the most part it has been abandoned due to its limitations. However, one of the concepts she pulled from this art was ‘equivalent exchange’. That is, what you put into something is what you get out of it. Thus, she tried to break those rules through magic, and she succeeded. Her sequences are used for spells in which you would, for example, change a rock into a large mound of dirt, or a butterfly into a horse. A butterfly into a horse is a bit more complicated, but I’ll get into that at another time.
“Lastly there is Balt, a master of Runes and Transfiguration. He is still alive. He has been expanding the capabilities of Transfiguration for the past hundred years or so, creating dozens of books of spells that are taught in classes today. He probably has the broadest understanding of Transfiguration out of anyone alive, and he continues to break the rules that many have accepted as fact long ago.
“Now, if you want anything beyond a basic understanding of Mardiv’s formulas, you need to buy this book and start studying from it. Balt himself wrote it in the beginning of his career. It teaches Mardiv concepts, Jeosi concepts, as well as some Balt concepts. He also includes changes to the past scholars’ works, along with his reasoning.”
Cyrus pulled out a piece of paper and closed the book in order to see the title. He wrote down the title and author, as well as the publisher in case he needed to go hunt it down. He had a feeling this was going to be tedious, difficult work. Hopefully it would pay off.
“I’m not charging you anything for this first session, but it will be a galleon an hour from now on. I guarantee you will have questions on this material. It’s hard to understand even with the way Balt breaks it down and explains each concept. If you wish to contact me for a lesson, here is my magi-com number.” She slipped him a scrap of paper with her number written on it. “I have some work to do, so I have to leave now.”
Cyrus nodded and stood up as she did. “Thanks.”
She inclined her head and put her book bag back on her shoulder, leaving the library by walking into the shadow of a bookshelf. Huh. Apparently she was a vampire.
He wondered what clan. Maybe Tara knew her?
Shrugging away his thoughts, he put the number in his magi-com. If he had to go shopping, he might as well get some other things he’d been thinking about buying for a while now. Like that Linmeyelle Mikhail had used to store his death magic. Not that he knew where to get it.
Maybe Ashawyn could help with that. He sent off a quick text asking Ashawyn to meet him at his room if he was free and then disapparated from the library with a nearly silent pop.
Cyrus spent the next few minutes in his room, getting dressed for a trip to Gemini Square. He was just pulling on his basilisk-skin shirt when a knock sounded at the door. Swearing under his breath – it almost seemed as if the shirt was getting tighter with each day – he yelled for them to come in.
As he expected, it was Ashawyn, and he tried not to blush as the ice fae stared at his some-what defined chest as he tried to pull the shirt on. “What?” he asked defensively, finally realizing he was well and truly stuck. So far the skin had been stretching with him, so he didn’t understand how his muscle mass could have grown so much in the past three weeks that it wouldn’t fit anymore.
Ashawyn smiled abashedly. “Sorry, it’s just… you look so cute all ruffled like that.” At the annoyed look on Cyrus’s face, he cleared his throat. “Ah, I mean, it looks like your armor’s getting too small for you. Why don’t you buy a new outfit?”
Cyrus let out a disgusted noise and tried to pull the shirt back off. In the end, Ashawyn had to help him. After they’d finally got it off, the ice fae stopped for a moment and just looked over Cyrus’s chest. The human found himself blushing, but not nearly as uncomfortable as he would have been a few weeks ago.
“It does seem that you’re gaining more muscle than before. Did your teacher increase the regimen?”
Cyrus let out a frustrated breath. “No! And that’s exactly why this is so frustrating. Why is my body all of a sudden doing all these weird things?”
Ashawyn’s lips twitched. “Late puberty?” At the scathing look Cyrus sent him, he laughed. “But seriously, you could be having a growth spurt. It’s not that unusual.”
Cyrus looked up at Ashawyn. “I’m not getting any taller.”
The fae shrugged. “There are other kinds of growth besides how tall you get. You’re sixteen, right? There’s plenty of time for you to fill out.”
Cyrus sighed. Ashawyn did have a point. Maybe he was just finally growing a bit. “Damnit. Now I need to buy new armor. And this book I need for Runes, and- Hey Ashawyn, do you know what a Linmeyelle is?”
The apprentice blinked. “Yes. Mikhail uses them to store his death magic. He always has a few on him, some charged and some not, just in case he needs them.”
“Right. Well, he said they’re really expensive or rare or something. Is that true?”
“Well… It depends on what kind of deal you have set up with the person crafting them. Mikhail supplies the crafter with the materials, so the crafter only charges him for labor. He still pays around 50 galleons per stone, though.”
Cyrus hummed thoughtfully. Last he knew he had a lot of money in his trust account. It would be useful to get one, even if it was expensive. If he needed more he could always come to some sort of deal with the crafter like Mikhail had. “Where do I buy one?”
Ashawyn’s eyebrows rose. “You have 100 gallons for a Linmeyelle?”
Cyrus nodded. “I think it would be useful to have one.”
“Why? Why would you need one?”
“I have horrible control, as you probably already know. Mikhail suggested draining some of my death magic to make it easier to control.”
Ashawyn frowned. “That’s only a temporary solution. Have you been practicing control exercises? Like raising animals?”
It was Cyrus’s turn to frown. “You know, that’s what Yankovich told me to do. Mikhail said it was… well, he doesn’t seem to like Yankovich.”
Ashawyn snorted. “No. Mikhail is very good at what he does, and as a result, he’s very arrogant. Yankovich and he have been in a rivalry for ages. Thing is, Yankovich doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him, and he studies and practices to better himself, not to get better than other people. Mikhail on the other hand… he wants to be the best in the Guild. It… makes things awkward sometimes. Don’t disregard what Yankovich says just because Mikhail doesn’t like him. I have to be objective too, even though I’m his student. Personally, I think Yankovich is a better teacher.”
Cyrus’s eyebrows rose. “What? Really?”
Ashawyn grinned. “Well, he did get a job at Shikaan. And your school doesn’t hire just anyone. There’s a reason it’s so expensive, cut throat, and damn hard to survive.”
Cyrus frowned. “Expensive? How much does it cost?”
“Well, I think the first year is the cheapest. One, there are always more first years than any other year. Two, it’s sort of the ‘testing’ year to see if you even like the school. Just as many people drop out of first year as those that die. Three, they increase the price as you go up in years and the education gets more specialized. Those are some of the reasons I decided not to come here in the end.”
“How much is tuition?”
Ashawyn stared off in thought. “Let’s see… it was about the same as my school for first year, so… 600 galleons.”
Cyrus’s eyebrows rose. That was 6000 pounds. As far as he knew he hadn’t paid anything. Had Severus or Remus covered the cost? Neither of them could get into his accounts, after all. He’d have to remember to ask them about it when he visited next.
“So, if you’re going to go shopping for a Linmeyelle… you’ll probably need me to show you where to go for the best deal. Mind if I come with you?”
Cyrus blinked and then frowned in thought. “I guess… You don’t mind tagging along for the book and armor?”
Ashawyn smiled. “I’d be happy to help you look for a good set of armor.”
Cyrus’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You just want to see me in tight-fitting clothes.”
The fae shrugged. “Guilty.”
The human rolled his eyes and shook his head, but the thought still didn’t bother him as much as it might have a few weeks ago. During the time he’d hung out with Ashawyn, he hadn’t been able to deny that he was attractive. And now that the fae wasn’t getting in his face all the time about… well, everything, he was finally starting to warm up to the guy a bit beyond… ‘friend’. But he still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of… well, the touching part of… sex.
Ah shit, now he was starting to get a hard on. Sometimes being a guy just sucked. “Before we go, I just have to use the bathroom. Do you need to pick up anything from your rooms?” he asked, already walking towards the bathroom. Basilisk pants didn’t hide lumps very well, after all.
Ashawyn shook his head, but there was an amused curve to his lips. “No, I have everything.”
After Cyrus had taken care of his little ‘problem’, they went to Gemini Square first. Cyrus had a bitch of a time trying to find the book – it had been published around eighty years ago, after all – but he did finally locate it in a quaint little bookshop pointed out by Ashawyn. Apparently he knew the little old lady who owned it, and Cyrus ended up wandering around and finding a bunch of other books to buy while the two caught up. He didn’t mind, really. Not after he found a really obscure book written by Rivehn over two hundred years ago about the correlations of Runes and wild magic.
Next they went to a seamstress that specialized in battle robes, armor, dresses, muggle street clothes – you name it she could make it.
One problem. She didn’t speak a word of English.
“Um, I think she’s trying to ask whether or not you want… uija mollatrei? I have no idea what that word means,” Ashawyn said helplessly, looking between the two of them with a totally confused expression on his face.
Cyrus sighed. “Can you ask her if she has a catalogue? Something we can point out and say yes or no?”
Ashawyn stumbled through something that sounded far less elegant coming out of his mouth than the lady’s. Eventually, her eyes lit up in recognition, and she motioned them to follow her into the back of her shop, barking something at the boy behind the counter before she did.
She dropped a huge book onto the workroom table and flipped open the cover as if it were as light as paper. The book was huge. She pointed to the first page, which had an array of pictures and chunks of fabric beneath them. Cyrus whistled at the number of options he apparently had open to him. Problem was, he didn’t know what was good.
“Can you ask her what’s durable and will stretch as I grow? I don’t want to buy a new outfit only for it to not fit in two months.”
As Ashawyn tripped over his own words trying to explain to her what Cyrus wanted, the human started looking over the different fabrics and skins. They were fascinating, really. So many options available. And some of them looked so delicate, but the only way they could be in this book was if they could be made into battle armor.
“She said there are a handful of options that fit what you want. Some more expensive than others.”
Cyrus turned his attention back to the lady. “Which ones?”
Ashawyn translated and the lady started pointing and giving short explanations. The ice fae continued translating. “She says fabrics don’t stretch and you’ll have to go with a skin. Farweren skin – and no I don’t know what that is – is spell-resistant but weak to physical attacks. And… basilisk skin is good for resisting magic, but isn’t very flexible. It will stretch to a certain point, and then it stops. Dragon skin is resistant to everything, but again, it has a little stretch but not much. Yelarian skin stretches and… whoa, weird. Apparently it’s crap at resisting magic, but it’s nearly impenetrable, heals itself, and grows with the wearer.”
Cyrus’s eyebrows rose. “Seriously? What, is it alive?”
Ashawyn asked the lady. She shook her head and said one word. Ashawyn smiled. “Complicated.”
Cyrus nodded. So the question was, did he want something that could resist magic fired at him or that couldn’t be cut? It didn’t seem like it was worth it. If he got tossed around, he’s still break a limb. Or if he got ‘stabbed’ with a sword, he’d still get a bruise. It probably depended on how thick the skin was. Which brought him full circle. Buy something he might grow out of in a month or something that would last?
Well, it wasn’t like he couldn’t cast a full body shield charm. Magic wasn’t his weakness. “Ask her how much it would cost to get an outfit made out of Yelarian skin.”
Ashawyn’s eyebrows rose when he relayed the question. “Whoa. Two hundred galleons. And she wants a hundred up front.”
Cyrus nodded, and Ashawyn’s eyebrows rose even higher. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything about Cyrus obviously being loaded. “Where are the designs?”
Ashawyn translated again. “She says you don’t pick the design, she does. You tell her what you want, she takes your measurements, and she makes it.”
Cyrus shrugged. “Alright. Not like I have any sense of design anyway. I want full range of movement. I want boots, gloves, and I want it to protect my neck. What else…” He looked down at the basilisk pants he was still wearing. It looked weird with a T-shirt on top, but he didn’t really care. “I have two wands. I want a thigh holster for one and an arm holster for the other.” To show her exactly the problem with his death stick, he pulled it out of its holster and watched her eyebrows rise at the length. She made a note on her pad of paper as Ashawyn continued to translate, using gestures to help express his meaning. “And…” What he really wanted to say just then was ‘I don’t want anyone to be able to put their hands down my pants’, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get it out without having passing out from mortification. “Can she make it one piece instead of two? Without making it look… stupid?”
Ashawyn gave him a weird look, but conveyed the question nonetheless. The lady immediately nodded and made a motion of ‘zipping’ herself up in the back.
Cyrus nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
She nodded and made a few last notes on her pad of paper before pushing him out of the room and back into the main area. With a wave of her hand, she set up a circle of curtains and pushed him inside. She waved a hand at Ashawyn when he tried to come in as well, barking something in that weird language. Ashawyn murmured something and stayed on the other side of the thick fabric.
“She wants you naked.”
Cyrus choked. “Excuse me?!”
“Apparently she’s a… perfectionist. Um… underwear too, she said.”
Cyrus stared at her in shock for a few moments, but she looked decidedly unimpressed and raised a ‘what are you waiting for?’ eyebrow. Finally, he swallowed nervously and started pulling off his shirt. The pants were a bit harder to get off as they were so tight, but he finally managed. She pulled out a tape measure and started making weird notes in a language he’d never seen before.
He started going over a mental catalogue of all the Dark Arts spells he knew when she started touching him occasionally. At one point she grabbed one of his legs and started bending it, nearly making him fall over. Once he got the drift of what she wanted, though, he bent his knee himself and watched as she made more weird designs on her paper. And just when he thought she was finally done, she called something out to Ashawyn that resulted in silence for a full ten seconds.
“S-she… she needs to measure your… when you’re erect.”
Cyrus blinked, uncomprehending. “What? She needs to measure what?”
“Your… your hard-on!”
Cyrus’s jaw fell open. “What the fuck would she want to measure that for?!”
The lady, apparently getting the gist of his anger, barked something at Ashawyn again.
“She says that she does… a full job? A complete job? Apparently you’re going to be protected from enemies trying to kick you in the jewels,” the ice fae joked half-heartedly.
Cyrus closed his eyes and breathed deeply. This… was the most awkward thing he’d ever done. “Can’t she just do an approximation?”
Ashawyn translated, and the lady started to get annoyed. “No. She said that every man is different, and she doesn’t want… I think she said she doesn’t want your dick being suffocated? Doesn't translate very well.”
Cyrus took in another fortifying breath. “How am I…” His hands shaking at his sides. This was such a violation of privacy he didn’t have words to articulate himself. “How am I supposed to get a hard on like this?!” he finally bit out, embarrassed beyond belief.
Ashawyn chuckled nervously. “Want some help?”
Cyrus’s eyes widened. “What kind of help are we talking about here?” He did not squeak.
Ashawyn laughed. “Well, how about first you think about someone you think is hot? Then you imagine… them… you know, doing things. To you. Or you doing things to them. Whatever… turns you on.”
Cyrus furiously rubbed at his face. Think of someone hot? Well… there was Rivehn. But he didn’t think he wanted to consciously think about an age-old vampire at this moment in time. He was what, sixteen? That had to be the epitome of cradle robbing. No matter how hot the man was. Who else turned him on?
He bit his lip. Ashawyn had. Right before they came here. If he’d known he’d need an erection to get fitted he wouldn’t have jacked off in the bathroom. Fuck. Think of sex, think of sex… he was a teenager, how come the moment he needed an erection he couldn’t make it happen? Damnit! “I… I can’t do it,” he finally cracked out.
Ashawyn walked in at that moment, looking serious. Cyrus tried to cover himself with his hands, but it wasn’t working too well. He was so flummoxed and flustered he didn’t even think of conjuring something to hide himself. “W-what the hell! Don’t come in here!”
Ashawyn walked right up to him, but his eyes remained connected to Cyrus’s own, not taking advantage of their current situation to look him over. “Look. She’s getting impatient. She just about bit my head off with the last comment. Most of her customers aren’t human, and have no trouble getting an erection so she can measure it. If you keep standing around, she might decide you’re not worth it, charge you for a waste of time, and toss you out the door. Okay? Just… just let me help.”
Cyrus stared into those pale blue eyes for a moment before swallowing nervously. “I... I-I have a p-problem with… with touch.”
Ashawyn gently placed a cool hand on Cyrus’s shoulder. “This bothers you?”
Cyrus breathed in slowly, closing his eyes, but it made it worse when he couldn’t see that it wasn’t Macnair. ‘That fucker’s dead,’ he reminded himself, chewing away at his lip. “It’s uncomfortable.”
Ashawyn made a thoughtful noise. He leaned in really close, and Cyrus found himself turning red. He couldn’t deny that Ashawyn was one hot fae. And having him so close… and leaning closer.
“Would you mind if I kissed you?” Ashawyn whispered against his lips, and Cyrus could taste a burst of frost. “Or would that make you… uncomfortable?”
Cyrus’s eyes half-lidded, and just the memory of those lips against his made his skin tingle. “I don’t know… let’s see,” he found himself murmur back as blood started rushing away from his head. When Ashawyn finally closed the distance, he let out a small sigh. The fae certainly knew what he was doing, as he massaged Cyrus’s mouth with his own. Eventually a little bit of teasing tongue was added to the mix, and Cyrus found himself completely aroused.
And then the lady cleared her throat.
Ashawyn broke away with a pleased grin, while Cyrus blushed and looked away in embarrassment. Swallowing nervously, he tried to ignore the fact that the lady’s tape measure was measuring his… dick. He flushed even more as he felt Ashawyn finally look him over.
“You know…” the fae began with a teasing grin. “I’m going to enjoy seeing you in this armor. You are definitely more muscular than the last time I saw you in tight-fitting clothes.”
Cyrus flushed even more. “Do you have to keep staring?” he asked, his erection waning as his discomfort won out. Hopefully the crazy lady had all the measurements she needed.
Ashawyn grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. You’re just so cute when you blush like that,” he said, voice lowered seductively.
Cyrus covered his face with a hand. “Can you turn around, please?”
Ashawyn winked, but left the curtained off area.
Cyrus let out a relieved breath and looked at the lady who was watching him with a glint in her eye. “Are we done yet?” he asked, cheeks still flushed from both the kiss and his embarrassment.
She smiled and left the curtains, barking something at Ashawyn.
“She says you can get dressed now, leave a hundred galleons with the boy at the counter, and to come back in two weeks.”
Cyrus’s eyebrows rose. “Two weeks?!”
The ice fae shrugged. “She’s a very good seamstress. I’m not surprised she’s busy with other orders. Be glad it wasn’t a month.”
Cyrus, who was almost finished pulling on his pants, scowled. “Yeah, I guess. But still. I don’t have proper armor to wear for two weeks now!”
The fae shrugged. “That’s life. You’ll just have to be careful, or prepare earlier next time.”
Cyrus sighed. Ashawyn had a point. Even if Cyrus wasn’t happy about it. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Do you want to go get that Linmeyelle in the meantime?”
“Ah, yeah. I’m not sure if I’m going to have enough money, though.” From his calculations, the down payment for this armor would use up the majority of the money he had left over. “I’m going to have to visit the bank.”
He grimaced as he pulled on his shirt and left the curtains to see Ashawyn waiting for him. Great.
He had to visit Diagon Alley.
-Toki Mirage-
So, who was surprised to see this out so early? I gotta tell you, I was. Of course, I wasted my entire weekend away with movies, fanfiction, and writing, so why am I surprised? (shakes her head at herself) I’m such a bad girl. Mweheheh.
So, to the person who asked for ‘fluff’, and a break from the shit hitting the fan: I dare say I do not write fluff, but this is as close as I’ll ever get. I hope it tickled your fluff bone. :)
Please send some thanks in Marmee Noir’s direction, official Muse-in-Training. She appreciates your love.
Thanks for reading, and to those that review, for reviewing!
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