need a spark to ignite;

“Fully agreed,” Ronan could tell the wheels were turning in the master’s head, and he felt as if possibly he knew Ronan was playing the slave game to win.He wasn’t as interested in classical composers but he did enjoy music and music history, so maybe it was both honest and strategic, in a way. Though, Ronan wasn’t above lying to make sure he stayed on the good sides of the masters. “Ah, the romantic period. A bit more my tastes. I could play some for you,” Ronan suggested, though he was told to open the bench of the piano instead. 

Ronan moved off of the piano bench, opening it to reveal a small gaggle of sex toys. “Oh,” He mumbled, feeling his heart race a little faster. His cheeks started to feel hot again, and he tried to hide it behind the open panel of the bench. His eyes peeked over the lid at Mason. “Um– which two things?” He asked cautiously, internally trying to shoo away his own nerves. Never in his entire time of being a slave did Ronan ever feel so flustered by someone. He wasn’t fond of the feeling, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t totally fine with where this seemed to be going.

Mason allowed himself the tiniest of smiles when Ronan offered to play him a Romantic piece. “Perhaps later. For now, I’m interested in what else you have to offer me.” He watched intently as Ronan opened the piano bench, letting his smile turn into a smug smirk as he saw the slave’s expression change and his cheeks start to flush. He loved the slave’s reactions when they realized the bench held not music, but sex toys. “Any two, my dear. Since you played so beautifully for me, I’ve decided to let you choose. Don’t be shy, pick whatever you think looks...fun.”

Mason sat back in his chair, waiting for Ronan to make his choice, and slid his glass to the end of the coffee table. “When you’re ready, place them on the table, and then I want you on your knees in front of me.”

Renee took his arm, allowing it to wrap around his as they walked, “I don’t get to experience it enough. I would have a garden if I were allowed.” The girl had learned long ago to just enjoy the little things that she had. “He came by a couple of nights ago. He’s been rather busy from what I can gather.” Her voice held a slight tone of longing. “He did mention taking a trip for a few weeks, but overall he is well.”

Mason hummed thoughtfully, wondering if it were even possible to keep a plant alive in the cells. “I would ask if there might be a master you could convince to gift you with a flowerpot, but with the lack of natural light there I don’t suppose it would survive for very long,” he mused, fingertips reaching out to touch, ever so delicately, the silken petals of the white roses. He must go visit Avery and see if she had any white roses available for his table. “That would explain why I haven’t seen him, but that’s good to hear. I should make time to see him when he returns. Do you know where he went?” He sat on one of the stone benches, under the shade of a mighty oak tree, and motioned for her to sit beside him. “And...the other slaves. I haven’t spent much time with any of them, unfortunately, but tell me what’s been happening around the Chateau.”

Ronan wanted to respond, but his words had caught in his throat. Please seduce me, go right ahead, Ronan thought to himself. He could feel himself blushing a little, though he tried to hold it down. He didn’t need a master thinking he was weak, especially not this one. Ronan had a feeling Mason would enjoy that too much. He sat down quickly, taking a sip from his glass. He was surprised a master was more interested in his music and art, but at the same time, it was refreshing. And somehow even more of a turn on than his nice hair and pretty eyes.

“Well,” Ronan started, setting his glass neatly on one of the coasters on the table near him. “My parents had me in piano lessons when I was very young. They were adamant about cultivating any and all of my talents. I much preferred guitar, though I self taught myself that in my free time. And I’ve always loved painting and drawing as a hobby. I wanted to go into the arts before– well, before coming here.” He explained casually, reaching up to play with his dangly earring which he’d been gifted by one of the other masters. He glanced over at the piano before standing up. “I find many composers moving. I’m assuming you’re meaning classical composers, I’m partial to Stravinsky and Vivaldi. I was never interested in Beethoven or Mozart, they’re overrated. Though, my favorite pianist is Liberace. I always wanted a mirror piano like his,” Ronan mused, walking over the piano and sitting down, his fingers tracing the keys before starting to play Clair De Lune by Claude Debussy.

Mason liked to think that after almost 600 years on this damned earth, he’d whittled his weaknesses down to almost zero. The few that were left were admittedly frivolous, and art was a big one. Fortunately for this slave, that background of his was the only thing keeping him from spending the entire night bruised and in shackles in Mason’s basement. “Your parents were smart to do so. If you have a proclivity for something, it should be nurtured. Talent wasted is a tragedy all its own.” Mason’s icy gaze followed Ronan as he walked toward the piano and spoke of his favorite composers. It was almost like Ronan knew exactly what to say; Mason couldn’t tell if they truly had the same taste in music or whether the slave was just being smart in his answers. Either way, he had to admit a grudging respect. “Overrated but unfortunately, they’re usually the first ones people think of. The classical period itself gets too much credit. Now, the romantics...they were something else.” 

He sat back, lazily swirling the whiskey in his glass as he listened to Ronan play. A simple song, sure, but it had been some time since he had the pleasure of actual talent in his house. And truth be told, few things were more of a turn-on than someone with artistic ability. “Beautiful,” he said once Ronan was finished, taking one last sip of the whiskey before placing his glass on the table with barely a sound. “Do me a favor, then, and open the lid of the piano bench and bring me two things from it.” Little did Ronan know, Mason happened to hide just a few sex toys—a small assortment of gags, plugs, rope, paddles, and crops—in there, should he be in the mood and not want to go up to his bedroom to retrieve anything. 

“Lets.” She agreed. She took his hand so that she could step out of her cell, her eyes glancing over the man more fully this time. “The gardens sound lovely. I haven’t had a chance to see the roses blooming.” She hummed softly.

“Fortunately it’s the season for them. The white ones are especially exquisite this year.” He offered her his arm in case she wanted to take it. Fortunately the rosebushes sat in a shady part of the gardens outside; he had no idea if she had a sun ring or anything of the sort. “How is your father doing, by the way? I haven’t had a chance to see him lately.”

“Humans are boring. Always have been.” She hummed, her eyes flicking up to the man then. She set the book to the side, “A walk would be pleasant if you feel like giving it to me.”

“I have no other plans at the moment. Shall we?” Once he waved a guard over to open the door, Mason offered her a hand to help her out of the cell. “Would you prefer to stay in the Chateau or go into the gardens? The rosebushes are finally beginning to bloom and they look divine.”

“Oh, I’ve never met anyone else named Ro–” The boy paused, hearing him explain about seducing some man named Ronan’s brother. That was certainly…. endearing. “Oh, lovely. Unfortunately for you, I don’t have a brother to seduce,” Ronan said, giving the master a smile. 

The home was certainly intimidating, but that didn’t allow Ronan to let himself show weakness. He was normally pretty good at a pokerface, however it was going to be hard not to blush at the master’s good looks. “Yes, of course,” He nodded, “Thank you for allowing me to have a glass.” He added sweetly, before making his way into the kitchen and doing as he was told, pouring two glasses. He returned, holding one out to him. “Now, I’m not entirely sure what you’re looking for, but I’ve got plenty to offer. I’m an artist and a musician, if you’re looking for that kind of entertainment. I also take direction well and can cook and clean. I’ve also been praised for my sexual favors as well,” He listed off, almost robotically at this point. It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked what he was useful for. 

“No brother to seduce? Then I suppose you’ll have to do.” Mason didn’t return the smile, just holding the slave’s gaze for a moment before turning his attention back to his home. Once Ronan came back with the glasses, the vampire motioned for him to sit in the armchair across from him. “Sit, boy. Make yourself comfortable now while I decide what to do with you.” He hummed in thought, head tilting slightly as he listened to Ronan list off the things he was good at, attention piqued at the mention of him being a musician. “Very well. I like what I hear. But tell me more about your music and art training.”

His grand piano sat in the corner of the living room, the top propped open and keys uncovered, should he himself ever feel the urge to play. He didn’t as often these days, preferring to find a slave to entertain him, and if Ronan was skilled enough he might get off lucky today. Mason took a slow sip of his drink, the burn of the alcohol negligible to him by now. “And answer this question carefully, boy. Which composer’s work do you find most moving?”

“Very difficult to experience life in only a century.” She responded with a slight grin. The supers were lucky in that regard, they were given more than a century to learn, to experience. Though she held the label of a lesser, she held onto the hope to one day be able to experience the world. “He taught me well– No daughter of Dmitri would be as ordinary as the other slaves.”

“And some don’t even deserve that much.” Wasteful things, humans were. He could stand a few in his lifetime, usually the ones with talent or power or wealth or all of the above, but the rest he viewed as insignificant and disposable. “That sounds like him. Are you in need of anything? Food, a shower, a walk?”

“temporarily fixing,” nikolai corrected without much thought. “i can’t speak on his behalf but i found him to be a very disgusting person.” he didn’t have to be nice and he didn’t have to say nice things about the man. after all it was one of his worst ones yet. slim fingers reached up to brush back some of his untamed hair, scratching at his scalp a bit before his arm dropped near his sides. the slave practically deflated at the mention of a punishment, a frown tugging at his lips. “plenty fair. considering i haven’t done anything that horrible to warrant a punishment, sir.” nikolai thought about just walking away but deep down he knew that would not be a good thing. “why tease me and make me stew and think about when it’ll happen? if you’re going to rent me then do it. there’s nothing i can do to change your mind or make it stop, sir.”

“why, teasing you and making you think about it is half the fun. i know very well that there’s nothing you can do to stop me. that’s the best part. and i like that you know that, too.” mason blinked once, finally releasing his hold on nikolai’s shirt, and allowed himself the barest hint of a smile. “i can’t wait to see you at my front door tomorrow evening.”

Entertainment. Ronan was sure what that meant– he’d heard it many times before. Or at least, it generally meant sexual favors. Ronan usually did his best to just do what was expected of him, and it usually meant he got something in return so regardless of who the master was, he would shift into auto pilot and comply. Though, this particular master was so— attractive. Maybe it was his eyes or his soft features, but Ronan had to mentally slap himself and remind himself that this was a master, not just a cute guy at the local coffee shop. “Ronan,” He answered softly, following the man along, just glad to be out of his cell. 

“Ronan, hmm. I knew a Ronan once. He was a good man, save for the time he tried to kill me  after finding out I seduced his brother.” Mason hummed out a laugh, mostly to himself. It was all too easy for him to get lost in reminiscing, especially when the memories came with a particularly amusing story.  

His home in the Apex Block was decently-sized but the facade made an imposing impression all the same when walking up, with the wrought-iron gates and the dark wood of the double doors. He led the slave inside and pointed toward the kitchen. “Pour us each a glass of Connemara. It’s on the middle shelf next to the refrigerator and glasses are next to the bottle. Bring them both back here and then I want you to tell me what you have to offer me.” He waited for the boy to return, picking off a few bits of lint that had stuck to his jacket, and looked up when he heard the footsteps nearing once again. 

nikolai gave the man a blank stare, only briefly glancing away when someone passed by the two of them. “my apologies. impulses get the better of me sometimes.” and this particular master had to know that, they rented him in the past a couple of times. at the mention of the purchase nikolai’s face changed. sadness etched into his features very briefly before he shrugged his shoulders and put on a blank mask again. “they returned me. i wasn’t winning enough fights in the pits. which, look at me, i’m not built for fighting.” he tells him, desperately wanting him–someone–to agree with him that it wasn’t his fault. and maybe mason saw more. maybe he saw how sunken in his face looked, how thin his frame was. he’d been starved with that man. beaten and starved, at one point he was hoping he’d just fall over and faint so he’d be taken to the infirmary. “can i go now, sir?” he was tired, he didn’t want to stand there any longer with him 

before he even had the chance to answer his question nikolai had been dragged forward by his own shirt, making a slight face before letting out a small sigh. “there’s no need to be so harsh or rough with me, sir.” nikolai said softly, though his russian accent could still be heard clearly. “i was trying to help…your collar wasn’t folded over properly in the back.” he explained, without the attitude or sass he’s been known to have at times. “i can just be on my way now?” he suggested.

Yes, Ronan thought. Manners. Sure, once upon a time before all of this, he would have considered himself a person with manners. Now, however, it was more of a survival tactic. Ronan wasn’t really fond of getting punished and when he was good, he received things like better meals, clothes, and other things from the masters. So he did his best to be complicit. And some of them were even a little pleasant to be around. “Ah, yes. Morning. My bad. I kind of lose track of time in here,” He smiled gently at the man, shifting closer to the bars. “I’m pretty bored, are you going to be kind enough to give me something to do?”

Mason quirked a brow, just a bit surprised at how...eager this one seemed to be. It would be a nice change of pace, though, considering all the unruly ones he’d been dealing with lately, “Fortunately for you, you won’t be bored for long. I asked for a slave capable of entertaining me for the next twenty-four hours and they recommended me you, so. Come.” Truthfully, Mason had no plans at the moment, and was waiting to see who he’d ended up with before deciding what to do with them. Initially he was considering just putting whoever he rented to work around the house, but one was pretty and seemingly willing to please, so perhaps... “Tell me your name,” he said, one heavy hand on the slave’s shoulder as he guided him through the city toward his home. 

“There is value in some of it.” She hummed softly, “But these tragedies. Greek to Shakespeare– they are trivial.” She allowed a shrug to roll from her shoulders. She smiled then, wide and proud, “Yes. I am Renee, daughter of the great Dmitri.”

“Very few humans can write a good tragedy and it’s because none of them have experienced it themselves.” Mason hummed as she confirmed his suspicion. The two of them went way back, Mason and her father, and it was in fact Dmitri who had told him about Crown Point and suggested he move. "He’s told me a fair bit about you. You’re doing rather well for yourself, I see.”

“It’s all quite fascinating–” She said then, her eyes flicking up to look over the face of the other. She thought he looked familiar, but couldn’t quite place where exactly she had seen him. “It is horribly predictable and full of what no doubt humans deem to be true love.” She nearly scoffed, “Not yet, but I imagine I will be done within the week.”

“They do act like they know everything, don’t they? And then the nerve of them to write their drivel down for everyone to have to read. No doubt, some of them were talented, but the rest...” He squinted a bit, certain he knew her from somewhere...somehow. He snapped his fingers as it hit him. “You’re Dmitri’s daughter, yes?”