Vermin of the city (Ninus)

[Novus]

As predicted, the release of his venom was far from satisfactory, in any of the physical ways which it might have been. The sensation of dry leather against moist upper lip was foul, and Novus was put in mind of tales of desperate Symenestra abroad and in unanticipated dire circumstances reduced to dining on already dead carcasses, like the vultures they were sometimes compared to. And as a mixed blood, Novus had even greater difficulty digesting the proteins of meat with his dilute venom, and thus was relegated to eating mostly fruit, or cooked, mushy vegetables, or meat that had already been mechanically broken down until it was little more than a puree such as one might feed a baby. Or blood.... But the poisoner’s sharp interest in the substance that exuded in a small rivulet of shining drops from the pin prick grooves in the tips of Novus’ fangs awoke an echoing curiosity in the half-Sym. He wasn’t sure that venom of any potency which had its genesis in individuals of his race was of such intense preoccupation to anyone back home. Certainly his own weak venom would have drawn absolutely zero attention. It was a common place thing, to him, as it was to all Syms. So he was greatly intrigued to hear that this strange man wanted to study it. He seemed quite excited about the prospect – rapturous, almost. And as their eyes remained locked together, while the poison dripped into the vial, Novus too felt some odd sensation of a thrill shuddering through his core – though in truth, he thought it might just be the result of an accumulation of weirdness, since he’d first encountered the giant rat. Or…not. It was hard to gage just what was passing, in that look. And so he had let his own eyes drop, because…it was all just so petching odd. It didn’t take long, not even a quarter of one chime, and when no more drops slid into the vial, the poisoner reached up and once again lightly touched Novus’ cheek with gentle fingertips, just enough to keep the mixed blood’s face still as he carefully pulled the vial away from the now dry fangs. Novus released his grip on the other’s hand, and once again, unexpectedly, that stained thumb brushed across his lips, as Novus closed the sharp points away behind soft, moist tissue. Once again, his lids had lifted, exposing amethyst orbs that reached out boldly to search that other, slightly darker pair. But Ninus was directing his attention to the vial, covering it with great solicitude, and then looking not at Novus, but away, out the sole window. Novus was ready for the poisoner to rise and make whatever preparations he might find necessary before escorting his “donor” home. Instead, in a low, steady voice, he said, "The sun is sinking low on her knees. Mayhaps you can stay here tonight, and venture forth in the morning. Traveler's row is not at all friendly after dark, the desperate and the shambling come out of their graves to feed. The rats are kind enough to leave my food to me, and my cooking is not unpalatable." There was a pause, and Novus was already trying to decipher the true intent in this invitation, if there was one beyond the simple and straightforward meaning of the words themselves. It was true, night must be surely approaching, though in this great, walled city, it was often difficult to gage what time of day it might be. But his glance went to the window and he could see the tell tale spread of shadow in the corners. Still, it seemed another curious moment in this already very curious encounter. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. As he pondered, the fellow tacked on an out, and Novus wondered if he’d been impolite in not accepting the invitation straight off. Or perhaps the man had only made the invitation out of some perceived requisite good manners, and really wished to be shed of his visitor as quickly as possible. But there was more to this than simple etiquette, of that Novus was sure, in his gut. He felt the invitation to be a sincere one, even if the motivation was not completely clear. He hesitated just a fraction of a second, before shaking his head gently and saying, “No. It’s by no means a home to me, yet. It may never be so – only a place to lay my head and store my goods. I’m afraid my home lies far behind me now…and perhaps… far in the future, if I should be so lucky as to find one that was deserving of that title, some day.” He shook his head again. “There is nothing in this city that calls to me.” His face, which had clouded up a bit at such a melancholy admission, brightened again as he appended, “But if you have anything that I could eat, I’d gladly take you up on your offer to feed me. I’ve found very little in this heap of stone that suits my needs.” Novus was making a leap of logic in assuming that Ninus would know that the venom he so prized had its greatest utility in the breaking down of food so the Symenetra could eat. His gaze went to the vial in Ninus’ hand. “Though come to think of it, it may be a while yet before I can eat.” He licked his lips, unconsciously, with the thought of food kicking around in his head. Then his eyes lit on the bed, and he paused, thoughtfully, before turning his gaze back to his host. “As for the rest…I don’t know,” he said softly, though with no trace of shyness or embarrassment. “You have only the one bed, and I do not even know your name.”

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus cleared his throat and felt a blush creeping up his neck. His first thought was to share the bed, but he wouldn't be able to resist touching Novus. "I will rest upon the selfsame boards my dear companions sleep upon." he said after a long breath. "I need only but a blanket over mine hide, and I shall sleep well amongst the rats. But you may sleep on clean sheets tonight, I shall change them for you. To aid in my research is no small feat, and it is but the luck of the evil, thrice-cursed gods that hath brought you to me. A dose of nectar so willingly given deserves a warm bed and good food." Ninus smiled a bit, heading toward what could be loosely termed the kitchen. "My name is Ninus Aurellius, gentle spider." he added. He had a tiny hearth not large enough to heat the room, but large enough to heat a kettle or small pan. He had such a small pan with him, and spread oil over the cast iron from a small glass bottle. Oil was expensive, but he felt a need to impress this beautiful creature. He had a precious commodity he had bought only the day before...six eggs. He would have to use them all in the summer heat. He set them aside and put the pan over the small fire, letting the oil crackle and heat up. He chopped up some spinach and cracked the eggs into a bowl. A few moments whisking with a fork, and he poured the eggs into the hot pan. He sprinkled the spinach over the top of it, and sat back. It was a good hearty meal he'd learned from the bandits. Eggs didn't keep and they weren't rich enough to afford large granite boxes to keep them cool, so the bandits mixed all the eggs together, poured in meat or vegetables, and cooked it in a fluffy cake in a large cast iron pan. Ninus remembered eating it frequently as a child, in slices like one would cut from a pie. If they were truly fortunate, cheese would be melted on top. He let the eggs cook, turning away from the fire and stripping the bed. Rats scattered, a few mating couples broken up by the hubbub. Ninus remade the bed with his only set of clean sheets. They still smelled like rodent and fungus, but they had been washed. Now Ninus could wash the set he'd been using for a few weeks. He hurried back and took the pan from the heat. He set it on the counter to cool, happy to see the eggs had solidified into a flat, somewhat thin cake. Cricet looked at him oddly. She hadn't seen him put so much effort into pleasing a guest. Usually guests were the ones who slept on the floor, and she and Ninus got the bed. The eggs smelled damned good to the rats, and a few reared up and sniffed at the pan. "Away with thee! Thine stomachs shall be satisfied on things of thine own making." Ninus told them sharply, approaching with a clean knife he used to slice up fungus. He sliced two portions of the food on two cracked plates, giving Novus the only fork. He settled at the desk and offered Novus the food. "I'm afraid it is but simple camp food, but it has served me well in my childhood and is quite pleasing to the tongue." Ninus told him. "Tell me, why has home abandoned you so? Or have you abandoned it?" the poisoner asked as he gingerly picked up the hot slice on his plate and bit into it delicately. Despite his lack of eating utensils, he nipped at the food rather gracefully.

[Novus]

What lay behind that long moment of hesitation, before the poisoner cleared his throat and laid out his plan for their sleeping arrangements? Novus had missed the flush of color on Ninus’ neck, for his eyes had gone back to look at the bed, and the floor, and his immediate reaction to his host’s scheme was one of absolute refusal. He’d never be so rude and selfish as to put the man to such discomfort, and once again, as with the invitation to stay in the first place, Novus thought the suggestion was possibly born of good manners, as opposed to any real inclination to pass a night so inconvenienced. The poisoner certainly couched his proposition in the most polite and gracious terms. But then again, what had the man said to date that was not so framed. The fellow definitely had a most peculiar, and lyrical, manner of speech. As for Novus himself, he hadn’t asked the question out of any intent to be suggestive or salacious. He’d merely been stating the obvious, on both counts, and had been curious how exactly they would be arranging themselves, later, when it came time to sleep. The mixed blood was not some naïve ingénue, without any concept whatsoever of what could possibly transpire between shared sheets. Neither was he completely averse to such a development. Novus wasn’t exactly the type to close his eyes and just jump in the sack with any warm body. Yet he had a fairly normal, healthy appetite for such activity, tempered by both the circumstances he might find himself in and a good bit of caution when unsure of how any advances on his part might be received. He couldn’t be sure that Ninus was of a like mind as to himself, when it came to preferring the company of men to that of women. But he had some fairly good green lights so far during this encounter to make him feel at least comfortable that progressing further might be a possibility. As his gaze came back to his host, he made an even more close assessment of the man sat beside him, and it confirmed that which he’d already felt, that he found Ninus attractive, despite the extremely odd living arrangement the man shared with his little beady eyed friends. Such coziness with the verminous rodents might have been a complete abhorrence to many, with more delicate sensibilities than Novus. But when had he ever hob nobbed with the upper crust or rubbed elbows, or other parts, with those who maintained a pristine state of hygiene and home? His experience had been with men who traveled the world and were well used to living rough and ready – clean clothes and regular bathing wasn’t always a part of that lifestyle. Moreover, how many residents of this anthill of a city could claim that they bathed daily and wore perfumed garments, or slept between silken sheets scented with lavender? In a word, though Novus still found his host’s choice of companions odd, he did not find them, or him loathsome. And the thought of perhaps passing a night sharing some physical intimacy with a man who he found to be intriguing, easy on the eyes and gentle of spirit, was far from an unattractive one. But, not knowing what thoughts were circulating in his host’s head, Novus was unaware, for the most part, of the real source of Ninus’ hesitation there. His scrutiny of the poisoner was of little help, and so Novus assumed his supposition was the correct one – that Ninus proposed to make his own bed on the hard floor simply because that was the polite thing to do. Of course, Novus was having none of it – and he voiced a gentle but firm protest, asserting that the floor should be his and in no way would he consider displacing his host from his own bed. Ninus quickly and as firmly deflected his opposition, though, rising to move to a small hearth, and Novus let the matter alone, for the moment. A plan occurred to him that he would set in motion, if needed, later. He’d learned long ago that to protest over much over a generous offer, or a compliment, often seemed to devalue the gesture and return kindness with unappreciation. So he shut his mouth, and determined that a more suitable time would arise to better argue his point, and persuade his host that there was yet an alternative that might provide an agreeable compromise to the problem. Upon Ninus finally introducing himself, Novus smiled, warmly, and with an amiable nod, said, “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, then, Ninus. And I am Novus – Novus Ordo. It’s good to know the name of the man who holds that small sample of my being in such high regard. Trust me, that’s a rare sentiment. In truth, I think I can safely say it’s completely novel, for I’ve not stumbled across another who seemed anxious to have some of my venom off of me.” Novus chuckled. “I’d say just the opposite, in fact.” He watched Ninus with open curiosity, wondering just what he planned to prepare in the way of food which would not totally wreak havoc on the oh so delicate Symenstra digestive system. Novus had no concept whatsoever of how difficult eating would be, when he’d thought to flee Kalinor. He was in an even worse predicament than full blooded Syms, and his diet had been very hit or miss these past two seasons. He’d learned to stock up on fruits and vegetables when he could. But the real lack was protein. There was little source to supply that in the form he needed, other than fresh blood – and that was not so easy to come by at all times. It was just a bloody good thing that he was a hunter and able to bring down prey. He’d found that the other members of the trade caravan were quite put off by seeing him lancing into a deer’s jugular and letting its life essence flow into a vessel, from whence he’d slurp it down. They’d probably be more disgusted to know what he’d really prefer is to clamp his fangs into a still beating pulse and lap up the truly fresh liquid as the heart yet pumped. So in the end, he’d tried to consume blood well away from the presence of the others. This had been nigh on impossible aboard the ship that had brought him the last leg of his journey, from Alvadas to Syliras. To date, for the few days he’d been in the fortress city, all he’d had in that vein was the life essence of a scrawny rabbit he’d purchased live in the market. The meat he’d stewed and stewed and boiled and mashed and mangled until it was little more than a thick liquid, which he had strained through a cloth, and that he’d consumed too. Upon seeing what darling ovoids Ninus now produced, their golden treasures held safe inside the delicate casings, Novus almost spoke up, to say that he’d not mind taking his raw. Eggs were of course an excellent source of protein and other nutrients, but they were dear, very dear, and Novus held his tongue, because he suddenly wanted very much to have Ninus enjoy his own meal, and he would not stay the preparation of such, even if the eggs were to be heated in a way that would change their internal structuring and render them more solid. There was also some odd preference arising in Novus’ breast, for partaking of a meal shared – and truly shared. He’d been an outsider all his life. One of the few things that had been a silver lining to his abrupt departure from Kalinor had been the prospect of perhaps being a little less despised, out there in the aboveground world. He’d heard that Syliras was a city that held no particular bias against any one race or another, as long as everyone behaved themselves as the knights dictated. He wasn’t convinced so far that this was completely true, but it was early days yet, and he could still hope. As his dark eyes followed Ninus’ adept movements, as he began to cook the eggs and spinach, Novus felt a strong desire to have such a man as a …friend. Perhaps, there was a possibility here that he could be viewed as something more than just a research subject. He wanted to seem…more normal, more…human. He wanted to fit in. The ridiculousness of his thinking that sitting here with some lunatic poisoner surrounded by rats, one of which was as big as a dog, was actually a step along the path to that goal of “normalcy” was pretty much lost on the young male, who still had much to learn about the world outside his place of birth. In any case, Novus said nothing, watching closely to see how Ninus proceeded. When his host turned from the cooking omelette to strip the bed, Novus rose from the seat by the rickety desk and moved over to help in the chore. To this, again, Ninus tried to shoo his guest away, but Novus held firm, this time, with a casual observation, “If you are to allow me to enjoy the benefits of clean sheets, then you must allow me to assist in getting them arranged in place.” Ninus had paused but then nodded and together they had made the task quick and efficient. In short order, Ninus returned to his cooking, and Novus turned to gaze out the window. The shadows were in fact deepening, outside in the passageway, but with his acute vision, Novus could easily make out the shifting shapes of the poisoner’s small friends, as they went about whatever business they saw fit to pursue. Ninus’ words brought Novus’ gaze back around to the interior of the one room flat, and he smiled at the gentle way the man fended off the hungry rodents. Novus returned to his earlier station at the desk, sitting and accepting the offered plate with a hungry smile. “Many thanks,” he said, with a congenial nod. “I don’t mind simple fare – I’ve been on the road for two seasons and believe me, I’ve had to make do with whatever ended up on my plate. This smells heavenly.” He took an appreciative sniff, and then carved out a bite with the sole fork. Holding the yellow and green speckled bit up to his mouth, he blew on it, the trail of vapor wafting away from his breath. Ninus, he noted, had no utensil, and made use of his hands instead, which didn’t bother Novus at all. As has been stated, he was never one to attend polite dinners where impeccable manners were the first order of the day, and in truth, life on the caravan route had been rough in the extreme. With hunger now gnawing at his stomach just as the rats about the room might have worried at a stubborn sackcloth full of grain, Novus hastily slid the fork into his mouth, careful to avoid chomping down fully on the hot bit of food. Ninus had put his question to his guest, and a fair one it was, and Novus considered his answer as carefully as he chewed at his eggs. The first and most honest answer was one Novus was taking some pains to avoid making public knowledge. He doubted any long arm of the law would follow him this far, or that the knights of Syliras would give a damn what transpired in far away Kalinor. In fact, they’d probably be glad to know there was one less widow creeping about the earth. Still, it was not beyond reason to think that the authorities of the cave city, or the deceased suitor’s family, might not send forth a vigilante to exact some rough justice for his crime. So, Novus was completely not going to go there, not with a stranger that he had no reason to trust. That thought itself gave the mixed blood a momentary pause, just as he swallowed the first bite of omelette. Was it the height of folly to accept a dinner invitation from a self proclaimed poisoner? He choked just a little as his first response to that was – yes!. But immediately on the heels of that rash reaction, he calmed himself. First of all, Ninus had made it abundantly clear that in the half-Sym he had found a treasure. Surely to poison him straight off would be like killing the goose that laid the golden egg? Or so Novus hoped. Secondly, here was Ninus, partaking of the same fare himself. So that was proof that he’d not slipped anything fatal into the meal, right? Novus had a moment’s uncertainty when he thought he recalled some tales of clever poisoners who first consumed an antidote, so that they could eat or drink of the tainted nourishment with no ill effects themselves. Still, that seemed so very far fetched, that Novus found it ludicrous. His stomach growled again, after that first delicious bite, insisting to be fed. So, with a slight internal shrug, Novus split off a second bite from the wedge of egg and blew on it too. While doing so, he considered another answer to Ninus’ question, which, while once again, was true, still seemed…unpalatable. He’d left Kalinor to once and for all escape the blatant and biting bias and contempt that its residents felt and displayed towards individuals of his own ilk – that is, mixed bloods. Novus shrunk away from offering this as an explanation for his leaving, though, because he wished as much as possible to distance himself from that vision – that he was less than and inferior to, others. He’d tried very hard all his life to counter such perceptions by telling himself that he was just as good as any of the other citizens of Kalinor, and for the most part, he’d been successful. Still, he was very reluctant to state specifically to Ninus that such was the case, though the man probably already knew as much. If he could, Novus would prefer to let Ninus form his own opinions about his guest’s merits, or lack thereof. So, after blowing a brief moment on the second bite of his dinner, Novus offered up the third option, which was both truthful, and safe. “I left Kalinor to search for my father. This is my first stop on that quest, though I did make some inquiry about him in Alvadas. But he was from Syliras originally. So it seemed best to truly begin looking for him here.” Novus popped the bite in his mouth, chewed thoroughly and swallowed, and then added, in a tone that bespoke having repeated the same multiple times already, “His name is Latch, and he worked as a guard, for a merchant named Mathias Sychel. At least he did 22 years ago. He is about my height but of a very muscular build, with dark brown eyes and hair, a tanned complexion and a small scar, just here.” Novus traced his finger across the left side of his face, from temple to cheek bone. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever met such a man?” he asked, without any real hope that this odd encounter with a rat and a poisoner would somehow result in leading him to the father he’d never known. Hell, for all Novus knew, the guy had no inkling whatsoever that he even had a son in Kalinor! As an after thought, he asked curiously, "Have you lived here in Syliras all your life, Ninus?"

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus smiled at Novus' name. "From the ancient word meaning new. It is quite a good name, for you are new to me and new to the world." he said as he worked to get everything ready. He caught a derisive snort from Cricet and gave her a look in response. The large rat sniffed archly at him and trundled over to the pan, breaking off a bit of the omelette for herself and nibbling on it appreciatively. She liked lording this particular privilege over the other rats. Of all the animals in the house, she was the only one who shared Ninus' food, ever. Especially something so expensive and difficult to keep as eggs. The poisoner listened quietly to Novus as they ate, chewing his food delicately. Searching for a father...in a city of fifty thousand. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack, though Novus sounded like he had seen the man before. Latch sounded like the names of the highwaymen Ninus had grown up around. His own father had gone by the name of Churchkey, though only the gods knew if he was truly named after the device or it was a silly joke. But Ninus knew his father's men to have good connections in Syliras...one had to have a good network to survive in the Bronze woods. "A good knowledge of these rogues, traders, and caravaners my father has. Perhaps he could aid in finding your dearly departed sire, though you would have to interest him. He is a mercurial beast at best, a joking fool at worst." Ninus said. "A true jester of the woods, though his jokes sometimes end in sprouting crossbow quarrels and looted pockets. I grew up among these who lay in wait on the sides of the road, and who leap upon their quarry like wolves to take what they need and please. Sixteen of them I knew growing up, who fed me, bathed me and taught me. We moved through the woods like a gang of panthers, never resting for more than a moon. They were my pantheon, my uncles, brothers, fathers, and teachers. One of them took me under his wing, to teach me closely in the manner of how to kill a man when one is bereft of muscle and brawn. The mind always triumphs over the sword, for it can kill before the sword is ever forged." He smiled gently at his remembrance of the men. Of course, things had gone fouler toward the end of his time with them...his hands, stained by working with too many poisons, had given him strange visions. He'd poisoned a few of them, and killed many rats in his mad quest. It had frightened Churchkey more than anything else, to see his adoptive son of twenty years felling men seasoned several times over. How could a gang that had rounded up and killed a full-blown knight just a few years ago start dropping like flies to someone barely out of his teenage years? Churchkey had guided his madness toward the rats, and Ninus had experimented on the creatures. A hideous burden of shame he felt even six years later, and paid for by letting the creatures live, breed, and sleep in his home. He felt he had to pay penance for what had happened to both man and rat. Who knew if his father would welcome him back, now that he had stopped his mad killing and was living a relatively humble life? Churchkey loved him dearly, but two of the gang had grown angry and festered in their hatred for him. The others were but confused and loving family members praying he would snap out of it. Ninus looked down at the memory. Surely his father would welcome him back at least for a visit, and Ninus did miss the old man. "My own father is a man bent to kindness though his life guides him the other way. He is the very spirit of duality." Ninus said. "I was but twelve when I saw him cut a man's entrails from his belly and hang them about him in hatred, and only a candlemark had passed when he had washed his blood and rage clean from his soul and emerged to teach me maths and feed me the selfsame meal we eat today. But he is wise and knows every man that passes the roads he watches and hunts. He is a true hunter of man, he knows his quarry as hunters know a particular stag. My father watches them grow their tines and frolic along the roads, bearing their goods. When they become great, stepping beasts with crowns of horn upon their heads and silks upon their backs, he steps in and cuts them down. My mother disapproves of such nonsense, she is a serpent where he the tiger. Tigers consume the old and sick, but snakes think only of eating."

[Novus]

Novus did not expect any response to his inquiry, other than a shrug to indicate that the one he sought held no place in the memories of the one he questioned. So Ninus’ reply came as a surprise, one that Novus listened to as eagerly as he wolfed down the rest of the savory plate of cooked eggs. The prospect presented of perhaps enlisting either the knowledge or aid of Ninus’ own sire had Novus’ insides squirming a bit, with excitement, and hope. It still seemed a very far fetched and unlikely possibility that he could so easily stumble across information about his dad. Yet…life was strange in that regard. Coincidences did occur, simple or complex though their origins could be, or their outcomes. Novus ate and listened, his mind agog at the strange and rough upbringing that Ninus had endured, his eyes glued to the narrator of such events as Ninus the child had experienced. Did it seem so very odd, that a boy exposed to violence and a brazen contempt for the law should now be living amongst rats and pursuing a life as a poisoner? No…not really. Queer circumstances are like to breed queer lives, and queer people, or so he silently concluded. On the one hand, Novus might have envied Ninus his close companionship with his father. On the other, he sounded like a rather vile and gruesome individual, and the halfblood had to wonder what his host’s growing up years must have been like. No wonder Ninus had chosen to abandon that life, even for this one, which seemed every bit as socially non-conforming, though in a slightly different way. And it was of note that Ninuns spoke little of his dam, other than to cast her in an even darker light than his sire, and Novus had to wonder at what that woman must be like – or if his host had any more or less truck with her than he did his father? Watching Ninus carefully, from under his fringe of dark lashes, Novus felt a growing sense of kinship with the poisoner, in that they were both products of fathers that had probably not given a rat’s ass about social norms. Ninus’ dad at least had been responsible enough to actually raise his child himself, but Novus wasn’t convinced that in doing so he had truly done his son a great service. Well, well, what was done was done, and neither of them could go back in time and change the circumstances of their births, even were that their hearts’ truest desire. Novus could recall how, when he was a very small boy, he would cry on his mother’s neck for one of the many, many insults and jeers that he was subjected to, daily. How he had wished to be like the other children! But over time, he had grown a thick shell and learned to take his pleasure in his own company, and then in the company of the travelers that came to Kalinor and weren’t bothered by what his own kind took so very, very seriously. Now, such things hurt hardly at all, though he was still glad for the chance to perhaps experience something different – a life more accepting, and less demeaning. Looking at Ninus, he wondered if that too was what the poisoner sought… Ninus had drawn to a close with his observations, or so it seemed. So Novus spoke up, now having finished his meal. “This image you paint of your father is an interesting one indeed. For a man to contain two such differing halves must be quite a feat of mental agility – or perhaps it’s spiritual. To get so far beyond feeling the pain of taking another life, well…” Novus did not finish that thought, for he feared to reveal too much of his own circumstance, should he do so. Instead, he switched gears, and said enthusiastically (though in truth some of it was feigned), “I should like very much to meet him, if you could arrange it. He sounds indeed like a man who might know something of my own father. If you would do that for me, Ninus, I’d be forever in your debt.” Novus paused and almost asked after the other’s mom, but at the last moment decided that might be a sore subject, given the way Ninus had spoken of her. She sounded…brutal, which was a complete opposite to his own. He smiled, recollecting her pretty face and sweet mannerisms, and said, “And were it within my mother’s power to repay that debt, she’d shower you with the purest, strongest venom no doubt. You’d be the happiest poisoner in Mizahar.” His tone was teasing now. “She is no snake, but the sweetest spider you could ever hope to meet – gentle, kind and loving. I fear I must tell you I had a loving parent to raise me. I…I’m sorry that your childhood was not such a comfortable one.” Of course, he was glossing over the quite dark blotches on his own, though his mother did her utmost to protect him from those. In the end, she had no power over an entire cultural response, but he always had her love. There were some crumbs on his plate and Novus had been noticing the smaller rats that scurried about his feet. He set the plate on the floor to let them glean what they could therefrom, though he had done his best to eat it all. With his gaze coming to the largest of them – the one which seemed to hold a special place of regard in its master’s eyes – he asked, “Where did this one come from? I’ve never seen anything like it – him…her?” He stretched out his fingers tentatively, to stroke the glossy fur of the creature’s head.

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus smiled and shook his head. "My childhood was not as frought with peril as you imagine. We were hunted by the knights, but my father was clever and kept us safe. My mother was even more so." he said. "As I said, the mind is a powerful weapon and easily thwarts. They live that way out of necessity. They cannot run into the arms of a knight, yet they have laws of their own they reinforce. I was taught well, and I would not exchange my adoptive parents for my true ones, for the mother who birthed me left me in a tree to die. It was only by luck that Churchkey happened upon me and took pity on my cries. I will take you to them tomorrow, if found they wish to be." He smiled when Cricet lifted her head to the petting and stuffed the rest of the egg into her mouth, pushing against Novus' palm. "Cricet is my gift from the gods, my protector and muse. I discovered her one winter in an alley, starving and dying from the cold as I was. She summoned the others of her brethren to keep me warm. She was the alpha there, and grew greatly affectionate toward me in those few hours. She came from a place far away, across the ocean where giant tigers roam like cattle." Ninus said affectionately, reaching out to pet her. Ninus looked outside. It was late. He picked up the now spotless plate from the floor and set it on the table, washing his hands in a basin. He picked through the pile of rags and blankets on the floor. "Come, the day is long and late." he regretted his decision to sleep on the floor. He looked at the thin rags he had to sleep on, and decided to gamble. "Perhaps, if you don't mind sharing the bed? I apologize for my change of heart..." he mumbled. He would just have to behave. He was lustful and lonely, but he was content enough to imagine.

[Novus]

Novus smiled, easily, the tips of his fangs just appearing below the edge of his upper lip. As Ninus had risen, first to place the plates on the table and then to pick through the questionable pile of rags – for rags they were and little else – so too did Novus rise from his seat as the slightly abashed sounding request was placed. He stepped to where Ninus was stood, facing him, and reached, taking the stained fingers in his own. “Assuredly, I would have it no other way, even if I should have to wrestle you into it if you would not agree. I actually had a scheme in mind, to guilt you into such, by dint of my not being able to sleep for worry over your lack of comfort. But glad I am that such tactics will not be required, true though that sentiment would have been. I could not sleep in comfort, knowing that your back was pressed to this hard, cold floor.” He gave those long, slender fingers a small squeeze – of reassurance, perhaps…or friendship – and then let them drop. His hands went to his belt buckle, and without any hesitation, he undid it, and then pulled his shirt from the waist of his breeches. Because it was summer and hot, to one who had lived all his life underground, Novus had left his jacket and coat in his little room –wherever that lay – and he was dressed only in his silk shirt and trousers, high leather boots though, to protect his feet and legs, and simple undershorts of silk as well. All were the color of night – a blue so dark it appeared black, even the boots and belt. Undoing his buttons, he let the shirt slide from his shoulders, and then looked about, before asking, with a bit of hesitancy, “I – I know they are your especial companions, and friends, but…is there some place I could hang this, or stow it away, so that the rats don’t, you know…mate in it?” His eyes were laughing though, as he made his request, even though in truth, he didn’t fancy putting the thing back on if in fact the vermin got to making merry in its silky folds

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus blushed and took the shirt, unable to resist working it over in his fingers a moment. He turned away and opened a small cupboard, gently stowing the shirt in it. He was red with embarrassment, desire, and a lot of conflicting emotions. Here was a very attractive creature, shirtless, in his room, ready to rest in his bed. He swallowed thickly. "It should rest well in there." he said. He went back to Novus, and the bed, but didn't meet his eyes. "I...I should impart upon you a terrible secret of mine. I do not want to seem as if I tricked you with the entire aim of your sleeping body next to mine, but nor do I want those venomous fangs sunk into my neck in anger. So I ask you to listen to me with no anger or disgust, for I had not planned on placing hands on you." he said heavily. He took a deep breath, his eyes scanning over the shirtless form, and up to Novus' eyes. "I know it is the norm for men to desire women, for stags to chase does, for dogs to desire bitches. But I am yet stranger than my home and my companions. I have been cursed with an unseen gnosis, a mark so black upon my soul other men have tried to see me buried for it." he began. "I desire men, though I have not yet felt the touch of a man. I just...have no desire for the flitting birds other men want. I desire strength, and could no more protect a frail creature than I could myself. Knowing this, know also I am no rake or wolf, and do not desire to use you. You are pleasing to my eyes, but I feared you gone had I said something when the sun was high." He bit his lip and looked at Novus. "Pray, have mercy. If you wish to leave, I will not stop you." he said sadly.

[Novus]

Novus was pleased enough that Ninus had found a place to secure his shirt, that it should rest the night through unmolested by undo affection and desire from the verminous occupants of the apartment. For himself, he was in a lighthearted mood. Even if things should not pan out as he might wish them to, still, he felt he’d at least made a friend this day, and that was quite a lot. Having been in the city not even two weeks, it was still a very foreign and cold place, and in truth, he missed Kalinor greatly, despite the coldness he had lived in there as well. But when Ninus returned to stand before him once again, Novus’ expression dropped a bit, for he saw that the poisoner was unsettled about something. His face was flushed, suffused with blood. His voice, when he had spoken, was low and dull, and now his intelligent, gentle, dark eyes did not rise to catch Novus’ in their care. Novus ducked his head a little, trying instead to capture Ninus’, but to not avail. His host and newest companion now spoke in tones that belied any earlier content that he might have held for the half-widow to share this night with him, howsoever that company took shape. The volume was low and the timbre redolent of some melancholy, as Ninus forewarned of some terrible secret he would now impart. Novus swallowed thickly too, his mind immediately reverting to his fears that the poisoner, for whatever reason, had indeed chosen to ply his talents on his hapless guest. There was little basis for this leapt to conclusion, but Novus greatly feared that the secret Ninus was imminently to share was that he had but moments to live. The first part of Ninus’ message was somewhat confounded and lost amidst Novus’ alarmed thoughts, and the mixed blood heard basically only such things as trick and fangs being sunk in anger. Indeed, with each passing fraction of a second, Novus felt that all too familiar tingling prick in his upper gums, that warned of the further descent of those very dental appendages – though to what use he could put them now, if Ninus had already done the dirty deed, he couldn’t imagine. But that was the way of his race – agitation of any kind was like to provoke the further extension of his fangs downward, the better to protect himself, it would seem. Finally though, those sweet, sad dark orbs came up to Novus’, which were now quite wide with consternation, And in all probability, given what Ninus had said, and had yet to add, the poisoner might have concluded that that look was born from some revulsion that the widow held for his “unseen gnosis,” of which he had not fully spoken yet. But as Ninus more fully expounded upon the concern he had, and the truth which he desired now to lay bare, Novus felt first a rush of relief flood through his veins. This was followed closely by a sharp sensation that was some wild mix of happiness and arousal and excitement and… amusement, of the best sort. It was not that he found Ninus’ confession funny, or humorous. It was only that he could have laughed out loud to know that here was a kindred spirit indeed! With each word that Ninus forced from his unhappy lips, so sure that with each syllable his guest would withdraw that much further from him, Novus only felt that much more like crowing – like some crazed rooster who heralds the rising sun as if it was his and his alone to possess and display. Surely, Ninus could not have missed that bright look that illuminated Novus’ face from the inside? Still, Novus was not insensate to the despondency of his friend’s demeanor and voice, and so he waited, politely, to let Ninus finish – though it might have been better to interrupt him straight off and let him know that his situation was not singular. As it was, as soon as that last sad suggestion, or offer, or out, was let slip from those lips that Ninus was now biting in such an unknowingly tempting way, Novus once again reached for one of those stained hands. His other hand he reached to wrap lightly about the curve of Ninus’ neck, his fingers resting against the warm skin, unmoving, as of yet, but hopefully reassuring…comforting. “Your secret is not a terrible one, my friend,” he began, with his deep purple eyes locked on those coal black ones. “Nor do I believe this is some curse, though I have not walked in your boots so I can’t say. If it is, then…it’s yet another thing we share, for it seems to me our lives, now finally colliding, have held much of a common path. My preference is a mirror to yours, Ninus, and I do not find anything to be angry or disgusted about. I’m glad of it! I revel in the fact that some benign deity has brought us together this night. Nor do I have any desire to leave here – to leave you.” Novus stepped closer while at the same moment pulling gently to bring Ninus almost to press against his chest, entwining their fingers together. His heart was beating wildly, from the proximity of one that was wondrously, amazingly of quite the same mind as he was. As said before, Novus was not the type of man to simply jump on any available and willing partner. But he had gone quite without any company of this sort for a while now, and, much like his odd host, he was lonely. Both physically and emotionally, he was in need of this. He wasn’t the perfect judge of character, or sincerity. But he believed very much that Ninus was in pretty much the same boat. With a poignant, quietly joyful look, he bent his head, closer still. “I don’t desire to use you either, Ninus,” he said quite softly, almost in a whisper. “But I do desire you…” His lips closed over those others that beckoned so invitingly, as he willed his fangs to retract to their proper place, for fear of accidentally skewering that softness.

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus flinched openly at the hand on his neck, and his other withdrew a weapon from hiding. A brass syringe, filled with a clear, yet deadly poison. It had not been sense but panic that had bade him pull it, as he wasn't used to such a positive response to his admission. But when he looked at Novus' face he could see the man was anything but angry. He felt embarrassed and silly that he had pulled out the weapon in self-defense, and he lowered it just as quickly as he had drawn it, and set it upon the table. He knew Novus had meant the hand to be comforting...and it was. It helped relax him a little, but nothing so much as Novus' next words. His first instinct was to say Novus was wrong. What else could it be, that he had an unseen forest of knife hilts in his back for the sake of this odd desire? The thought of an unseen god laughing at him as he stumbled and groped for male companionship was all too likely to Ninus...yet here the same cruel gods had brought Novus to him. A handsome, damaged creature who's proclivities matched his own by Novus' own admission. Ninus was cautiously hopeful, but widows were known for their craftiness. If this was some new way of dispatching his weary hide, he had not yet seen it. Novus stepped closer and Ninus felt his pulse ramp up. His first instinct was to put the hand not in Novus' tender grasp against the man's chest, to keep his distance. His resistance softened as that dreadful, wonderful want surged up again. He held his palm there for a moment, heart beating wildly in his chest, his eyes locked on Novus. Then the half-breed's lips closed over his and it was too much. He kissed him back, gently, but all too soon had to end it. He ducked his head and rested his forehead against Novus' chest, feeling something horrible grip his heart and squeeze harshly. He was surprised to find himself weeping against the pale skin, years of pain, lonliness and self-hatred flooding out of him. Of being stabbed in the back, beaten, or rejected every time he had tried. Now someone was here, half-naked and wanting to kiss him, and all he could do was sob. His entire frame shuddered and he put his arms around Novus' neck, pulling him close. Inwardly he was angry at himself. He could drive Novus away by this outburst, what in all the gods' names was he doing? But he couldn't stop, his arms gripping helplessly around Novus and begging him silently not to go. Ninus stayed that way for nearly a half hour, weeping endlessly. But finally he did stop, and take a deep shuddering breath. He didn't feel as if he could speak, but he opened his eyes and looked at what was before him. He wanted Novus, he wanted him more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. "Thou hast lanced a boil that has long since festered on my heart." he whispered quietly, his face still tucked up against Novus' chest. "Have the gods, once so cruel, decided to take pity upon mine tortured soul?" he placed a small, tentative kiss on the flesh under his cheek. "The first creature mirroring mine own heart to touch me in kindness, and I can but weep like a babe with joy." he chuckled wryly, lifting his head to look at Novus.