Diamond in the Rough

[Hadrian]

35th Fall, 512 A.V. outside the clinic of Doctor Petricious evening For all that many considered Sunberth a cesspit, the air was cleaner outside that foul place, and Hadrian took a moment to look upward and track the stars until he found the one he remembered from his night in the astrology tower in Zeltiva with Seven, the one around which Swalden orbited. Then Kseyden's star, and Fyrden's. Those were the worlds from which he called things, some as wondrous as memory-stones, others as terrible as vilemoss. After taking a moment to steady himself and expand his auristic sense like a net around him to warn him of brigands or thieves, he began to walk. The doctor had a reputation, but Hadrian had been terribly ill after the auction last season. He had felt better for some time now, but as soon as he was back in a proper city, he sought out medical attention just to be safe. It had required a bit of hypnosis before he was willing to trust the man to examine him, but he assured the young enchanter that he was healthy, if he needed to perhaps eat more. And so here he was, walking the streets of Sunberth back to where he was staying until a ship could take them to Sahova. He wondered if Mashaen and Farke would remember him, or even make time for him. This was a strange quest, but there was much to learn, and that always intrigued the academic in him.

[Grasis Deviil]

He had heard rumors of this place. A place where people like him went missing. Someone who wouldn't be missed, and had no way to defend himself. Yet he was still determined to come. This was a doctor. And doctors were supposed to make people better. Who else would be able to give him his memories back other than this doctor? But he couldn't bring himself to enter.

And so he was stuck, just watching the rare few enter, and the even rarer leave. Why were they so brave and he wasn't? Was he a coward? He didn't know, he couldn't remember. There, that man. He didn't seem sick, yet he still entered. Why? He would probably be someone that would know more about this doctor, if he could get him talking.

So he wait patiently while the man went in, chewing his lip nervously as the time passed. 'Is he going to live? Is he an experiment?' raced through his mind. He was just about to give up the wait and leave when the man came back out the building. He should go up to him now, before he got out of sight. But wait, he wouldn't like knowing he was spied on in the doctors building. People wouldn't take to kindly to it, especially since he wasn't injured to start with.

Grasis started slowly following the man, at first staying a block or so behind him, but his impatience soon got the better of him and he started hurrying up, closing the distance between them. He had to get this man to speak before he got to where he was headed. "Hello, sir!" he would call loudly ahead to Hadrian, before blushing in embarrassment and looking down, but still resolutely moving forward. "Sir, um can you um, help me?"

After asking that he'd reach up to grip the pendant that hung from his neck tightly, his knuckles going white as his nerves get the better of him. The skin on his bare torso bruised from previous beatings and restless nights on the street. He stands there fidgeting, the ribbons hanging from his pants twirling lightly around his legs.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian knew he was being followed. As he walked, his mind stretched out to sample the auras around him, on the alert for that flare of malice that might be directed at him. And so his follower would have followed him on a circuitous route until Hadrian was sure that he was, indeed, the quarry. But there was no attempt at a knife in the ribs, no ambush laying in wait. There was a cognitive dissonance to this whole scenario, he decided as he turned around at the sound of a voice, young, though growing toward manhood. Was there truly an innocent on Sunberth's streets. It was growing later in the evening, and the lad seemed honestly embarrassed, parts of him bare and bruised in the waning light. Either he was a good actor, one of those who actually believed in his role. Hadrian remained cautious, but also open to the possibility that someone actually needed his help. He was about to speak when he remembered this was a boy -- perhaps jaded by the street life, though Hadrian got no hint of that from his aura, which was coming into focus now he was meditating upon him -- and that he might be a bit intimidating, tall as he was, eyes too bright and hair oddly shot with dark blue by the djed storm that assailed Avanthal, and his cool demeanor. He attempted a smile, but it was as wary as it was friendly. Sunberth was not a safe place. "How can I help you?" he asked quietly.

[Grasis Deviil]

What should he say? He had no idea. This man wasn't ignoring him like others would, but he wasn't warm either. He shouldn't have been surprised. This was Sunberth, no one was ever warm. Maybe with a nudge he would be more kind, more receptive to Grasis. No, he remembered his lesson. If he messed it up, he more than likely wouldn't have a second chance at this.

So, he nervously gripped his pendant in his right hand, his knuckles going white, as his left hand went down to the colorful ribbons falling from his waist, twirling them absently as he struggled to gather the courage. He had to find out, he couldn't just let this opportunity pass. Yet, this man would surely beat him for spying on him.

"Whats it like?" he would blurt out suddenly, cheeks going red in embaressment.

"Th-the doctor. Wha-whats it like?" he would stammer on, looking down at the ground, his foot kicking at it absently.

[Hadrian]

He was so young... Hadrian himself was hardly old, but he was an adult and he had traveled and studied and knew something about the world; mostly he knew that he knew nothing at all, but that, perhaps, was the seed of wisdom. He was used to getting stares sometimes, too tall to be a Vantha, but with his eyes gone unnaturally bright and his hair mottled with blue, one had to wonder. The djed storm had twisted things, but so far they were only superficial so far as he knew. But they made him look a little other, and he had never looked friendly, even when he was being friendly. His gaze shot back to the "doctor's" place, and his eyes went hard. When they turned back on the boy some of that hardness carried over, though it wasn't meant for him. "Don't ever go in there," he warned. "You wouldn't come out again. If you need a physician or a healer, I can take you to where some Knights of Syliras are staying. At least with them, you'll be able to trust they have your best interests at heart." Though he had something of a cosmopolitan experience, he was still a Syliran boy at heart, believing in the general goodness of the Order even though he knew they were not perfect people. But the boy was underdressed for the season, looked battered, had a death-grip on the one valuable he seemed to have, and was blushing. Children in Sunberth, if they lived here long enough, hadn't the shame to blush. Some were actors and confidence artists, but everything his senses told him, magical or otherwise, said this child was lost, cut adrift. After a pause, he continued, "You oughtn't trust anyone in Sunberth. If you were smart, you wouldn't even trust me. But if you're as alone as you seem to be, you're dead meat if you don't trust someone. Do you need help?"

[Grasis Deviil]

Don't go to the doctor? He had to. He couldn't stay away, it was the only doctor in town. He would have to be the one to fix him. But wait, there were others in town who could help him? Was this man lying to him? But he had no choice, he was starting to go nuts. He had to know what happened, why he couldn't remember anything. The turmoil of emotions he was feeling would be reflected in his eye's, as he has a hard time not wearing his heart on his sleeve.

This man, he would help him? He should be cautious, he knew he should. He just didn't care. Life on the streets were rough, if this man could help him, then maybe he could survive. And so he would nod slowly, as if debating with himself whether or not he truly should.

"Ye...yea. I need help...but not a healer." As he says that he'd bite his lip to shut himself up. Why was he saying that to this stranger he barely knew? He wasn't someone he could trust, he looked weird. Odd. And in Sunberth that meant danger. But, he had said it. He had cast the die. Hopefully, it wouldn't come back to haunt him.

[Hadrian]

The boy wasn't giving him much to go on, and he was right to watch his tongue around here. Any other person might have moved to take advantage of him. Though he had clearly been abused, his face and form would be pleasing to any brothel owners or any person with a taste for young flesh. Hadrian shook his head. He attempted a smile; it was sincere, of course, but even his sincere emotions rarely showed. "I'm Hadrian Aelius," he said, putting out his hand to shake, to treat the boy as a human being. "Do you want to tell me how I can help? If not here, I know a little inn around the corner where I can get us something to eat. It'll be warm and filling and you'll be safe with me. I know that's taking a rather large leap of faith, but..." His eyebrows were rather severe, but one rose in question. If the boy chose to run, Hadrian wouldn't blame him and he wouldn't give chase. Sunberth was a jungle, where the strong preyed upon the weak with more impunity than anywhere else he had been.

[Grasis Deviil]

Hadrian. The mans name was Hadrian, he had said. It wasn't a particularly pretty name by any means, but it was something. It was one of the few names he had picked up, and truly believed that it belonged to the one who wore it. This man wanted to help him, no. Hadrian wanted to help him, or so he said. But how could he help him by taking him away from the doctor? He should say no, this man could just be a slaver acting nice.

He started to open his mouth to speak when his stomach grumbled loudly. Looking down he would nod meekly, "Um, a-are you sure? Food? I..i'll tell you there what i need help with if I can eat." he would say quietly, as if embarrassed by what he says.

He couldn't believe what he was doing, trusting this man, this stranger, Hadrian. He knew he shouldn't, in Sunberth doing such was tantamount to suicide, but here he was. His decision made.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian kept his compassion deep where people couldn't find it, but it was there. The younger children at the Farson Home seemed to sense it and crawl into his lap even if he was clearly reading something, but of course he didn't discipline them. He found that he missed the little scabs, and as much as he wanted to see this relic, he wanted to be back to where he belonged. But there was a boy before him who needed help, and while he probably ought to have led him to the one orphanage in town he knew that seemed legitimate, he was also the sort of person who felt in his gut that he ought to do things himself rather than pass the buck. He just couldn't be sure anyone else would do things to his exacting standards. So this lost boy had fired his compassion, but they were in Sunberth and so he would not trust him -- should not trust him -- unless the chips were laid out on the table. He made a decision. "Right, that's the deal. I'll buy you a meal in exchange for that information, what's wrong and what you need. Does that sound fair?" He put his hand out to shake, that anthropological development between humans where a deal was sealed by showing each other a hand without a weapon and clasping them together. "Starting with your name." This time he smiled and it came a bit more easily, wider and sustained for a moment before he relapsed into his general calm.

[Grasis Deviil]

Hadrian held out his hand, meaning to shake. It was an innocent enough gesture, one that should have been simple enough to return. But Grasis stared at the hand, desperation in his eye's. He needed this, he needed someone he could clasp hands with without feeling like he owed his life for it. But, there was always a hidden price, always. And so as he reached out to take the hand, his own would be trembling visibly.

'Starting with your name' Hadrian would say, as he reachs out. That would stop Grasis cold. What could he say? He didn't know his name, would this man believe him? Or would he go on the defensive? He would probably take back his offer till he actually came up with a name. Hesitating a second or two before shaking his head, he would grasp Hadrians hand lightly. His own skin delicate and soft, despite having lived on the streets for a few weeks now.

"My name...Thats something I need help with. I uh, dont really know it." He would say meekly, as if embaressed by his words. But he didn't look down this time, he was determined now to get Hadrians help.