[Golden Dragon] Slender Grace [Private - Hadrian]

[Tyrgan Iceless]

TS: TBD by Hadrian

Before the curious boy was a plate of food and a glass of wine of the red variety. He was an odd boy by anyone's standards, possibly one of a just a few or perhaps the only one like him. His skin was dark, inky black to be more accurate, and completely smooth. His nails were longer, like a woman's; dark and thick. His longish hair was pulled back in a tiny bun at the base of his neck though tendrils of silky black hair still swept across his brow, hanging like curtains above his delicate features. Tonight, or at least for now, his eyes were the color of his wine: red. How odd the boy was.

This was Tyrgan. Tyrgan Iceless. Born and abandoned of and by the Vanthans and the Zith. All come gawk and coo at the curiously beautiful monstrosity that is he. Or so Tyrgan thought, but then again he did not have a very high tolerance. The wine, just a few sips in, was already giving him a buzz. It would help if he touched his food, but he did not. Why did he order his meal? Because that is how he got his wine. Tyrgan hated eating, truly, and he never did it in public if he could avoid it. With long, delicate fingers, he held his fork, dancing it around his plate like a lady without a partner.

Tyrgan Iceless. Not even a name he had chosen but then only name he had ever known to have. And now, even his master was dead. And what gift had he left his favorite most prized pet? Freedom! What was Tyrgan supposed to do with that? He did not know! He could not serve it or keep it warm in bed at night; nor could he obey it or be sold from it. It was this thing. This completely intangible thing that he had no idea what to do with. He did not like it. He did not like slavery either, but at least he knew slavery. This freedom thing was completely foreign.

Tonight, he was dressed in the garb he used to wear in his gilded cage--no pun or metaphor at all. He wore a wrap of golden-tinged white cotton around his waist that exposed much of his dark, slender legs. They were fine legs, slender and shaped, but much too thin and much too feminine for a man. His master had loved them. Loved to stroke them and tie them. Tyrgan shook his and took another tiny sip of wine. His chest was partially covered by a tiny beig vest stitched in gold-colored threads, which left his flat stomach completely exposed. Around his neck was the more curious thing of all: a gold color with a single loop through the end, all that was left of a long chain.

Wine-red eyes scanned the small alcove he was in: no one besides himself here for now. Good. Or... bad. Tyrgan did not know. He did not know without someone telling him so. He fought a sob. He hated this.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian normally didn't frequent places like this. He had always known about the Golden Dragon -- what Syliran bred boy didn't? Of course, it was only now that he was a man and graduated from the University of Zeltiva that his elder brother had cajoled him into accompanying him on the premise that 'a man has needs'. So he had heard. Still, he would have declined had his sister not made eyes at him, begging eyes, begging him to accompany their brother, who, it seemed, had become something of a wastrel with regard to wine, women, and gambling. None of this shocked Hadrian. He liked to think of himself as a man of the world. Growing up in Syliras, spending his early adulthood in Zeltiva, and traveling a good bit of the continent, including, most recently, fabled Sahova, one acquired a certain amount of polish. Or, if not polish, something cosmopolitan. Yet here he was when he would rather be at home with a book, and his brother was getting out of hand. Hadrian was tall -- quite tall -- but he hadn't the physical presence to intimidate most, nor the sheer muscle to keep his brother in line, and so he had stepped aside as security moved in to hover. In the halls he was approached by men and women, all beautiful, all declined, until he stepped into this room seeking calm and solace, his finger hooked into his collar, pulling it away to let a little air in. Then he saw the midnight creature with its food and its cup. It -- he -- was a strange and wonderful marvel, so much so that it stopped Hadrian in his tracks. After a moment, he began to blink, social awkwardness setting in quickly. "I apologize. I was only looking for a little space out of the way... I didn't mean to interrupt you..." He was already back peddling.

[Tyrgan Iceless]

Liquid wine-red eyes turned lamp-like upon the newcomer and instantly changed, melting, fading, and metamorphosing into a softer shade of yellow: the color of a candle in the middle of the night. A curious characteristic and one that Hadrian could see plainly as the eyes were pointed at him most directly. A gift from his mother, a Vanthan woman, though the meaning behind the change was largely lost on all, even him. But the now-yellow eyes roved the new entry with curiosity, not knowing what to do with the apology whatsoever. He blinked in confusion, his thick lashes meeting momentarily before splitting again to reveal vivid, lamp-like yellow.

Tyrgan knew he was strange and was used to stares. He was just foreign to apologies.

"It is okay. Please do not worry. Would you like some of my wine or perhaps some of my food?" He crossed and recrossed his legs carefully, shifting himself in his seat. He looked away and then looked back, "Would you like to have a seat?" Tyrgan was clearly at a loss as to what to do in this situation, so he turned to studying his new visitor with a cautious eye. He was tall and lanky, not as filled out as his old master had been but most certainly younger. And there was a hint of beauty there, though that was not something Tyrgan looked for. He cared now.

"Who are... you?"

[Hadrian]

"I... oh." Well, he hadn't expected he would be invited to table. Of course, he had already eaten with his brother, hoping the food would slow down his body's absorption of alcohol, but it could only do so much, and if his brother was going to get himself in trouble, Hadrian needed to keep his wits about him so he had only sipped at his own wine. At least he wasn't the one paying. "Well, if you don't mind me sitting in here away from the ... rigmarole. But I've already eaten, thank you." He sat abruptly; no one had ever called him graceful. Everywhere in the Golden Dragon seemed tailored to put one at their ease, even little alcoves like this, but Hadrian was not at ease. His brother was almost as bad as the pyromaniac homicide suspect he had babysat in Zeltiva one night. "I apologize for staring," he said, another apology on top of his original. "I've never seen someone quite like you before." There was no negative judgment in his tone of voice, but merely a statement of fact. His eyes dropped to take in other details, such as what the black-skinned creature was eating. He wondered if he was sitting with some wizard's familiar or if there was some other explanation for the flawless obsidian skin and lambent, shifting eyes. It occurred to him then -- his mind never stopped whirring -- that a wizard could be an asset to a place such as this: philtering aphrodisiacs to put in the food and wine, hypnotizing people out of their mizas, or any number of functions. Perhaps he could get some part time work doing as much. Certainly he needed to keep up with his philtering or else he would have to rely on other people to do things that he should do himself. "I... oh, I'm Hadrian," he said, putting out his hand to shake. "Hadrian Aelius. A pleasure to meet you..."

[Tyrgan Iceless]

Tyrgan continued to watch the boy until he unceremoniously sat down at which point Tyrgan seemed to gain a new self-consciousness and looked down at his food. The food that the man before him had denied. Oh what a waste it was! A delicately shaped hand reached out and clasped the goblet of wine, his long claw-like nails wrapped securely around it. Gently he lifted it up to his lips, turning his head away for a moment so that he could take a sip. Sitting so, the luminescent Seer's Lily that was embossed on his obsidian skin was exposed to Hadrian's view; it was as bright and contrasted as a moon in the night sky.

Tyrgan set the goblet down again and turned to his visitor, still at a loss as what to do. At least he had a name now. "Hadrian, is it? That is a nice name. I am Tyrgan. Tyrgan Iceless." He smiled though his lips were a mere echo of what a smile should be. There was a humor in his name, a joke that his Master had wished to make about his heritage when he named him. Tyrgan was part Vantha but had never been a true Vantha. So he was like ice without the ice, thus: Iceless.

The oddity was used to stares. He had never met anyone else like himself nor known anyone had. For all he knew, Tyrgan was the only Vanthan and Zith creature to ever walk the lands of Mizahar. He raised a hand dismissively, "Stare away. I am used to it, after all. I have never met anyone like myself or seen anyone like myself before." While his words were tinged slightly with melancholy, he did not seem to be offended or displeased with stares. It helped him earn a living after all.

"So Hadrian," Tyrgan turned to his guest again, his eyes melting back to red, though they were brighter and glittered more this time. Like a glass of wine with a candle behind it. "What brings you here this evening? And are you sure there is nothing I can bring for you?" The food grew cold between them, as Tyrgan certainly had no appetite for food. The question was purposefully asked; Tyrgan wished to see if Hadrian was here to... satisfy the flesh.

[Hadrian]

"Thank you, Tyrgan," he said as, given permission, he stared. "Tyrgan Iceless." His gaze was intent with interest, though likely not of the sort that an employee of the Golden Dragon would appreciate. A painter might pay someone for the pleasure of painting them, but Hadrian's recent experience in Sahova, particularly that with the discipline of malediction, had him looking at people and wondering what properties their body parts might lend his magic. Of course he was not about to go grave-robbing necessarily. Malediction was a curiosity at the moment, another sort of learning that might help him with his more sanguine magecrafting. But that didn't stop him from wondering. Hopefully his calculating gaze would never get him into trouble. But Tyrgan was marked by Avalis, and Hadrian's master in the art of malediction had had several fetishes made of Konti flesh, and the connection there made the wheels in his brain turn faster. "Family tragedy," he said, his offhand manner of speaking perhaps confusing. "My brother needed to escape and I was charged with keeping him safe. My hope is that by now they have fed him some concoction heavily influenced by the poppy so he will sleep. Of course, I will have to hire someone to carry him home if that is the case." Else Hadrian would have to spend the night there, waiting for his brother to wake. He sighed. "What brings you here?" he asked, "Other than the obvious."

[Leviathan]

Thread Award! Hadrian   Skills Skill Gain Info. Observation 1 Basic Observations of Surroundings   Lore The Beauty of Novelty Tyrgan   Skills Skill Gain Info. Interrogation 1 Basic casual questioning   Lore N/A