Rest in Normalcy.

[Nixie]

Timestamp: 19th of Summer, year 512 AV.

Morning had turned to afternoon since leaving the Sanity Center with a specific goal in mind. And now it was just a few bells before the Stallions Rear would officially open for the evening. If Nixie could have helped it she would have arrived much earlier, but Alvadas seemed to have others plans for her morning. Shifting streets had sent her on a tour through the city before finally bringing her to the place she most wished to be. Perhaps it was that desire that had tempted the illusions to play with her before letting her go about her business. But when the streets stilled, or the illusions became bored with her, Nixie found herself standing before a familiar door. With a relieved breathe she hurried to it, wondering between steps if Victor would be inside or away until opening time. Recalling the first time he and she had met. Even if the same were to happen this time, she would wait; no way was she going to chance the streets tricks a second time today, not after hours of wandering.

Approaching the door with much less apprehension than her first visit, she carried several bags draped over shoulders. As well as a sheathed sword resting across her back. When she knocked, her heart did that little flipping thing; thoughts of the reason she had come today brought feelings of uncertainty. In the time that would pass before her knock was answered, her mind raced with thoughts of the many ways she believed Victor might react to the request she came with. Completely unaware that Seven also resided here. Knocking again with some hesitance this time, she shifted the weight of her belongings. There would probably be questions, and maybe a few odd stares.

[Seven Xu]

Thump. Thump-thump.

The sun had come and gone from the window at the foot of a bed so large one would wonder how it came to be lodged so snug between its walls; its simple iron headboard pressed against the ceiling where the roof sloped downward; blankets were strewn across restless feet and rippled onto the floor like some linen river. It was a chore to rise, to mind the body that stretched across his path and press his feet to the cold floorboards.

“Someone’s at the door,” he mumbled, when Victor stirred.

Seven fumbled at the laces of his trousers, found no fault in the unbuttoned shirt that had been wrapped in a bundle on an old chair, splashed his face with stagnant water from a small basin atop their dresser, and ran fingers through a mop of tangled white in the face of a silver mirror. He was still fingering buttons through cotton holes when he left his groggy, naked bird to thump a path down a narrow staircase.

When the door swung open in a whisper across a dust-riddled floor, Seven’s brows knit together and his flat pressed lips offered no warmth of greeting. “Cadman,” he stumbled for the words, let his mouth hang open for a breath while his tongue pushed at the back of his canines, “Why do you have a sword?”

[Nixie]

Tension wound Nixie tight when steps sounded from behind the door and a handle turned soon after; sending her gaze up to where she imagined a face would appear once it opened. She held her breath in the seconds that passed, readying herself for the site of dark hair and olive skin that felt more familiar than it should have. Unprepared for the face that would instead take its place. When the door swung open, it seemed to move with exaggerated delay; and on the other side, to her dismay, a mop of light hair and pale skin appeared. The greeting she had prepared and practiced several times over before now was abandoned when her brothers name he spoke. Leaving her too speechless to return the cold greeting with his own name. Instead, in her surprised state, taking a step back from the door and wringing the strap of a bag in nervous hands. The question that came next turned her eyes to glance at a hilt that jutted out from behind her shoulder and elicited a few quiet words.
"Um... To stab... things." An uncomfortable pause followed and was only abandoned when she cleared her throat and took an imposing step towards Seven. Turning to look down the street, left then right, before continuing. "Could I come in?" It wasn't opening time yet, but she hoped he wouldn't turn her away. Though if he insisted she come back later, she was ready to bid her time and wait outside on the steps.

[Victor Lark]

“Of course,” answered the voice at the back of the short hall, after the short series of knocks and creaks that otherwise announced his descent. Victor’s hands were still busy on his clothes’ various buttons and strings when he arrived, having decided in half-woken delusions that the day would be worth something. He gave an inviting nod to the woman in the doorway.

Resisting a yawn, Victor rocked his head on a stretching neck and shuffled on bare feet toward the door. His eyes’ silver sheen glinted curiously at her face, reaching for the memory of their last meeting, hoping to recall those traits which had made him seem so like another man. His hand had rested unconsciously on the familiar bend of Seven’s waist, teasing idly at the threadbare cotton between them, until finally it rose take the burden from their guest’s shoulders.

“How can we help you?” Victor inquired, almost kindly. His attention remained on her surplus of things and, deaf to the brief conversation that preceded his arrival, he repeated, “Why do you have a sword?”

[Nixie]

When a voice and pair of feet sounded from behind Seven's willowy frame, Nixie moved to peek. And then there he was, the only person she had expected, and the only person she though it pertinent to listen to at the moment. Sure she had met Seven before, but as far as she knew he was a guest as well. Or perhaps littler more than last night's pleasure to be shooed off in the morning? She didn't care though, her thoughts were on the dark haired man, recalling how strangely their first meeting had ended. She was quick to dismiss it as nothing more than a weird dream though; what else could have made somebody behave so curiously?

After catching the couple of inviting words, Nixie met Seven's gaze momentarily but was hasty to look away before squeezing past the two. Snagging the hilt of her sheathed blade on the doors frame in her entrance. But before she was even through the threshold a question was posed that sent her stomach climbing up.
"Um," she managed, clearing her throat. Before she could answer though, she tipped to one side with the removal of a bag. Twisting and taking a few steps back to counter the lost weight. With a deep breathe in the relief of not toppling over and the repeated question, she pointed back with a thumb. "Forget the sword, I'm not here to cause trouble." Letting her hands fall to tug at the hem of her own shirt. "Let me get right down to it." Looking between the two men with sleep still upon them. "I'm sorry if I woke you, but I've come in hopes that you, Victor..." Her gaze wandering and hands wringing her shirt in the nervousness that built with each word. "If you would let me stay in your spare room." Then eyes opened wide and went to meet his again. "I have some Miza, so I can pay." The words came in a rush. "I just--" Her mouth hung open a few moments while she searched for what she thought might have been the right words. "It's just, this place," stepping toward the pair, hands clasped together and cheeks a bit pink. "It's perfect." It was embarrassing to talk as much as she was. It may have even been the most words she had ever said to him in such a short time.

[Seven Xu]

Seven’s hand moved to clap his neck, scratching the milk-white shimmer that streaked his skin. She’d blown right by him with little more than a half-assed explanation and a dismissive look—it’d taken his tired ego a moment to react, but he managed a fleeting scowl as their shoulders knocked.

“Fancy that, I’ve gone invisible.”

And then her demeanour changed as quickly as anything in their city of illusion. Seven opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t manage a word while the girl fawned over their little black hole of a tavern. “Cad—” he choked, “It’s this place, it’s just” “ung—”“perfect.” he bit his lip, shook his head, and fell into place again at Victor’s side. Seven hadn’t been quite the same in the days he’d returned from his foray into the Kitrean foothills: he’d gotten flighty—more so than usual—and he’d gotten clingy. His slim fingers hooked the closest set of olive-toned knuckles, those unburdened by an overstuffed bag.

“Cadman,” he finally managed, brows beetling over an unsure smile. His questions came, poorly thought and blunt, still fighting off heavy sleep. “You have nowhere else? I mean … where have you been staying? What did you do?”

[Victor Lark]

Victor squeezed the bony knuckles that wove between his, as much a plea for civility as a hasty reassurance. In truth, he craved the certainty of touch with the same secret desperation. Equally comforted by the loyalty in its persistence, he tugged Seven toward the bar and propped Nixie’s things against it.

Wherever his attentions wandered, his eyes always returned to their visitor and her strange fascination with their home. He tried to look where she looked, to find the perfection she seemed to have found, but then his fool spoke a name he did not recognize. He turned on a jerking reflex to that quiet exasperation and said, “Cadman?”

A smile broke on a mistaken realization, and from the cracks crawled the budding weed of curiosity. The game of assumptions had begun.

“Of course,” he repeated. “It’s empty, isn’t it? You can have a room, Cadman, but only if you tell us why you need it so badly. Surely you don’t see a shining manor when you look at this sliver of a place. Are you running from something? Have you a secret identity that requires a shady corner in a dark tavern?

“We don’t keep secrets here.” He gave her an accusing look, but the joke was apparent on the corner of his mouth. He rubbed a thumb in the crook of Seven’s palm. “We wouldn’t want to invite a murderer into our home.”

[Nixie]

When Seven replied instead of Victor it irritated Nixie, but she was in no position to retort when he spoke her brothers name. Only managing a wide eyed glance in Victor's direction with a held breathe and lips pressed closed in the anticipation that he would correct Seven, making the situation more confusing than she wanted it to be. But when he didn't, going as far as to say she was welcomed to stay, shoulders bowed subtly in relief and held breathe was released. Hopefully the odd glance she had given Victor, and the curious way he had repeated her brothers name, would go unnoticed by Seven. But hope and relief were short lived when Victor had questions that expected answers, especially that last bit. Believing that before the conversation was finished he would have her admit to the lie she had fed Seven in their first meeting.

Freeing her other shoulder of it's weight, Nixie thought back through all the questions and accusations, wandering where to start. So many had been flung at her, some of which were not entirely false. Gaze set on the bag she let plop to the floor, her mouth hung slack as she sought the words.
"I didn't do anything." Her eyes narrowing then shifting to Victor's from below furrowed brows, her lips curved into a frown. "Especially not killing somebody." It sounded as if the accusation had hurt her or disgusted her in some way. Whatever joke he might have meant, lost upon her. "If you're going to accuse me of anything, it should be my inability to adjust this damnable city," she spat, before closing her eyes and pressing fingers to her forehead in exasperation, letting out a long breathe. "I was staying at the Cubacious Inn, but even after all the nights I spent there over the last season, the tricks still keep me awake." Her voice was quiet again, back to normal, but they held a tiredness to them. "This city is exhausting. I want a place that wont change of its own will. And if you haven't noticed," raising a hand toward the ceiling, "this place, your tavern, isn't exactly tricky. It's perfect for me. It's what I need." Then after a moment of silence she added one last thing. "Besides, why would I stay anywhere else when I want to be here, with you, Victor?" Such a confession could have so easily been misunderstood by anybody who hadn't been there when she and Victor first met. And even then, it could have been confusing if Victor didn't realize where Nixie's insistence came from.

[Seven Xu]

Little got past Seven, with Victor—not to say he was an exceedingly astute observer—his bird just wasn’t a man for subtlety, and he’d grown used to the deliberation in every smirk and every word that careful tongue wove. His brows rose on unspoken suspicion.

“You know,” he began, breaking away from Victor to approach their guest. Her name rolled off his tongue like a joke, “Cadman. He’s right. We don’t keep secrets.” That was a lie, for he kept plenty. Not from his lover, as hard as he tried, but he certainly kept much from most. “We also don’t board horses.”

To anyone unaware of their short mutual history, Seven’s remark rang offensive. “Besides, we never repaired the room proper since the storm in spring. The roof leaks when it rains. The window is cracked. It’s not irreparable, but it’s certainly nothing worthy of an Inn’s room.” He smiled. A hand rose to relieve an itch on the side of his neck. “Some extra coin would be nice. But,

“I’m going to need a bit more convincing than my friend, here. It’s my tavern too, you know.”

[Victor Lark]

Victor kept his smile up, going even so far as to soften it as Nixie stuttered and glared through her defense. Her strangely intimate denouement inspired him to soothe Seven’s thumb with his own, a gesture which pride would have prevented mere weeks earlier. Though he was almost embarrassed by her presumption, he was ultimately attracted to his success in fooling her, entangling her in her own hopes and regrets. The power in it.

Her stay here had become more than an interesting proposal. He wanted her around, to discover her like he had tried to discover their last roommate, to see if she broke better or worse than others. But he could not take her if it meant crossing Seven. If he wanted more from her, he would get it.

His hand itched to rise to Nixie’s arm or her face in the persuasion, but a brother did not treat a sister the way Victor treated most women. Instead, he craned his head toward the grime-cleaned window and the burdened beast behind it. “Well, I don’t know about horses,” he said, then turned back to Nixie. “But we don’t want any surprises if we’re going to consider taking you under our roof. A place without tricks is hard to come by, you know. We are careful about bringing any in.”

A wink tilted him toward her and he leaned an elbow against the bar. With the inferred question hanging between them, he voiced a more pertinent one. “We understand why you need us, but why should we need you?”