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"That must have been difficult," Vee says, feeling a deep empathy for their sibling. "Was it lonely?"

Nez, though, wasn't the sort to talk about himself in these ways. If Nez had a solution, Vee wasn't to worry about him. Still, they did.

"I did," Vee admits, before realizing to swap tongues. "I did. I was adopted by one that was sympathetic to basilisks. He didn't care what I was, he'd defected from The Coven System and found a life with a Mundus." It felt weird to explain this. This had been Vee's life for so long, yet, Vee could never forget where they came from. And who they lost, even if the memory of Nez's face -- true face -- had become blurry over time.

"They were nice, but I know not all were that way. If I'm honest, I figured, it was my best chance. And if it didn't work out, I could always run again. You know us... always running."

But they had survived. Which made the question even more uncomfortable.

"It doesn't matter," he finally replied, curt and clear that he wasn't going to elaborate. He should have just lied. It would have been so much easier. He did it so perfectly elsewhere.

But lies didn't air underwater. They came out as voiceless bubbles, rising to the surface to remain unheard.

A sorcerer that was sympathetic to basilisks seemed like an oxymoron. It didn't exist. A basilisk's existence meant to take from another, so why would they ever be accepted? Perhaps if this sorcerer wished to settle with a Mundus and live in a Mundus world, then they'd need their magic suppressed. A basilisk would always be used in the end.

It was only their last words that gave him any sort of comfort. Yes, it was a dangerous situation, but it was their best chance. Much like when he infiltrated the Order. Though not a Magick, he doubted the Order would have cared for the difference had he ever been discovered. Like Vee, he had been ready to run at a moment's notice.

"That's smart," he said. "Do you still live with them? Are they here in Swynlake?"

But he wondered. Ben was obviously... something. Like how Jack was something. Would his reagents mutate in the same way that others' did when Jack touched them?

Maybe one day he'd find out.

Then Ben agreed and Jack's own calculated smirk split in half. He grinned.

"Weekend works for me. And yup, just find anyone who works here and tell them you got a meeting with me. We can meet up here and finish the deal."

But the chill wasn't just a warning--it was a thrill. One that kept him coming back, apparently.

"I shall see you then," he said, putting a hand on the table to push himself to his feet. He had no desire to stay here longer than necessary, though he might pinch a snack or two on the way out.

In just the time it had taken to have this conversation, he was hungry again.

Nez... hazards a guess, which Vee was somewhat surprised about. Often times, a reason wasn't needed. They could explain and ask and question so many things, but in the end, results were what mattered. To know things so you could survive.

Maybe Vee wasn't so much of an annoying toddler?

"Oh, really?" Vee asks, voice quiet still. Stealthy, not to attract attention. Loud enough, though, to acknowledge what he's said. They hope the two of them can have more conversations like that.

Soon though, they start upon where the water begins to diverge and Vee glances around for any possible predators.

"Is that.... is that right? Are we on the right path?"

The waters of the Boiling Isles were, well, boiling. They would scald any human who dared enter. Basilisks, amphibious as they were, had thicker skin. Their scales were enough to keep the heat from burning them alive, allowing them entrance. While they couldn't stay in for long, this ease of access gave them a wider map in which to traverse.

They slithered into the waters which warmed them. It was always a comfort at first, before it got too unbearable. They took a moment to enjoy it before emerging on the other side, where they waited for their sibling.

"You remember how to gather them?"

Summary: After several interactions of Ben smelling an unknown magic item on John, an opportunity to learn more presents itself. Takes Place: Dec. 20, 2025 @ben-books

JOHN

He didn't know how many times he had done this. He didn't know how many times he'd been in this hotel bed. He stopped keeping track. Some times were more eventful than others, with mouths and breaths growing hotter against one another. Though they never passed a certain threshold.

John didn't mind. In some ways it was surprising how much he didn't mind the pace of their escalation. He didn't mind if Ben stopped paying attention to him and would look over a book or his phone, John just liked being near him. There was a strange sort of comfort there. 

Perhaps there shouldn't be, especially with his first few visits ending in such hazy memories and John growing unusually tired. John blamed himself. Lack of experience, dehydration, any number of excuses to keep those rose colored glasses firmly on his face. And, it worked. Because eventually the tiredness stopped, the strange little feelings went away, and John just got to enjoy being around Ben. 

It was late that he had come by, which meant that after their usual activities as he lay in the bed, a little lightheaded and tired, face buried in the pillows because there was something so relaxing about their smell, that it was now really late. A suspicious time to be seen leaving the room--though would him not leaving be more suspicious? In his opinion, no, because he doubts anyone actually watches Ben's room so closely. 

But between the hour, his tiredness, and the winter weather outside, John didn't really want to leave. So he stayed resting in the bed while Ben had gotten up to do... something. He didn't know; he didn't really care because it was so easy to drift off in this space.

BEN

He didn't know how many times he had done this. Which was unusual and dangerous. Normally, he would be keeping track of such things, studying the patterns, and adjusting them to make sure he wasn't at risk of exposing himself. But the hunger didn't care about such things. While he would not categorize it as getting worse, it was becoming increasingly more frequent. He never denied the man when he reached out. In fact, he even started to look forward to it. There were a few times that he had to keep from reaching out himself.

He still tried to do it smart, though. He never went as far as he'd done on that first night. He paid much more attention to John's reactions and his body, his body, his body. He always stopped before things went too far. And he allowed John to stay to recover.

It wasn't like him. He wasn't the type for company once he had gotten what he wanted out of them. Especially with the way John lingered and watched him, it was very possible he was putting himself at risk. At the same time, it wasn't...unpleasant either. He chalked it up to a necessary risk.

On this particular evening, John started showing early signs of his exhaustion, and Ben had to keep himself from pushing it. Still, he didn't get as much as he had wanted. He was still hungry.

As the other man lay in bed, drifting in and out, Ben decided to take his chance. He'd smelled the item that John carried every time they got together. It had a familiar tinge to its scent, one that enticed him, but he could never get close enough to pinpoint it. With his stomach guiding him, he slipped out of bed and rooted around the jacket carelessly discarded on the floor.

But he didn't need his sand to do that. Or-- maybe he did, because maybe this was what his soul was made of: sparkly sand.

He'd heard from others, though.

"I've heard it can help with that-- lucid dreaming, that's what they call it, right?" said Jack. "So if that's something you want... to control your dreams, then this stuff can help you along the way. You'll just have to figure out the right dosage for you. Everyone's a little different."

Then he took a Dum-Dum wrapper which had been crinkled in his pocket. He wrote a number on the wrapper and handed it to Ben.

"That's the price per ounce."

Which made the concept of the shared dreams so alarming.

They were vivid, precise, and remembered by all to certain extents, none of which he had control over. Thus far, both dreams he was present for displayed him in a way that he never dare would himself. His mask was perfectly carved and adjusted so that it could not budge. Yet within an instant, magic could distort it in unimaginable ways.

It was unacceptable. If this substance could help him take control of that, then it was worth every pound.

And what a pretty pound it was. As he took the small piece of paper, his eyebrows rose. The scale in his mind tipped back and forth as he calculated the risks versus rewards. Finally, he folded the paper and tucked it into his own pocket.

"It will take me some time to gather that amount in cash, which I presume is your preferred method of payment. But I can have it by this weekend. And you'd just have me return here?"

He shook the little bag, and the sand glittered in the low light.

"You fall asleep. And you have amazing dreams." He grinned. "Even if you're a vampire, can you believe that? Just a little of this stuff and you're knocked out, usually for a least twelve long, restful hours. It's a favorite for people who need that kinda reset or who might struggle with going to bed or with bad dreams."

Of course, use it too much, and you just don't wake up. But that wasn't in the sales strategy, was it?

"As far as how much, I guess how much you're willing to give me. An ounce of this stuff is pretty expensive. But maybe if you were gonna buy it in bulk, I can give ya a discount. Since we're friends."

At the same time, there was a possibility that was intriguing to him.

"The price is fine," Ben reassured. He'd made something of a small fortune for himself selling items from the Vault on the black market. And with a house soon to be bought, he'd stop hemorrhaging money staying in a hotel indefinitely. And all things considered, even Ben had to begrudgingly admit that Town Hall paid a fair wage.

"Would this allow you to be able to control your dreams?" He asked. The concept of lucid dreaming was inane to him, but with magic, all things were possible, even at their most terrifying.

When he did stop, it felt like something had been unplugged from John. He let out a small breath, leaning into Ben’s touch. His eyelids fluttered as he did his best to keep his eyes open.

“I’m…” was he alright? He didn’t know how he was feeling anymore. Tired? So tired. Why was he so tired? He couldn’t think straight. All of this felt distant and floaty. Like a dream. Was this all part of some dream? No…

He felt cold, wrong. He pressed closer to Ben, trying to steal any warmth from him he could. His head rested against his shoulder. “What happened…” he whispered, hearing Ben’s heartbeat. The drumming of it in his ears threatened to lull him asleep.

Part of him wondered if this was what it felt like to get bit by a vampire. But he knew it wasn’t that. Ben didn’t bite him, and he didn’t smell like a vampire.

And that thought was drowned out by the sound of his heartbeat anyway. There was no correlation between this and what Ben had done, not really. Maybe John got too excited? Maybe all his sleepless nights were finally catching up to him?

He let out a breath against Ben’s neck, tucking in even closer against him. Partially because he couldn't sit up right but mostly because it was comfortable. Ben was cozy, especially to him in this moment of random onset exhaustion. “I’m tired…” his eyes shut, his breath coming slow and heavy. “I’m sorry… I don’t know what… what happened…”

But perhaps it had worked to his advantage. John seemed too out of it to put any pieces together at the moment, which meant Ben had time to rearrange them to suit his interests.

He continued to tuck in further and Ben had to maneuver himself, one hand tucking under his thighs and the other around his shoulders to hold him close. He'd never let anyone get this close. But if he was going to be playing the part of concerned caretaker, he could not lean into Books's standoffish demeanor.

"You're alright. No need to apologize," he murmured quietly, though he was sure John could hear them with their proximity. "Just rest for now. We'll figure it out later."

Yes, he would indeed figure it out. And with this vivacious buzzing throughout his mind, he could not help but wonder if he might figure out how to get away with it again.

Now what the hell did that mean?

Jack couldn't follow that thought down the rabbit hole. Not before Ben leaned forward, his cool finger swiping over Jack's lips. Jack shuddered at the touch, his body temporarily freezing in place, like he was expecting Ben to do worse. Maybe sink his teeth into Jack instead. Now that was a fun thought experiment.

He licked his lip where Ben's finger had been.

"I mean. I'm in the market to sell a lot of things," said Jack. He grinned again and then shrugged. "It depends on what you're talking about. I mostly deal in-- one-of-a-kind, custom-made magical items. So not sure that's very consistent. However, I am also in the market for a particular, very rare substance."

He fished into his inner coat pocket, pulling out a little vial of his glimmering sand.

"Not pixie dust," said Jack-- because most people thought that's what it was, as if Jack was pillaging a hollow or whatever. He didn't need those accusations, especially since he had pillaged the corpse of Pixie's, the club. "It's sand. Magical sleepytime sand."

Jack spoke of custom-made magical objects. Ben didn't think that would be good enough. Not only was the hunger returning faster than he could satiate it, but individual items tended to cost a pretty penny.

So the mention of a substance did bring intrigue. In fact, his eyes dilated slightly at the production of the vial of dust--no, sand. Was this those delectable grains that had been produced at the Valentine's show, coating his drink like a sugar rim?

"And what does it do, exactly? How much are you willing to sell?" It was perhaps jumping the gun a little too quickly, but this would all be for naught if the substance was just as fleeting as the magical items.

"Right, of course," Vee says, knowing that what Nez said would be the right call. Nez very rarely was wrong, at least in Vee's eyes.

Meanwhile, Vee wasn't exactly right in their answer to Nez's question. They hesitate, which Vee knows Nez doesn't approve of. Still, a 'close' was good enough for Vee (for now.)

"Why is it where the creek forks?" Vee asks, quietly, hoping their inexperience isn't bothering their sibling. "Why that specific sort of intersection?"

The question intrigued them. So often, their elders said, "It doesn't matter, it just is," when it came to the why of things. Nez knew that was likely the best way to go about things. But even they couldn't help to wonder sometimes. And apparently, so did Vee.

So while they knew the right thing to say, what they actually said was, "It might be because of the way the water flows and diverges. The boiling temperature and the inherent magic come together to make something of a nest for the plants to prosper. At least, that's my theory."

The guilt threatens to pour in with the water.

"I wasn't there."

It was Vee's fault. Even if it wasn't, Vee would blame themself.

Vee, all that time ago, working to earn the colony money. Working so hard to do what was asked of them, perhaps over zealously at times. And then what happened? Vee might have been the path to their destruction.

There was anguish in those thoughts, those memories.

I don't know, Vee wants to lie. How did Vee survive? They don't know.

"I came back to the fire and the carnage. But the assailants had gone. And our home was razed, it hadn't even finished burning."

Now the memory felt heavy, hard to chew through to speak of.

"I went back to my job, I found a spare room. Pretended I was travelling in an apprenticeship and found a room from someone who didn't ask questions. I got adopted by a former coven member. I became someone else then. I'm a different Vee now."

Because no one would ever again know the Vee who had been afraid to walk before. Who hadn't been sure they could be human enough. Who had believed in them wholeheartedly enough to send them off.

Vee was supposed to become the pride of the colony. Vee was, they thought, the only one left.

"How did you escape? How did you get off the Isles?"

He had fully assumed that meant they were the first to go. As the one who spent the most time in Spine Brook, it was most likely that they were going to be discovered and killed, before the angry mob formed to hunt down the rest. Apparently, he had overestimated the town's sorcerers.

Or, they had underestimated Vee.

As it turned out, they hadn't been discovered at all. Especially not if they managed to return and live amongst their people. Who had it been, then? Did Kon not cover up their tracks properly? Had one of the Elders slipped in their own age?

Maybe it was something he had done.

It didn't matter, in the end. It had happened. He fully understood the need to become someone else, though he was a bit surprised they had kept the name. That they'd held onto any part of their former identity at all.

While questions roiled on the tip of his tongue, he figured he owed an explanation first. "I got in a fight with one of them. After knocking him out, I took on his form and ID, managing to slip past the rest. Got the first flight to the mainland," he explained rotely, as if explaining a trip to the dentist rather than the most horrific moments of his life. He didn't allow any of it to show.

"What do you mean you were adopted by a coven member? You lived with sorcerers permanently?"

He tried to stifle a noise as Ben’s hand tangled in his hair. But a surprised gasp was pulled from him as his head was yanked back. His hand slid up Ben’s neck and into his hair as well. John couldn’t help but notice how soft it was. The hand that Ben still had by the wrist clenched, wanting something to grab.

Ben kissed his neck, soft at first, but it was quick to escalate. John’s breath hitched, a soft moan slipping from his lips as the other sucked on his neck and pulled his hair.

His own grip on Ben tightened, but he didn’t pull him away. He held him closer, his body rushing with heat. There was a pinch where his mouth worked over his throat, sucking harder, leaving John all the more breathless.

Something in the back of his mind started to ring, some strange tingle at the base of his neck that wanted him to pull away. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t need to— he chalked that feeling up to his inexperience. Not some deeper instinct trying to fight for survival. The gut feeling of knowing something wasn’t right was currently taken over by a heat pooling there, traveling lower.

John melted into Ben’s grip, his mind going fuzzy. His arms shook as he tried to hold tight to him but he couldn’t maintain anything firm. His limbs felt heavier and cold, his mind cloudy and spinning. His hand slipped back down Ben’s neck. He knew this could make him tired, he expected to be a little light headed, but…

“Ben…” he panted, his eyes struggling to stay open. He was drained. He was exhausted. His body felt almost numb. The sweat that had started to gather became cold, clammy. But blood was pumping to other places. That was… probably what this was? No… “Ben…?” He said again, unsure if the other had heard him the first time.

“Ben,” he tapped the back of his neck, trying to get his attention. Something’s wrong. He couldn’t say that. He didn’t know what was happening. Maybe nothing was wrong and if he said that it would be embarrassing. On the other hand, he would probably be more embarrassed if he passed out in his arms. “Something’s… shit. I— I need—“ he was breathless, he was going limp in the other man’s grasp. Maybe he should’ve been panicking, but he was suddenly far too tired to even worry.

The grabbing of his hair sent a thrill through him that made him want to sink his teeth into him, even though he'd never done such a thing. He never had any need for them.

He didn't hear him, not any of the times he spoke. It was like he was underwater, gliding and slicing through the water with full freedom, sure that he was not to be seen. It was only when the gripping stopped, instead replaced by a tap, that he finally pulled back, gasping for air.

His mind was reeling, hazy and buzzing. His stomach ached in an unfamiliar but not unpleasant way.

Was this how it felt to be full?

Again, it was not the things that were said, but rather the feeling of the other man starting to go limp that pulled him to the surface of reality, like a fish on a hook. As he breached, his hand dropped from John's wrist to support his back, the other going to cradle his face. Some might see it as a soft gesture.

Mostly, he needed to hold him steady so he could look into his eyes and make sure he hadn't taken too much. They were a dark brown, like the damp mud on the bed of a creek. But there was still light in them.

Finally, he began to catch his breath. "Are you alright?" He asked, barely above a whisper.

His own stomach churned, a dull headache forming on the right side of his forehead.

But he was also ignoring it for now in favor of his interesting company.

"Oh, I'm packing, alright," said Jack slyly, immaturely. He tilted his head. "This isn't everything, either. Pierrot has many secrets. If you know the right people, maybe you'll discover 'em," he said. "But you said you had a proposal for me."

He didn't react to Jack's immature comment. Instead, he merely plowed forward. "Perhaps," he responded vaguely. There would be time for that. He had other things to focus on.

"I am in the market for a consistent stream of magical revenue. It's been of note that you might have a supply." He reached forward and slid his finger around the rim of a drink that had been left there, collecting a bit of the leftover sugar rim. As he leaned forward, his eyes flickered up to Jack. He then moved to use his thumb to wipe the chocolate off of the side of the business owner's lips. He then leaned back, first licking off the sugar, and then the chocolate, sucking on his lip. He locked eyes with the other.

"Are you in the market to sell?"

@ben-books

But Vee would not show fear, not to their older sibling. And not when Kon looked ready to bury Vee in the mud. Vee slithered after their sibling, their own reed-woven bag slung over their shoulder.

"Isn't that dangerous?" Vee asks, regarding not masking their appearance. "What if we're caught or seen?"

But Vee figures Nez would have an answer. Nez always did.

Nez always looked out for Vee in ways that Kon didn't. Then again, Kon wasn't much older than Vee, and treated Vee more like the colony baby rather than a growing baslisk. Someone who would one day be an asset. Someone who was an equal... or would one day be.

The colony looked up to the elders. Vee looked up to Nez.

"Um..." Vee starts, floundering for an answer, "growing from the creek like cat tails?" Probably a wrong answer, but Basilisks usually didn't accept I don't know as an answer. The best thing to do is try.

It was on their shoulders. As the Eldest, they would one day take that role. It wasn't something they took lightly.

While their eyes stayed on the path, they could tell from the stammering that the answer did not come immediately. The corners of their mouth twitched into a frown. It was important that Vee know these things. They wouldn't always have access to magics from the town and they needed to know how to sustain themselves in the wild if need be.

Still, the answer that was settled on did ease their worry somewhat. "Close. It's not just any part of the creek, it's specifically wherever the creek forks. There's only a few spots within travel distance from us."