Son "Crow" Masayoshi

“Shit,” Aggie grumbled, feeling a creeping hand near his sensitive area. His hands slid around Crow’s oiled limbs as he tried to push them away. He twisted around, trying to keep his privates out of Crow’s reach. 

@theribaldraven​

Aenon pushed the leather-bound ledger across the table, his black eyes focused intently on the man across from him. “I killed my last accountant. Drank from him, and buried his remains in the orchard,” he began, leaning back into his chair. His right hand was laid upon his chest while he tapped on the wooden arm of his chair with the fingers of his left. “I caught him stealing from me, the bastard. My vendors are threatening to leave, and I can’t make sense of any of this.” His frustration flared like a stoked flame, sounding like gravel in his voice. “So,” he said, tonguing a fang. “Fix it.”

His face was light, though, as was his heart. Numbers were Crow’s dearest friends. Ever since his father had taught him to count on the roads leading back to Aeternum, he had loved them.

If only words and letters were as much his friends.

“Forgive me, my lord,” he said, “I will need you to sit next to me and stay with me—you or a literate servant. We’ll get through this quicker with you reading with me.”

He reached out and slid a blank book of parchment to himself. He pulled Aenon’s abacus close and reset it. He took a moment to sharpen the point of a quill with a nearby knife for the purpose, before setting down the knife and dipping the eagle’s feather into the inkwell.

In neat print, he wrote the day’s date, and underlined it carefully with an abnormally perfect line.

There were months, if not years of records in this ledger. Crow felt a pleasant, nostalgic warmth fill him, a slight smile crossing his usually sullen face, thinking of a challenge.

when there was a knock at the door, grey rushed to answer it first, having stood on standby in the living room for crow’s arrival. he swung the door wide open, eyes twinkling as they met his friend’s. it had been too long. if they hadn’t crossed paths at thorne’s dinner party, grey didn’t think they would have met ever again. he exhaled slowly, though his breath quickly filled his chest to the brim. “hi,” he finally said. “i– wow– you haven’t aged a day.”

“Shaddup about it,” growled a guard with no neck and eyes that popped a bit, like a ferret’s.

Crow sighed loudly.

There was a bakery where his father used to buy bread. They were only three streets away from home, and for a dizzying moment, Crow thought he would be lead there—that this would all have turned out to be a prank. No one had shown him the body. There was no invitation to a funeral for a former pet.

If he looked, he could see the green roof—

—the guard took the chance to trip him while his head was craned. Crow stumbled to his knees, crying out. “We’re here,” said the guard smugly, ignoring Crow as he picked himself up and tried to beat the grime from his knees.

Crow looked up, wondering who of his old neighbors had rented him.

The door swung open, and he found himself looking into the eyes of a pet—a familiar pet—and Crow couldn’t help himself. He grinned. “Grey!” he cried. “Is this your master’s house?”

“Flatterer,” he accused, when his lack of aging was exclaimed over. “You look a lot more mature, yourself. No longer that sixteen-year-old twig I knew! Are you gonna invite me in, little brother?” he said, using the term of endearment he had all those years ago.

“So I’m that forgettable?” Kit teases as he went to sit beside the man, hugging his knees. “Just someone who almost got his hand cut off for theft, and you saved me.” He began the story of how the man had stood in front of his father, and had come up with a plan to help the boy escape. “That night, you drugged yourself as well didn’t you? Not before I left, not before I kissed you as a thank you.”

Throwing his head back, he inhaled, letting the fresh air in. “You did a lot, and even someone as smart as me didn’t think I’d make it out unscathed. I was reckless that time, thinking I could steal so frivolously. I miscalculated, and it cost me only my hubris.”

“Oh!” Crow said, and touched his lips in odd recognition. He leaned closer, and saw the truth on the man’s face.

“I wish I could say it’s good to see you,” Crow said ruefully. “But in all truth, I am sorry to see you here, in chains with the rest of us.”

“I did, after I was sure you were gone, I threw some of our valuable possessions in the water so father would think you’d stolen them, left some marks for veracity, and drank the drugged tea too.” He’d been scared when he did that. Worse people than a young, lone thief could have come while they slept.

But he’d known what his father would decide to do with the young man they’d caught thieving.

Son of a belligerent drunk, and a curious mind were two things that never mixed well together. Kit found this out early in life when he had many questions that nobody seemed to know the answers to. So he sought them out himself, and in his search he found something else. A traveler, whom taught him the ways of thievery, had him learn how to read, how to address royals, and how to kill if the need ever arise.

Now his life seemed rather bleak, unable to venture in his search for knowledge, and bound to his mask of idiocy. But he’d rather be behind the walls of aeternum than stuck with a man who never cared for his existence.

Nimble, and of small stature, these qualities helped him in a variety of ways. Especially now that he roamed about, and found himself staring at someone from the past, someone whom he thought he’d never see again, but recognized him immediately.

A smile spread on his lips as he approached the man, and he spoke nothing more than a whisper, but it held an immense gratitude behind it. “I owe my life to you.” Grinning, he winked towards the male, before setting himself down and hugging his knees. “Never got the chance to thank you properly, but I doubt you even remember me.”

The doors opened, guards walking through, ushering them out into their daily spin around the courtyard. Crow walked outside, found a corner, and sat down. His bangs fell into his eyes.

There was an absence of uncluttered corners in the courtyard. Crow was not the only wallflower. When someone approached, he didn’t even look up.

Until that person claimed to owe him something as precious as his life. Crow stared up at him. He glanced over his shoulder, convinced this man was talking to someone else.

“What did I do?” he asked the young man stupidly, then a flush darkened his tan cheeks and he rubbed behind his neck. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be thick,” he muttered. He searched the man’s face for recognition.

Aggie listened carefully, watching and noting the instructions with care, worried he’d forget as soon as things started. He nodded, bracing his arms, and braced himself. One two three- Aggie pushed, trying to twist Crow around so he could be on top. Tried. 

Crow slid expertly forward, their bodies slick with the oil. Aggie pushed and tried to twist Crow around. Crow braced and attempted to foil this attempt, and slide in close so their bodies could bump and meet.

Though Brutias could have easily injured, or even killed the pet, he knew that he couldn’t. The pet was still the property of the tower, after all, and Brutias was known for abiding by the rules set upon by the council. So as the pet rolled onto his feet and thanked him for the spar, he gave a dip of his head as well.

“You’re most welcome. You certainly intrigued me.” To the point where he’d consider claiming this pet and with his training and tutelage? He was sure he’d be unstoppable. “You still have a way to learn when it comes to technique, but your instincts are something that can’t be trained and you certainly have the capacity of being a skilled fighter. With the right training, of course.” Setting the broken pieces of staff aside, he moved over to offer his hand to the pet. “Perhaps we shall meet again.”

Crow put aside his own former weapons, and clasped the giant master’s hand. “I pray we do, sir,” he said solemnly. “I thank you for your assessment.”

“If you are not heading back to the courtyard, shall I entreat the guards to return me?” Crow asked, careful not to insult the man by acting for himself.

“Aggie,” He said. He held his arms up, letting the oil slide over his body. This part wasn’t awkward, it was barely even interesting, since his first arrival to the tower meant people had bathed him in a similiar manner.  “How do we get started?”

@theribaldraven

Why he had rented the other, Einar didn’t know. He’d just looked nice and the dragonborn had wanted some company. Brutias and his new champion had left the home for the day. Leaving Einar alone and bored out of his mind. It was never a good mix for a dragonborn like him. Bordem usually led to destructive habits, so he did as he’d been taught, he tried to entertain himself.

His intention was to bring the boy back and teach him about his lizards. Probably something he had no interest in, but Einar adored them and wanted to share that with someone. He was walking, shirtless as he usually was, but for once had a pair of canvas shoes on. Something about appearing at least slightly normal.

Crow took a moment to look this man over, from his nude back down the lines of his thighs to—the deep, disgusting mud puddle left over from the morning’s rains the master was about to step new white shoes into.

Crow’s first thought was that an unhappy master would take it out on a slave, and the shoes looked so new it was like they’d never been worn.

@theribaldraven. Kraigh had certainly heard about the old man’s passing. There was no reason to attend the funeral, so he didn’t go. Despite their disagreements the vampire would miss him. He was a pretty damn good book-binder after all. Life moved on, however, and there were more pressing matters to attend to. There was some unfinished business, a loose end that would need to be tied up now.  Kraigh was on the hunt for something. He knew the old man had it, but the other was a particularly clever fellow and made retrieving it much more difficult than he anticipated. Kraigh had always wanted to probe the old man’s son for information, but never had the opportunity. Death often means a new beginning, and this would be the beginning of the sweet justice that he deserved. So Kraigh went out to the tower, silently making his way through the tower before finding Crow’s cell. Once found, he instructed the guards to clothe the pet before delivering him to his abode. It was customary for the vampire to present the pet with a nice dinner. So once that was prepared, he invited Crow into his dining room, allowing the pet to sit at the far end of his luxurious table.

“Now Crow, I’m going to treat you as an equal, and be forthcoming about my intentions for bringing you here.” Kraigh began, taking a sip from his glass. “I’ve never been particularly interested in this whole pet nonsense– So don’t feel as if I’m… grooming you for what normally happens in these sorts of transactions.” He got up from his seat, letting his hand run along the table as he walked over to Crow. “Your father was sold an amulet which was stolen from me centuries ago. A very expensive amulet of a certain sentimental value.”  He stopped as soon as he got behind the younger man. This was centuries of feelings bottled up into one single moment, and he could taste how close he was to getting this amulet back. He leaned in, close enough to where his breath could touch the other’s skin. Kraigh bared his fans, letting the teeth run along the skin, starting from the bottom of the neck before touching Crow’s ear.

Compared to what they ate in the tower, however, this was quite a feast, and he was eating a bit quickly, though staying on the polite side of the border between manners and a lack of them.

He sawed off the steak, eating it while he still could. He glanced up at Kraigh warily as he stood and walked to him. He forced himself to swallow, drinking the wine to dislodge the food sticking in his throat.

Crow listened to the man advancing on him, taking a second swallow of the wine, waiting to be told why he was here, finally wearing clothes for the first time in who knows how long.

Whatever this master wanted, he hoped he could give it to him.

But when Crow heard what it was he wanted, he swallowed thickly, a third time, hoping his sudden nerves weren’t apparent.

Oh, he knew the amulet alright—a beautiful piece with scrollwork of white gold layered over a fount of rubies and diamonds, with flat obsidian backing, polished so you could see your face in it. The chain was golden too. It was the only truly powerful amulet Crow knew his father had. And unfortunately, Crow knew just where it was hidden.

It was stashed in a cache by a field in Crow’s hometown.

There were a number of reasons Crow couldn’t give this man this location, and they were all deadly serious. Crow was walking a tightrope, hiding that he’d been a hooker as a very young child. Crow’s hometown was filled with people who knew the truth, including his mother’s old pimp, and any one of them could blow the top off of Crow’s cover and cut his desirability into strips.

Better to play dumb, Crow decided.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, to buy time to prepare the ruse. “Amulet,” he intoned. He was clever. He was not going to lie obviously by claiming he’d never seen one before. “We had a few of those. Do you mean the sun ray amulets?” He named a moderately priced selection that would have been auctioned off with father’s things. He told the man as much, feigning ignorance. “Those would have been with father’s estate. I’m not sure where they would have gone from there.”