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The Wolf & The Flame

Kadeu Forest

Everything had been planned meticulously, down to the very last and seemingly insignificant detail, just like any other hunting trip that the fire elementalist had made until this day. There were certain things that demanded his attention to detail, specific elements that left no room for error, especially given the situation. Asra usually hunted either for fun or due to work and more often than not, alone, those were things that he was used to, however this time he needed to be even more careful because not only would he be responsible for Sparrow, but he had also been given the task of hunting down a dire wolf only to keep it alive. The rest would be up to the shifter.

They soon arrived at the outskirts of Kadeu, venturing between the familiar but still mysterious forest that guarded all of the manabeasts. It took them quite some time, Asra was not really sure of how much, nor was he about to break his focus just to be able to tell what time it was, he was patient and he was efficient when tracking down a certain species and at the end, it all paid of as they approached a pack of wolves who were quietly eating their meal, obviously tired after their hunt and soon to be full and sleepy after such a large meal.

The pair were hidden behind the thick forest trees, Asra keen eyes were assessing the surroundings, quickly making up a plan to capture one of the creatures once Sparrow had chosen the target he wanted. Asra knew that in the end Sparrow’s decision was the one that mattered the most, however as soon as he saw the enormous black dire wolf licking off the blood from his deadly fangs, he couldn’t help but grab Sparrow’s jaw to signal his partner in that direction.

It was such a beautiful sight and Asra couldn’t help but feel a bit excited after witnessing such a creature. He was the first one to finish his meal which meant that he was the first one to start the meal, clearly the leader of the pack and the one that held the most power. He just hoped that Sparrow would be greedy and not worry about him, Asra would get him any wolf that he wanted no matter how.

“That one would suit you best” he whispered quietly onto Sparrow’s ear in order not to risk it and alert the pack that was standing in the distance.

This wasn’t a side of Asra that Sparrow often got to see -- his Asra was most frequently reckless, impulsive, flying from one decision to the next without a lot of regard for where it landed him. For this trip though, for Sparrow and for what would soon become such an important part of his life, he became a careful planner, meticulous, every detail accounted for and situation considered. It didn’t keep Sparrow’s nerves entirely at bay as they set out, but that wasn’t Asra’s fault; Sparrow had felt the same twist of anxiety and excitement the morning he’d set out with Mallick for a very similar purpose.

The difference, of course, was their quarry. Snakes weren’t so difficult to trap, no matter how venomous, but wolves were another story. As much as Sparrow had the reassurance that Asra was a tried and trained hunter, he couldn’t help the buzz of worry as they moved quietly and deftly through the forest, his eyes occasionally flickering to his lover’s face, taking in the air of concentration. He trusted Asra with his life and his heart, but these things didn’t mean quite as much in the face of an existential, amorphous terror that something could happen to him all while he was hunting for Sparrow’s sake.

The section of woods they moved through had become dark and deep despite the fact it was hours before nightfall, and Sparrow was grateful for Asra’s sharp focus when he himself kept wondering if they should simply turn around. Maybe pay a larger group to hunt down a wolf for him. Sparrow could afford it, but the thought died as quickly as it was realized; this meant something to him, to both of them, here and now. Asra deserved to be a part of this process as much as Sparrow, since they’d both decided years ago that they would never spend another year, another moment apart. The wolf will be a part of Asra’s life almost as much as it’ll be a part of Sparrow’s.

Sparrow crouched beside Asra in the thick underbrush, one hand coming to rest at his side as soon as they saw the pack milling over and appreciating their prey. His eyes flickered from wolf to wolf in quiet consideration, sizing each one up and taking in their physicality, how they moved. Each one was sleek and imposing, but none yet spoke to him. Sparrow licked his lips carefully, wondering how he should decide -- how he was supposed to know.

All of that consideration halted when Asra’s fingertips suddenly caught his jaw and redirected his attention, and the moment Sparrow saw the enormous dire wolf, ebony and blood-slicked, his hand fisted tightly and tellingly in Asra’s shirt.

That one, his heart said, breath leaving Sparrow’s lungs in a shaky exhale. Before he could even think twice and certainly before he could speak, Asra’s lips were at his ear whispering, and Sparrow felt a swell of affection at the strange compliment -- that such an enormous, dangerous beast would suit him, of all people.

It had both been a surprise and a shock to see her only son arriving at home with some unexpected company and a worried look on his face. Fortunately, Aisha was not an impatient woman and far more caring than the average person, choosing to stamp down the enormous amount of questions and letting her nurturing nature come through for the sake of the child that was hiding timidly behind her dear son. It took him a lot of time and even more encouraging words to finally get the little boy to open up and for him to tell them at least his name, but she was grateful that by the time they were able to lead him to the bathroom so he could take a much needed shower and after she had found a fresh set of some of Asra’s old clothes, the mother and son duo had finally the time to assemble in the kitchen so he could deliver the news about the exam and the reason being this unexpected visitor.

She was not mad nor was she disappointed with the result, if anything she was just as proud of Asra as she had ever been. This was the boy she loved most in the whole world so she was biased of course, the heart of a mother was truly a  wonderful thing, however she knew that there was no need for a big speech, she knew that Asra had done his best and that some things were just simply out of his control. She was a water elementalist and had been an Academy student too, she was aware of how rough it was and Asra had come so far and he still had such a long way to go, not having reached his full potential yet.

She knew that one day Asra would be even better than her, no need to get discouraged now, he was a smart boy so he could figure out what to do, he didn’t really need her help anymore as much as it pained her to admit this, but she was also not opposed to lending him a hand, especially when it came to dealing with children. And this situation only proved how right she was about his lack of experience, as soon as she heard some commotion downstairs.

Aisha had been cleaning Asra’s childhood bedroom and had asked her son to keep an eye on the other kid before she realized that it had been wrong to do that, once she realized that he was unsupervised but clearly not alone, Sparrow was now standing in the kitchen and Aisha had just heard the last of his words, which lead to the gut reaction of a scolding mother as she slapped him across the head before making her way to the overwhelmed child standing by the door.

Just as soon as she reached the boy, he leaned onto her, clearly feeling a bit more comfortable by her side than he had felt a few minutes ago even if his hands had stopped peeling the orange, now uncertain of what to do, but still looking at Sparrow curiously.

“Where is Asra, sweetheart?” Aisha asked with her usual soft voice, it was amazing how even when she was mad the tone of her voice never changed. One hand smoothing out the hair on top of the kid’s head as soon as she noticed how conflicted he was, he didn’t want to snitch Asra. It was sweet. Fortunately, her son came in at the right time, they stepped out of the way and Asra finally made its way through the front door, the scent of tobacco following him as his mother narrowed her eyes.

“My love!” Asra called out as soon as his eyes caught the sight of Sparrow in the kitchen, prepared to cross the distance to greet him and completely oblivious to the presence of his mother behind him. However as soon as he took a step, her hand found his arm and even without pulling him, Asra stopped on his tracks looking behind and seeing his mother and the kid standing there. Nothing needed to be said in order for him to understand that not only had he just been caught sneaking in, but also that he understood what he needed to do in order to be forgiven.

He stepped to the side, clearing the path before gesturing and starting the introduction, “Thomas, that’s Sparrow, my partner” he smiled reassuringly at the boy, before turning to Sparrow and repeating the process “Sparrow, this is Thomas, a hum…friend” he wasn’t sure about how to introduce him in a way that would be either awkward or harsh, but as soon as he saw the small shy smile on the boy’s face, he knew that he had done a good job. He would explain everything better later to Sparrow.

Much earlier in their relationship, the swat upside the head from Asra’s mother might’ve sent Sparrow into a bit of a spiral; the Ryus had accepted him with open arms, but for those first few months Sparrow had still been waiting for the other shoe to drop. The one that said he wasn’t worthy of being with their son, or being part of their family, or getting to know them like he realized he deeply wanted to. Slowly but surely ( and over the course of years ), though, Sparrow had come to realize that Asra’s parents loved him like they loved their son: unconditionally. And even if there were days where this still confused him, Sparrow was still more than happy to accept.

Now, instead of spiraling when Aisha neatly cuffed him upside the head for his language in front of this kid, Sparrow could straighten up with a playfully offended scoff and throw his hands wide in a helpless shrug. “What?!” he protested, starting to point towards the boy with the hand holding the orange before Asra returned to save him from saying anything else stupid -- yet.

Sparrow automatically took a step or two towards Asra as soon as he appeared, always ready to gravitate towards him whenever they were in the same space, before his partner paused by the kid and... explained, but not really. Said explanation was minimal, and didn’t actually explain anything. "A friend," Sparrow repeated with clear suspicion in his tone, pulling a section from his orange to pop into his mouth, chewing slowly and darting his eyes back and forth between Asra and the k-- Thomas. Asra and Thomas.

“It’s nightmarish, isn’t it? Like a raw sewage line burst under the building and festered for months before its discovery.” Rook seemed… unreasonably calm as Sparrow came to rest against the smooth hardwood of the living room floor and shifted back, the concubus’ communication amulet sat in a heap on the floor beside the fish tank that made up the south wall, the water inside uneven, likely from the crack in the adjacent one. “Sorry I didn’t answer your calls, I’ve been busy.” He declared flatly, voice still floating from somewhere in the dark of his apartment above the tavern, Rook’s towering frame leaned against the dining room table, the wall behind it scattered with papers and pushpins, thin trails of red and gold thread affixed in loops around each one, connecting a loose conspiracy against the concubus starting in, judging by the carefully drawn symbol on the wall, Spades.

“Someone in Spades thinks I’m a man who takes abuse lying down. I’m trying to determine just who that is so I can prove them painfully, deadly wrong.” He hissed, clapping his hands once as the magic lamps in the apartment thrummed to life, illuminating the true extent of Rook’s handiwork. There were stacks of his black books sitting out, open to various different pages and information in partial states of copied on smaller cards of paper in the Concubus’ careful but clearly self-taught hand. A spool of red thread sat partially unspooled beside him, the gold held in his hand and wound gently around another pin indicating a change in the patrols in Spade- they weren’t as regimented anymore, more random- more difficult to parse out who’d done it by the time it was done.

Rook, much like his apartment, looked like shit. Dark circles under his eyes indicated that he hadn’t slept, skin pale from hours of throwing up from the smell until his body could keep him in the bathroom no longer had also left a sour taste in the back of his mouth, though this was dampened at the very least by the taste of his cigarettes, a thick cloud of the herbal smoke drifting around the blonde as he spoke. “I’m sorry if I worried you, Sparrow.” He sighed, clipping the thread loose and sitting it down on the table, giving the other man a silent once-over as he took a long, desperate drag, anger still boiling just below the frigid surface he’d put on, the drugs only able to placate so much when he too was just as furious as the beast he kept locked down below.

“I’ve been…” he paused, motioning to the wall beside him. “Researching. I’m sure I look every bit a madman now. But I’m getting close to something. I’ve at the very least confirmed this was someone from Spade, but I can’t imagine why. I’ve never had an issue with them beyond their rigidity… Or thinking they’re stupid. Which they certainly are, given that they signed their fucking handiwork like a schoolchild.” He snarled, lips pulling back into a growl before he calmed himself again and crossed to Sparrow, pulling the smaller man into a good natured hug, trying to force a smile.

“So, what brings you back to my neck of the woods? I hope this wasn’t all on my account?” He would feel terrible if Sparrow flew all the way out here to check on him simply because he hadn’t been answering. “They’ve certainly done a number on us here with their totalitarian grip on the Joker, I’d be more concerned, if my tavern was in any state to be open, you know?” Another tense snarl as he fought his own rage back down, fist clenching and unclenching much, much more slowly.

Any relief Sparrow might’ve felt to find Rook alive was pretty swiftly replaced with concern again, screwing his face up against the smell and promptly pinching his nose shut with thumb and forefinger. ‘Been busy.’ That much was painfully obvious, as Sparrow’s curious and confused eyes wandered the full breadth of the wall and the tangle of multicolored strings.

What the actual fuck was going on here? Much as Sparrow tried to follow them, Rook’s explanations cleared everything up exactly not at all. Someone from Spade? Signing their handiwork? Totalitarian grip--

“Uh--” Sparrow fumbled out as Rook pulled him in, and didn’t bother to resist; largely because there was no reason to think he could even if he wanted to. He returned the hug tentatively and focused on breathing through his mouth as he took a half-step back and put his hands on Rook’s arms, as if confirming he was solid would also confirm his friend was… okay, somehow. Except he obviously wasn’t. “Yeah, I mean. I wanted to see how you were doin’. With everythin’.” Broad, but descriptive enough. There was a lot going on.

Apparently.

“So, hang on. Back up.” Sparrow shook his head, turning his attention back to Rook’s so-called research and frowning deeply. “Spades split the fuckin’ building in two and… made it smell like rancid asshole? Why?” That was the piece Sparrow was still missing, and apparently Rook was too. Sparrow’s slender fingertips traced a piece of gold thread and brushed over a hastily penned card. “An’ why would they sign it, that seems… really dumb. ‘Specially for those uptight overthinkers.”

Caution in the light of recent escalated tensions meant Sparrow had to be a little more guarded crossing borders and being seen in Clubs, but he wasn’t about to visit Asra’s family any less just because of minor border roadblocks. He and his partner had said their temporary goodbyes so Asra could set out on foot and Sparrow could take wing, eventually alighting on the windowsill to Asra’s bedroom. The window was ( as it usually is nowadays ) left cracked for him to hop neatly inside and shift back, borrowing one of Asra’s loose shirts from his bureau and padding down the hall on bare feet.

He found his way to the kitchen before he found any of the Ryus, and was pleased to see a bowl of oranges set out on the table. Sparrow had sent them the other day, fresh fruit costing a pretty penny in the midst of this late and unbearable summer; thankfully, they seemed to have arrived in good shape. Sparrow picked one from the bowl before pausing, his gaze swiveling to a figure standing in the doorway.

A young boy.

Sparrow blinked, orange in hand. The boy stared back at him, then glanced to the orange. After only a brief hesitation Sparrow tossed him the fruit, and to the kid’s credit, he caught it with only a minor fumble.

“Hi,” Sparrow said flatly and a little guardedly, picking another fruit out for himself. He hadn’t been great with kids even when he was one, as if he’d been born with a chaotic adult’s mind in a child’s body.

“Hi,” the boy echoed timidly, picking at the orange’s rind.

Resting his elbows on the nearest counter and peeling his own fruit in one fluid, single piece, Sparrow didn’t take his eyes off the boy standing near the entrance to the kitchen. The two of them eyed each other up for a long moment before Sparrow finally added:

There was something special about seeing Sparrow smile so easily like this, as if the lines that composed his face had been designed to express only joy. Asra would do anything if it meant that he would always see Sparrow like this, accepting of the love that he was receiving and able to give it back twice as hard, returning back the sentiment with a smile that was enough to comfort Asra and keep away all the bad things he had ever experienced.

He would give away anything if it meant that he would always see Sparrow smiling, but for now he was more than grateful to see him smiling only for him, smiling because they knew that each one of them was loved by the other.

The answer did not need to come in the form of words, he could understand anything with his heart without even trying, but still there was no denying how comforting it was to hear it. His eyes closed instinctively as he felt the lips of his lover press against his jaw, his head tilted back slightly to welcome the affection, he did not dare to let go of Sparrow’s waist entirely but one hand did sneak up to the back of his neck, urging him to continue.

His eyes opened at last, slowly as he squeezed Sparrow’s body against his, right after feeling his arms circling his shoulders. It felt like a promise had just been carved into his heart, but it did not feel like a burden, this was perhaps the easiest promise Asra would ever make.

“Never” he responded, pulling back just enough so that he could distribute some kisses onto Sparrow’s cheek. It was unusual for someone like him to be thinking of the future that he might have, Asra was always someone that lived in the present no matter how good or how bad it was, he was never stupid enough to think ahead of himself, he would tackle anything that came at him in due time, however being with Sparrow made him think of a future together. Perhaps love could make him really stupid, but he couldn’t find the force to care anymore. A hundred years by his lover’s side, a hundred years more experiencing a love like this was more than he could have ever dreamed of.

“And I to you” the answer was obvious, another promise that they had made long ago, just right after their first kiss, so soon after Asra had made peace not only with his own feelings but also with the ghosts of his past that seemed to be holding him back. He had got his powers back at the same time that he returned to Sparrow and part of him knew that he had been able to do that just because of how unbearable it had felt to be away from him. Not once had he regretted his decision.

His gaze could not leave the one that was in front of him, the hand at the back of his neck moved slowly until it was pressing against the front of the inked neck and it stayed there as he took in all the promises that were being made, feeling the steady pulse beneath his fingers. He once doubted his capacity of being able to love again and then he began to doubt if he would ever be able to love someone as he loved Sparrow, this had all been lies, because he was now certain that his love for his man grew everyday and that he did not care how much it consumed him.

And then Asra kissed Sparrow just as passionately, welcomed everything that was being offered to him, soft lips and the clash of teeth that no doubt had venom running through them, just one drop had been enough to kill men larger than him and yet he did not pull away, instead his hands, the ones that were able to cause just as much damage as Sparrow’s fangs, now had the different task of picking Sparrow up, after he had just carefully broke the heated kiss and made his way out of the bathtub to carry Sparrow back to their bed.

The towel that Asra had once brought to this flat after noticing that Sparrow did not own any and after complaining about the lack of modesty of the shifter, seemed to have lost its purpose after three years. It did not matter, they would soon dry up anyways and he could reheat the water whenever he wished.

For now, all of that could wait. There would still be enough things to burn down tomorrow and just enough destruction waiting for them outside, but now the only thing that was important were the soft but now unfortunately wet sheets of their bed and the love of his life waiting not so patiently for another kiss.

Sparrow was getting bored, and Sparrow’s boredom was always a dangerous thing.

He honestly couldn’t remember what this party was for anymore -- someone’s birthday, maybe? It hardly mattered, because Sparrow was here on business; his own business, not the resistance’s. His wrist was emblazoned with a neat letter J tonight, peeking from the stiff cuffs of a well-tailored suit that almost made him hate the thick heat that still lingered in the air even an hour after sunset.

His stomach was also warmed with a fair amount of alcohol at this point, which helped neither the heat nor his boredom. Sparrow’s target -- an older woman and an Alchemist -- had taken to his boyish charms a little too well, and after the fourth or fifth round on the dancefloor, he was begging for respite. Partially because he needed something cool to drink, and partially because if he had to partake in one more waltz, he was likely to murder her in the middle of the dancefloor.

For the briefest of moments Sparrow lets his charming mask slip as he moved through the press of bodies and flowy Hearts formalwear to the corner pocket of stragglers by the drink table. He should probably have a glass of water. Sparrow chose another tall-stemmed glass of chilled mead instead.

Moving to the side, he considered escaping to one of the many balconies extending past the dance floor to the only-marginally cooler air outside, but paused as his eyes settled on someone else who seemed to be doing the same. Whatever their clothing, whatever the setting, Spades stood out -- whether it was the straight, trained line of posture or an ambient sense of superiority.

unpleasant surprise;

September 28th, 2024 - after dark 

Diamond faction, back alley

@passcridae​

There aren’t many places, that Nora would call a safe place, but her apartment is one for sure and so is the residential area. She knows all the hidden paths to her place - away from prying eyes - and the people, who might cross her way. Every little change will be noticed and that is necessary for survival. 

Over the course of the years Nora had made one or two enemies. It was unavoidable in her line of business as well as the fact that there was put a bounty on her head from time to time leading to one or two assassins trying to kill her. So she has keen senses all the time and keeps her weapons handy. 

So she noticed the black silhouette of an unknown person within a split second as soon as she entered the alley on the back side of her apartment. There wasn’t much time to think about what to do or how to react and so without hesitation she grabbed her bow and arrow while stopping right in front of the intruder and aiming the arrow at the man’s head. Hesitating means death in the worst case. Through gritted teeth she shouts at the man. 

“Who sent you?”

By taking a closer look at the man’s face now, Nora feels vindicated that she was right. She knew this man from previous jobs in the past as her opponent. As far as she remembers he wasn’t a strong or versed fighter, but she wouldn’t underestimate anyone - a danger. 

It’d been a couple of blocks already that he’d been trailing after her -- the occasional thorn in his side, the mercenary and petite bodyguard who’d popped up more than once to muck up his work. Despite knowing it was nothing personal ( at least, not at first ), knowing they’d both simply been paid to do jobs, Sparrow enjoyed taking these particular altercations personally.

When she finally noticed his velvety shadow and turned so abruptly to draw weapon on him, Sparrow didn’t blink, didn’t flinch. In the past it could’ve been chalked up to reckless abandon; these days, it was more confidence in his own fighting capabilities. This woman who’d managed to beat him so handily in the past wouldn’t have such an easy time anymore. With a straight line drawn between the sharp point of her arrow and the space between Sparrow’s sharper eyes, he didn’t back down.

He raised an apple to his lips and took a purposefully loud bite instead. “Why, you interested in buyin’ out the contract?” he asked as he chewed. No such thing existed, but if she was paranoid enough to wonder, Sparrow would let her wonder. He’d been following her simply because he spotted those familiar blonde curls, and had little better to do tonight. 

Does your muse prefer comedy? Or horror?

Horror, one thousand percent, and surprising absolutely no one. He likes comedy, too, but the rush of a good horror is what really makes him feel something.

Does your muse have a deity they believe in?

Even if his eyes could not detect the moment that his mockery produced the expected results, due to his position on the bathtub depriving him of the holy image of his lover laughing, the sound of amusement coming out of Sparrow’s lips was enough for him to feel content and proud of his poor acting skills.

His naked broad shoulders shook with joy as he laughed along with his partner, yet this did not last for long, but even as the sound died away, a smile remained on his lips, his heart beating dangerously against his chest as he watched Sparrow lean in, only to then feel the comforting press of his lips against the palm of his hand. Asra wanted to agree, tell them all to fuck off just like Sparrow had so eloquently proposed, but the hate he usually felt so strongly towards The Academy was now dormant and his heart could not be bothered with that place now, choosing instead to only find more space to love the man that was in front of him.

For those moments, Asra truly believed the words that were spoken to him, held Sparrow’s gaze with no fear for what the other might see since he knew there had never been and that there never would be any kind of judgement between them. They had seen it all, scarred skin and crushed hearts and accepted it. Kissed the hands that could cause more harm than good and yet trusted them to hold their hearts gently.

“I love you” the confession was rushed, more felt than thought, a weird reply to the words that Sparrow had uttered just moments ago. He left it at that, because someone being deserving of him seemed more of a doom than anything else and Asra didn’t want to think what that would mean to Sparrow.

So he simply parted his lips, following Sparrow’s lead and letting the smoke invade his lungs, keeping it there for a few seconds, one of his hands finding its way to the back of Sparrow’s neck while the other found its place to rest on Sparrow’s waist. “And I’m never letting you go”

The promise was more serious than it seemed, way more truthful than anything Asra had ever said. He had lost so much already and he was not planning on losing Sparrow too.

“It’s a date” he winked, bringing his face close enough to fully kiss Sparrow “I promise that once I burn everything down, you’ll be the first one to see it”

.

No one in their right mind would ever argue that Sparrow and Asra’s relationship wasn’t a strange one, with their love expressed in litanies of violence and a shared and fervent desire to watch whatever got in their way burn. This was exactly why Sparrow wasn’t in the least surprised by Asra’s confession, rushed though it may’ve been. Inevitably he smiled, as he always did to hear those three simple words -- years of hearing them over and over again, whether they were laughed out while drunk or whispered against his inked skin in a heated moment, hadn’t even begun to dull the effect they had on Sparrow’s heart.

The sentiment that followed, though, caught Sparrow a little more off-guard. He wasn’t unused to Asra’s particular brand of possessiveness -- he embraced it, in fact, encouraged and cultivated it out of a thoroughly selfish need to be needed -- but sometimes, it still surprised him. ‘I’m never letting you go.’ The words threaded through his veins with a warmth to rival the elementalist’s own flames, and Sparrow’s breath caught in his throat

“Never let me go,” he agreed easily, inclining his head to press a few distracted, open-mouthed kisses along the proud line of Asra’s jaw. “Not now, not in ten years, not in a hundred,” Sparrow murmured, finding an ashtray to balance his joint at the edge of so he could wrap both arms around Asra’s shoulders now, with a sense of possessiveness all his own. If Sparrow had only ever lived his life from day to reckless day before, it’d all changed the moment he realized how he felt about Asra and how Asra felt about him in return. Not caring whether he saw his next sunrise turned into wanting to spend hundreds of mornings watching the warmth of light bleeding through the window, his limbs tangled in Asra’s, hands wandering over every inch of his skin.

“I belong to you.” If Sparrow had said it once he’d said it a thousand times, whether it was so soon after their first kiss that it was almost too soon to be considered love, or whether he was murmuring it into Asra’s unruly hair when he wasn’t even sure if the other was awake. “When we burn things down, we’ll do it together,” he promised with his gaze locked on Asra’s, soft hazel flickering back and forth between icy blue.

Club was, at best, crowded, and at worst, a nightmare to navigate, at least, if you weren’t Rook. His reputation preceded him even with his own people, and that had earned him a wide berth when he walked the streets, something he likely would have had anyway standing at six foot five with more tattoos than sense most days. He was the epitome of ‘barbaric club’ blessed with the strength of a more capable, more tactical view of the world that had kept him alive when he wasn’t the towering figure he was today. He’d been small in his youth, having to work smart instead of viciously, playing mind games with his opponent that had benefitted a small, mouthy creature trying to climb the castes more than someone who needed to know how to fight- that didn’t stop him from wondering if Sparrow would be good at talking himself into a victory, of course, he knew the shifter had a mouth on him- he encouraged it more often than he would admit into picking good-natured brawls or getting on the nerves of the more haughty, uptight members of Kadeu’s society.

“What you’re hearing is that you should absolutely spend a little time around the ‘upper crust’ that likes to watch mid-ranks savage each other and maybe get a little bit of dirt on those fancy trains on their dresses or scuff a dress shoe or two. I’m not encouraging unrest in my bar, of course.” His smirk spoke volumes, that he was absolutely encouraging exactly that. “I don’t like it when people get too comfortable. Makes you complacent. And as luck would have it, I know a delightful pair of troublemakers with just the rank to remind my fellow Face cards that I don’t exactly abide by the caste system. Besides, are you really going to turn down the opportunity to watch the eyes bug out of the heads of some of these people when they realize they’re sharing space with commoners?”

Rook may have been a King, but it was easy to forget as much with the way he treated people, that fact made all the more obvious as he took his seat in the sushi restaurant, and apologized profusely to the young woman sent over to take their order for what he was sure was about to be a hell of an order, he was famished, and he knew Sparrow likely was too, if the look on his face as the smell of rice and spices washed over them was any indication. Rook was a regular here, often paying them a visit for a round of spicy tuna rolls or multiple salmon temaki off a particularly lengthy training session, spending a quiet hour or so in the back booth the duo now occupied, and while those afternoons were spent in quiet, going over the information in the black book strapped at his hip and his own monetary gains and losses, today, he was thankful to be spending it visiting with the shifter.

“I think if Asra put his mind to it, he could take the champion’s floor challenge easily. a fifty fifty shot if I was fighting for the crown that night, seventy five to twenty five shot if the last hurdle was Minnow or some upshot from another district who wanted to get brave.” Rook admitted with a hum. “I’m not gonna force him to participate, of course, but I’ve got faith in the guy, just like I’ve got faith in you- you’ve both got a lot more fight in you than I think even you realize, it’s why I’m so willin’ to train you, you know, I think you’ve got potential. I don’t waste my time, you know that.” It was the truth, Rook was notoriously hard to talk into training someone, often only willing to teach kids who were just starting out, or young adults with an impressive record already, but he’d been eager to see what Sparrow could do when the offer landed on the table, and he’d quickly agreed to train him up.

“I also think the two of us are about to run up a hell of a bill here, because every word on these signboards is coming off as fancy talk for ‘something Rook really should have been eating already’.”

‘I’m not encouraging unrest in my bar, of course.’ Sparrow’s answering smirk spoke volumes, too, along with the knowing hum of amusement. No one had to tell him twice to sow unrest; he did it often enough as a hobby, not to mention frequently enough as he worked with the resistance. His penchant for chaos was a point of pride, certainly, but it was also just fucking fun.

Sparrow slid into the seat opposite Rook and rolled the ache out of his shoulders and upper back before propping his chin in his hand. He was already thinking about getting home and washing the sweat and grime more than he was about the menu, because that was an easy choice: at this point, he was ready to put away one of everything, and if Rook’s comment about running up a bill was any indication he’d surely have help for anything he didn’t end up eating himself.

‘I think you’ve got potential.’ Something twisted pleasantly in Sparrow’s stomach at the praise, both at face-value and because he knew full well Rook didn’t offer it frivolously. The shifter might still be thoroughly incapable of lasting more than a couple of seconds against his trainer at a time, but to be told by a King of Clubs he had fight was nothing to brush off. Sparrow didn’t even bother to conceal his smile. He didn’t, however, comment on it; for Sparrow, it often felt as if anytime someone was proud of him he was merely waiting to prove them wrong and be a letdown. This, though, he didn’t want to jinx.

 “Yeah, I think Asra could clean up.” If Rook had faith in them both, Sparrow had all the faith in the world in Asra. “And I’m sure you wouldn’t have to force him, either. He’s got a lot goin’ on these days,” -- considering his one or two jobs, focus on graduating the Academy, and any resistance gigs the two of them were sent on together -- “But soon as he has the time, I’m sure he’d like to give it a shot. An’ I’d love to see it.” That went without saying.

The waiter approached and Sparrow smiled his charming smile, gesturing towards what was on offer. “We’ll take one of each. Probably more, but let’s start there. And when time comes for the bill, I’ll handle it,” he added as an afterthought, one finger neatly tapping the table.

Just because Sparrow wanted Rook to end up paying for the meal didn’t mean that he, as a Heart, wouldn’t put up at least a little bit of a fight first.

How would your muse win back someone who left them?

He wouldn't. They made their choice.

Would your muse rather live 50 years loved, or 200 years alone?

Does your muse believe in good/bad luck? How about karma?

A complicated question, knowing Sayge!! Sparrow didn't necessarily believe in luck before, other than he obviously had it bad. Now that he's met someone who can bend luck to her will, he's not sure what to think. Karma, on the other hand: if we're talking about what goes around comes around, then Sparrow is frequently the comeuppance that many die at the hand of.

What’s one thing your faction does you could do without?

Does your muse squish bugs or put them outside?

Sparrow puts them outside. They're not hurting anything, and he doesn't want to clean up bug guts.

Name one thing your muse has lost that they wish they could get back.