Completed [Soothing Waters] Lap Of Luxury (Matthew)

[Razkar]

42rd of Summer, 513AV
Soothing Waters Bath And Massage
12th Bell

"Hello there. What can I... help you with?"

To those people that knew Ivis Balak, that minute pause would have been shocking. The tall, dark human with a lean build and a few days growth of beard had seen savagely wounded knights kick open his doors and their comrades holler for aid, and he'd directed them without a tremor in his voice. But seeing someone like... this, walk into his place of business was... well, unusual.

"I would like a bath, please."

Razkar smiled, making sure to do so without show his teeth. It do so make the barbarians shudder, seeing his filed and sharpened front teeth glinting at them like he was sizing up their faces for where to bite, and he had no intention to do harm to any or all today.

He was, however, filthy. Thus...

"Of course, sir." You have to hand it to Ivis, the man could rally like no-one else. Shoulders straightened and eyes keen, he dipped his quill in an ink well and it however over the scheduling form. "And what would you require today, Mister...?"

"Razkar." The Myrian said, bowing slightly in the proper fashion, metal clanking on his harness as he did so. "Razkar of the Shorn Skulls, Son of Yurta and Zek, Child of Myri, at you service."

"I don't think I need a warrior, but thank you."

Razkar's lips quirked once. So refreshing to find a human with some spine to him. He cocked an eyebrow and looked around the waiting room. It was... rich. The marble and the stones all crafted with diligent and expensively-paid care. The smell of steam and soap and lavender permeated everything: even here, he felt a bead of sweat on his brow.

"I would like bath please. And clothes washed."

"You will have to leave your weapons, Mister Razkar."

"Not 'Master', friend, just 'Razkar', and no weapons is not possible."

Ivis's smile tightened a little: "Not impossible, Razkar, you just don't want to, and with respect, I'm not allowing anyone, Myrian, Knight or bloody Alvina, traipse around my patrons festooned with steel while they wander naked and helpless."

He expected, as many barbarians did, some explosion of frothing violence from the Myrian. He didn't fear it, though. As I mentioned above, Ivis was no stranger to horror and pain and the ravages steel could reap on the body. But when it was his body...

What happens happens... and I have my standards.

"... you have point, barbarian."

Ivis blinked. Should he be impressed at the Myrian's restraint or insulted at the term he'd used? Razkar began rummaging around in his pocket for gold, speaking as he searched.

"I understand you... rules. Everyone has rules. But Child of Myri cannot be unarmed. Is not... natural. So make compromise." He hefted a bag over his shoulder, filled with smelling garments, aside from the simple loincloth and cloak he wore at the moment, and his harness. "How much for private bath, with soap, and towels, and wash all clothes?"

Ivis bit back some crack about compromising with a bloody savage and totted up the amounts instead, not even needing to move his lips.

"How many garments do you-oh, have a good afternoon, Mrs. Trelawny!"

A jewel-encrusted female who stank of powder and ermine floated past the barely-clothed barbarian. Razkar nodded respectfully, lower than usual since it was a female, and she nearly flinched.

"Y-You, too, Ivis!"

The two males watched her practically scurry out the door and Razkar sighed, shaking his head.

"Such a skittish breed."

"What was that?"

"I said I have four garment in bag."

Ivis finished his addition, and...

"Four copper pieces for the laundry, five for the soap, two for two towels, and one gold piece for the private pool."

Razkar nodded.

"Five mizas."

"Um, no, that would be-"

"No." The Myrian shook his head and dropped five gold-rimmed coins, one by one, in a neat stack before Ivis. "That is what I give you, not how much things are. I know is much more than you say, but compromise, yet? Ah... compensation, that is word? I take one weapon-" there was a sigh of metal on leather and he showed the double-head dagger that had been sheathed and hidden at his back "-this weapon, into private pool. So silly savage feel comfortable, hmm? And for that, you get... what, three time what really costs here? I think it is a good deal..."

Ivis had to admit, it was. He had his standards, his rules, passed down to him by his father, and they all had their place... but he didn't sense any beserker tendencies from this Myrian before him, and couldn't believe he was actually thinking that. Razkar could be lying, of course, but his reasonableness... it was so strange. His eyes floated down, slowly but inevitably, to the stack of gold... and he nodded down the hallway.

Hand closing around his gold.

"Changing rooms are the first room to the right, Razkar. Stow your weapons there, your purse ad your rucksack, and one of my staff will take your clothes along with the rest. Towels and soap at at the entrance to the private baths, just pick one that's free."

Razkar nodded his thanks and smiled, this time just showing a sliver of shining tooth between his parted lips.

"My thanks... Mister...?"

"Ivis. Ivis Balak, Razkar. Son of... well, that's hardly relevant here. Enjoy your bathing, sir."

"I will."

And indeed he did, even sans weaponry. Less than ten chimes later there was a contented and naked Myrian lounging in one of the private pools, a huge circular affair made of marble and deep enough to be stood in at one end or lain in at another. His tanned, scarred arms laid out straight on the edge of it, head back in a pillow made of a towel, eyes closed and sweat coating him but in a... pleasant manner.

His arm shifted and the dagger under it did so, too, a minute scraping of metal on marble reassuring him it was still there. The rest of his harness was hanging up in a locker, along with everything else, the Myrian taking only soap, towels and this dagger with him to the pool.

And still, he sighed. Razkar had always been a firm believer in getting the work out the way before his play, and cleanliness was definitely work.

Don't look at him like that. He's a male, after all.

But he had yet to take up his soap, bewitched by the soothing, warm water so that once he was immersed in it, he wished only to go limp as a boned fish and just enjoy it. He could barely even remember the last time he'd had a hot bath. Riverfall, maybe? Could be. He washed every morning in the Suvan but that was cold sea water, not warm bath water, and, well...

You have the money. Why not do some good with it? Well, good for you, anyway.

Another sigh, this one more relaxed. The Myrian smiled upward as he opened his eyes. A delicate and probably ancient mosaic covered the ceiling, visible even through the tendrils of smoky steam filling the room. It was some story from the old days, he was sure. A gleaming warrior, body bulky with silver armor, lance in hand, face barely-visible through his helmet...

Razkar's smile became a grin. The beast he was fighting... Goddess, you'd almost think it was a giant Myrian...

A throaty chuckle filled the private pool and his muscles rippled, content and at peace in the lap of luxury.

Receipt-5GM

[Matthew]

Matthew strode through the halls of the Soothing Waters, patiently making his way to one of the public baths in the back. He was fully nude, having just taken a good 10 minutes to put a painful amount of attention into folding his clothes. After they had been tucked into proper and neat little squares, and after they had been safely packed away, then he had decided to was time for a little relaxation. A bath was one of his secret pleasures. There was something about cleaning every inch of dirt from his slim and defined frame that brought a certain level of delight to him. Washing through his hair, shaving, styling, applying scented oils... it was all something that he could probably indulge in for hours. It was part of his job to keep up appearance, and really, he enjoyed keeping up appearances. He assumed a lot of the men and women in the bath did. There were quite a few people in Syliras who couldn't afford it, or didn't particularly want to afford it. If they were here, they must care something about their looks. It was about then when he casually strode by one of the private baths, his blue eyes glancing in to check out the fashioned interior. He instantly paused as his gaze caught Razkar, and Matthew just... stood there. A Myrian Warrior covered in skulls, laying casually in a bath. Perhaps it would be awkward, perhaps it would be intimidating. The harlot was just standing there, blue eyes steady on the warrior, matching gaze and holding it quietly if the Myrian noticed his presence. Matthew was fully nude, not a stitch of clothing or even a towel worn to cover himself up until he made it to the bath. He seemed perfectly fine with this though, his body openly facing Razkar. His brow furrowed for a moment, as if he was trying to figure something out. There were definitely gears turning in his head. Now that he thought about it, the savage hadn't smelled when he had first met him. For some reason, mostly his appearance, you would think he would smell. Like blood, or death, or something. But no, apparently he took baths like every other normal person. Interesting to know. Casually, Matthew would finally break any gaze they had formed, and glance up at Razkar's long hair. Something dangerous flickered in those crystal eyes, and then, Matthew did something that not a single person in Syliras had actually seen yet. He smiled. Not just any normal smile. This wide, ear to ear smile that showed teeth. Like a shark. Very much like a shark. It wasn't particularly intimidating, it was merely weird. The harlot had gone from a poker-face to a full-blown madman grin in the blink of an eye. Another blink of the eye and he had vanished from the door, like some sort of ghost whore. Then there were the voices, if Razkar cared enough to try to hear. Matthew's calm tone was easy enough to pick out, and since Razkar had just had a conversation with Ivis, he would be able to recgonize his voice as well. Him and Matthew seemed to be having a conversation... but about what? It only lasted a few moments before Matthew suddenly reappeared, carrying his own bars of soap and a bucket. The smile was gone, replaced with that apathetic expression and focused stare. He moved gracefully into the room, apparently not at all peturbed by the fact that it was a private bath. A private bath Razkar had paid specifically for. Not only that, but no one seemed to be stopping him. Was it because the private baths didn't exactly have armed guards (for really, who would simply waltz into a private bath), or was there something else going on here? Nodding politely at Razkar, Matthew made himself at home. Even if he looked calm, he was secretly praying the warrior across from him wouldn't reach out and pluck his teeth from his mouth or something equally as gruesome. He didn't have Edreina here to protect him now. Even so, there was something worth putting his hide on the line for. Slowly settling down into the hot bath across from Razkar, he wiggled into a comfortable position, and glanced up at the man. A hard swallow betrayed his nervousness, then a small and professional smile was offered. "Hello, Raz-kar. Is your day going well? How goes the relationship with Edreina? Are you two lovers?" It was a sudden question, but it was stated innocently. It was innocent. Matthew didn't blink or crack a smile. He was genuinely curious, and wasn't afraid to say what was on his mind. He saw it silly to do otherwise when trying to hold a civilized conversation. The idea that it could be a sore topic didn't even occur to his socially inadept mind.

OOC1 gold for public bath. Bartered to slip into the private bath, which can be explained to a mod if requested.

[Razkar]

"Must be the steam... getting to me..."

That was the only explanation to the specter in the doorway. Razkar saw the shadow fall across the entrance to the room and instantly his hand fell to the hilt of his dagger, body tensing as he turned.

"... Matthew...?"

It was him. Tall, naked, sculpted like one of those statues that the females her swooned over, tanned and unattainable. But... silent. Razkar blinked, but the vision was still there. And just as he was about to admit this was actually happening by further questioning, the image grinned. Not smiled, or smirked. Grinned.

Razkar assumed they put something other than steam into the atmosphere.

He shook his head, wiped his face and when he looked back, the vision had gone. Fine, then. Time to get washed and scrubbed before...

The Myrian's hand paused halfway to the soap. Voices... familiar ones. The stringent, calm tones of Ivis were known to him of recently, but the other... yes. He was sure he knew it. That voice had slithered into his mind once before, then chatted with him amiably enough afterwards.

"... no."

Yes. Matthew strode back into his eyes, still naked and utterly uncaring of it (then again, so was Razkar), tipping him a quick nod of greeting. The Myrian's jaw dropped a little in surprise, watched the human slide into the other side of the bath, muscles rippling and body moving so smoothly that barely a ripple trembled along the surface of the hot water. Finally, after placing down his bucket (and that was a whole fresh question in Razkar's mind), he spoke.

"Hello, Raz-kar. Is your day going well? How goes the relationship with Edreina? Are you two lovers?"

Razkar blinked, and it took him a tick or two to come up with his reaction. He wanted to be offended, and yet... he'd seen the humans Adam's apple race up and down quickly, the heavy swallow of a man about to leap into a lion pit. Evidently he still had some effect over the human. That was good. He'd need to be reminded of it. But the words... oh, how he wanted to hear malice behind them, or sarcasm, something he could work with and justify his-

What, exactly? Cutting his throat? All that talk to the boy up front about compromise and the savage doesn't even last a bell without slicing someone up? Calm yourself.

"You pronounce name good," he said carefully, voice the same accented growl as Matthew remembered, though his vocabulary was apparently improving, "Not many do. Edreina is fine, and I am sure she would thank you for asking. As for... other..."

A casual gesture. Just as Matthew's words had been. Innocent, almost. Aside from the fact that Razkar had used a gleaming, curved double-headed dagger to scratch his cheek, drawing it up slowly from its hiding place under a towel, there was nothing savage about the movement at all.

Not even when his eyes bored into Matthew's as he spoke, light and pleasant smile touching his lips.

"... affairs for me and her, not all, yes? Now what do you do in private bath, male?"

[Matthew]

Of course the Myrian had a blade. Why had Matthew somehow settled with the idea that he wouldn't have some sort of steel on him? Once again, the harlot's adams apple bobbed quickly up and down. Though he was good at keeping his face fairly straight, there were all sorts of other little tells that Razkar would likely delight in. There was the hard swallow, the sharp stare of blue eyes locked upon double-headed steel, and the slightest of shifts backwards. The shift backward didn't really do much, only further pressing Matthew up agaisnt the wall of the private bath. He studied the blade for a moment, then blinked, as if remembering that Razkar had asked him a question. Giving the steel one last glance, he slowly pulled his gaze up to match Razkar's. Was that intimidation? It was working. How could he combat such a thing? Did he even have a way to combat such a thing? He wasn't like he could pull a knife out of thin air and wave it around casually. "Ah, yes. I apologize. No doubt you have a good handle on and excellent understanding of those particular affairs. I'll pry no longer." Bleu eyes glinted, shining with some devious sort of intellect. There was a plot to those words. Razkar might sense the barb in them. Matthew lounged backwards, his arms spreading out to either side of him on the rim of the bath, his body stretching a bit as he continued to lock eyes with the Myrian. Inside, he was screaming. What was he hoping to accomplish here? Was he looking to make an enemy? Oddly, he wanted to make a friend. He found himself caring for Edreina, and in a way, he found himself caring for the man in front of him. He wasn't so sure if it was actual care, curiosity, or a business sense that alerted him to a potential customer. What was even odder still is that this seemed like the logical way to go about befriending the man. He wasn't even sure how he had been led to that conclusion. There was also something he felt he had to make clear. For his own good health. He lifted his eyes, leaning his head back, both breaking eye contact with the warrior and getting the shining steel out of the corner of his sight. He stared at the ceiling, words coming softly, neutral and bland in tone. "As for why I am here... I thought that we might should make some things clear. About me and the fire-head. It took me a bit, but I did finally notice why you were stripping the flesh from my skull with those daggers for eyes. The girl." He glanced back down, speaking simply, quickly, honestly. "You like her. Much more than a friend." He shifted in the tub a few times, his body causing the water to ripple, his muscles rolling and flexing as he stretched himself out once more. A few quiet pops echoed out from his aching frame, and he turned, grabbing a bar of soap. He began to run it over his shoulders and neck, generating a white froth on his already pristine-looking skin, eyes returning to meet Razkar's. "You seem to see me as a threat." He phrased his words as carefully as he could, still barely looking calm on the outside, but feeling like he was walking a fine line on the inside. "Let me make myself as clear as I can. Help me out here, just once. Tell me, when you look at her, what do you feel? Inside your stomach. Inside your chest. Describe it to me. Personal business or not, I doubt even you yourself have begun to really deal with the feelings yet. Not in any direct way. You make it painfully obvious in the way you look at her. In the way you asked for help." It was obvious. Matthew's sharp words were only sharp because they were true. The Myrian obviously contained himself. He shuddered with some sort of reserved emotion when he was around the fire-head. His cheeks swelled red with the contained feelings, his eyes shifted back and forth, and his words came soft and almost stuttered. Matthew remembered it well from the day he had first met the two. "Or has something changed since when I last saw you two together?" He recalled his recent encounter with Edriena. Recovering from a wound, she had looked pretty bad. Perhaps that misadventure had led to some sort of revelation. To be quite honest, his actual reasoning was a little more simple. He doubted the vicious-looking Razkar would murder him in the middle of Syliras, while they were both soaking in a bath. Matthew's amusement, on the other hand, that was a completely different ploy.

[Razkar]

A dark and humorless mask stared back impassively at the human as he made spoke his peace. Little was revealed, and Razkar had to try damn hard to make that the case. A tightening of the jaw when he heard... was that a volley throw at him, about his abilities with women? Oh, that was pleasant. Really encouraging.

He did, at least, stow the dagger, returning it to its place under a towel. Sharp eyes still saw the faint signs of fear rising from the harlot, but Razkar saw no need to overtly play on them. His blank, staring face could do that all but itself, and besides-

"You like her. Much more than a friend."

-the male had a point.

"You seem to see me as a threat."

His breathing hitched, but only for a moment, and the ghost of a predatory smile flickered across his lips. Insightful, too, and in that way, Matthew was indeed correct. He'd not yet met the inhabitant of Syliras who could best him by steel, but the young male was old enough to know there were far, far more ways than that to bring someone low. First and foremost? A cunning and perceptive intellect.

He opened his mouth to speak but Matthew was already plowing on, white lather obscuring his tanned skin, words careful and perfectly enunciated. A sign of confidence, or fear at rousing the savage? It could have been both. Razkar listened in silence regardless.

"Let me make myself as clear as I can. Help me out here, just once. Tell me, when you look at her, what do you feel? Inside your stomach. Inside your chest. Describe it to me. Personal business or not, I doubt even you yourself have begun to really deal with the feelings yet. Not in any direct way. You make it painfully obvious in the way you look at her. In the way you asked for help."

The Myrian inhaled deeply, chest taut with muscle and decked with ink and scars rippling as he did so, nostrils flaring like a bull spying a trespasser in its field. Hearing his feelings for the Svefra questioned, perused by another... it was almost an insult. A violation. He did not even understand them, and this human assumed he could-

"Or has something changed since when I last saw you two together?"

More silence. With every passing tick Matthew assumed the Myrian would explode with violent action, gleaming teeth flashing with the silver-slashing blade... the waiting was the worst. It piled tension on tension like a bowstring being pulled to tight, so you knew it would snap and whip against you but exactly when was a mystery that pulled, taunted, kept you guessing...

"You see... a great deal... male..."

Some hidden weariness was expelled like a gust of wind from the Myrian. Damp hands pressed against his face and breath whooshed against it. The human must have been stunned: the Myrian had actually let some... sliver of weakness show. But when his hard eyes peered over the fingers steepled over his face, he had to wonder... was it real? Or just another feint?

"Not used to talking like this." Razkar said, his voicing coming with a sigh and a familiarity he didn't use for many. Congenial, almost... friendly. "Edri..." He snorted softly with a quick smile at his name for her. "Edreina. She is special to me, but you know that. You see much. Not just people, but into people. What they think. Makes you... threat."

Despite that, his lips curled and a slow bobbing of his sweaty shoulders heralded a chuckle that was more like a sleeping hyena to Matthew's ears. But the Myrian just shook his head again, hand hunting for soap and beginning to lather a thick ball of white across his hands.

"You ask what I see? I see..." He paused and his gaze became distant. But that wasn't enough and finally he just closed his eyes. "... life. Life like I never seen before. I had... woman... where I was..."

Goddess, he didn't want to talk about this. He really didn't, not like this, in a fucking bath house of all places with some barbarian whore in front of him. The nudity didn't bother him, oddly enough. The communal baths at the Taloba Barracks were just that, and if you were antsy about washing around naked males, you just ended up stinking and, eventually, beaten shykeless.

Razkar assumed it was the same mentality behind maintaining your blades properly.

But the words came. For seasons he'd kept them dammed, ignored them or just let them fade out of focus. But whenever Edri was around him, they reappeared like tendrils of guilt and...

"... but that was past." He set his jaw and that was the last he would speak on it. "Edri..."

A growl came from his lips and he attacked his own scalp like it was an enemy, rubbing lather furiously into it, eyes suddenly angry and glaring at the human. He huffed and dunked his head under the water, throwing his head back out the water, pitch-black hair arcing behind him.

"Honest, male, how can you talk like this with female? If I can not speak to you, how can I speak to her?"

[Matthew]

There was an odd pressure in his loins as the Myrian stared at him. He knew what it was, and he fought to keep it held. The harlot wasn't at all a man who was usually swayed by fear, at least, he hadn't thought he was. But the sort of fear he had always dealt with was getting scolded in a classroom, getting yelled at by his father, or meeting someone who could sway his carefully controlled emotions. But a massive barbarian with markings of how many he had killed, and shining steel? That wasn't a fear he often had to deal with. He welcomed it, knowing it was a defense mechanism, and let it flow through him. But the way it was making him want to wet himself? He was almost certain that wouldn't do the bath any good. Desperate to distract himself, he scrubbed harder and clenched his thighs. He was not going to break under that stare. Not until the man made a move. Then he would wet the tub and figure out the best course of survival. Likely screaming for help. If Matthew was suspicious or surprised when the Myrian expelled his breath of air, he didn't show it. Instead, another emotion played out across every ounce of his being. Muscle that had been pulled taunt visibly relaxed, the harlot actually slipping down the side of the bath a few inches. He had crawled up it a tad, out of intimidation. He had known he was poking somewhere he didn't really belong. Edreina had openly shared information with him, but he had connected with her in a way that he probably couldn't connect with Razkar. His eyes briefly glanced at the bucket he had brought, and then went back to Razkar's mane of hair. Hm. He listened closely to Razkar, nodding at a few of his words, offering a quick and polite smile at others. This was much more comfortable for him, and he was able to continue relaxing. He could hear the tones behind the words, and understand the meanings. It wasn't a blank wall that could hold either grudging admiration or bloodthirty intent. Conversation was his home, not silent staring that warriors did before ripping skin from bone. It was odd how opposite to each other Matthew and Razkar were, but here they were, sharing a private bath and starting to hold a normal conversation. What a world this was. A Myrian and a Harlot walk into a tavern... the joke echoed in his mind, but he didn't twitch a smile. He was too focused. The pressure was finally starting to ease down in his hips, and he felt that the soft and calm words from the Myrian were something of a lifeline. Never mind the chuckle. And the way he growled when he went for his hair. His thighs tightened briefly again, and Matthew blinked rapidly. This was silly. He needed to get control of himself. "First..." He set the bar of soap down, leaning back, arms and chest stretching a bit to try and work out the stiffness that kept settling into him. "...I asked those first few questions to try and explain something. You feel she is special, and you see life in her. I am a harlot. I don't feel those things. I don't see those things. I only allow those things if I am paid to allow them. Everything I am may advertise that concept, but otherwise...? I do not want those things. I keep them separate, and keep them a part of the whore." Normally, he wouldn't care less if anyone saw him as a threat to their ideal relationship. It had happened many times before. He had been put in quite a few odd situations because some wife had come to him and paid him coin. This time was different though. This time, even if had only been for a moment, he had saw a possessive glint in Razkar's eyes. It was different because it was Razkar. He didn't have to be told that being on the bad side of the beast was not a fun place to be. Having this conversation was simply smart, if he wanted to continue to associate with either one. Why did he, really? Edreina represented freedom. Razkar represented wildness. Two things that he did not have. Did he want those things? "Second..." He paused this time, studying Razkar quietly. He thought back to his words, remembering how the savage had told him that he was a threat. That he could see much. "...if I see much, it is simply because I am detached. I can see emotions for what they are. Logical workings of a logical body. They all make sense in some way, all have tells, all have expressions. Sometimes it is hard to tell, but you weren't exactly delicate in the way you bared your teeth at me. I was quite clear on the fact that you could chew my adams apple out if you wanted. And then, with the way you stared at her hips? Well, it was a two piece puzzle. Not too hard to put together." His words weren't mocking, or making a poke at intelligence, or talking down. They were just words. Simple and quick, explaining how he had seen what he had seen. "Perhaps that is why I can talk the way I do to her. I don't have to worry about want, or like, or lust. I don't have to worry about how she will feel back. I simply am who I am, and people can accept that or not. If they pay, I can become who they want me to be. It is all very... easy." His brow furrowed, the harlot pausing to think. He sat there, still as a statue, blue eyes studying the Myrian in front of him. While the warrior was a flurry of motions and noises, Matthew was cold and calculating, mind blurring through how he could actually say any of this. "You... have something to lose. As you say, you have seen life. Who wants to lose their life? Do you associate everything with battle, warrior?" The second comment came out of left field, but it would serve a purpose. "Do you see this talk with me as a fight? Do you see this relationship with Edreina as a weakness?" They were close enough for him to work his magic, and he did without even thinking about it. It was a defensive reaction, the harlot slowly letting calming suggestions whisper through his hypnotic aura. They were barely there, only skirting the farthest edge of the mind. He wasn't even fully aware he was doing it, though some distant part of him was. He just reflexively let the ideas echo out, his own little way of trying to calm an aggressor down. He wasn't even sure if Razkar was an aggressor. He just seemed to naturally emit that role.

[Razkar]

The words poured out of him and instead of scorn or contempt (or, just as bad, indifference), Razkar got words back. But here his had been strained, confused, stumbled upon and thrown haphazardly as his knowledge of Common seemed to fit, Mahhtew's were as concentrated and purposeful as a gaming piece slid or jumped across the board. The effect was... almost hypnotic.

And lasted up until the harlot said he did not care for love or affection.

"Bullshit." The Myrian all but grunted, doubting half-smile pulling up one corner of his mouth. "You not want to be island. No male wants to be island. You have mind, yes, and maybe you think more with brain than heart... but..."

One hand came out the water, trailing droplets with a finger pointed upward.

"... you still have heart. Be strange thing to see what is left if you no able to use brain more, and have to rely on what gods breathed in you soul..."

The Myrian could practically taste the doubting humor rising off the human like that steam on his shoulder, but he simply shrugged his own and settled back, soap vanishing under the water along with his hands... and arms suddenly moving with purpose. Matthew raised an eyebrow and Razkar rolled his eyes.

"Oh, not flatter you own, human. Think I come to bath just to wash my petching hair?"

Razkar listened as he... "worked", and shook his head. It seemed to... cold, to live in such a way. Never really being yourself aside from that small corner of your mind beyond the mask you wore for your... what were they, anyway? Lovers? No, that word had no place in Matthew's line of work. Clients? Perhaps. Customers? Even more likely. His lips curled when he and Edri were mentioned again, fire and ice at the humans boldness now quenched and melted. He shrugged.

"Not have much cause to hide feeling for female. People think "savage", remember? Not think I can have feeling."

Aside from one...

Then the conversation... shifted. The human became intense, stare pinning Razkar and some part of him said why don't you move? I will. He will. Won't he? Then do it. I will! And all the while as this mad conversation volleyed back and forth, the Myrian found his lips moving, murmuring through a feeling like a great weight being lifted from his form.

"Do you see this relationship with Edreina as a weakness?"

"What you love... makes you... weaker..." He blinked and the blanket of warm ease prickled at him, little by little, like the first scouts ahead of a horde of ants. "Can be... used against you and... and is... betrayal-"

Betrayal.

Of Aya.

His people.

His-

-Goddess.

Why are you speaking thus to a barbarian, boy? Whence spills forth this confession? And why...?

Razkar's eyes snapped closed and opened in a sharp blink and the blanket vanished, naked confusion in them. Wide, almost hesitant, he looked up into the frowning gaze of the human and snorted, rubbing his head.

"Strange... must be air in here..."

[Matthew]

Instead of defiance or anger, Matthew actually met Razkar's first observation with a pause, and then a very slow nod. "No, you are... right. I do still have a heart. It is wrong to say that I don't feel, for that is not true. I simply control it and mute it when I do feel it. It... scares me. I do want to be an island. Perhaps I simply want to control too much? I want to be alone on the island, and be able to understand and control everything that moves around me. Especially my own body and emotions. Does it not scare you, to be at the whim of your own heart?" Matthew's eyes grew in intensity, but for some reason, he was comfortable taking about this to the barbarian. Little did he know his own magic was having the exact same effect on him that it was Razkar. He was calming himself down somehow, and slowly opening up to the Myrian in front of him. "Does it not terrify you?" There was a moment of pleading in his voice, like a little boy asking for someone just to understand. It was sudden and random, then it was gone, as if Matthew had realized that he had opened his carefully guarded mind up just a little too much. He had leaned forward as his eyes darkened, and now he leaned back, brow furrowing a bit as he pondered what had came over him. The air... yes, that was probably it. Razkar slowly stated his understanding of love, and Matthew held his tongue, for now. Pieces had clicked together in his head, and he would have to be careful in how he showed those pieces to the man in front of him. When he did show them, he wasn't sure if Razkar would react with anger, silence, sadness, or simply rip his intestines from his body and strangle him with them. Instead, he focused on the other thing they had managed to add to the conversation. The bath. The corner of his lips unwillingly lifted as the Myrian snarled at him and continued to wash himself, and unwittingly dropped probably the first witty retort he had ever dared give the Myrian. "Ah, so no hair down there?" Almost instantly after saying it, Matthew's mouth clamped shut, his eyes widening just a tad bit. There was something in the air. Teasing the thing in front of him was one of his least favorite things to do. Coughing a bit, he tried to get himself back on track, speaking what had actually been on his mind. "No, it is just... Your hair is long. I was thinking that it might help you, since you are a warrior and all, to let me- Edreina braid it. If you haven't ever done it before. Just an idea." Matthew shrugged, the topic probably odd to Razkar, but one that set Matthew back at ease. Taking a deep breath, he roamed his own soap under the water, focusing on his legs and stomach first. He was actually extremely particular about washing himself down there. He shuddered to think what he stuck himself in sometimes. Biting his lip, he glanced down to the water, studying it briefly. Why was he sticking his neck out on the line? Being bold for a simple sense of friendship was silly. It was extremely silly. It wasn't logical, to verbally spar with the man in front of him. Since when had he taken investment in their personal business? Let them figure it out. "Used against you, hm?" His voice echoed out, firm and cold, and his eyes slowly slid up. Yahal, here it went. "Dancing the line is what makes you weaker. It sounds like you neither accept this weakness and learn to integrate it, to cover for it, to fix it... nor do you cut it away from you. Instead, you let it sit there, let it remain an opening while you try to figure out what to do with it. And then, someone goes and gets stabbed. Sounds like someone struck for the weakness, Raz-kar." And there it was. He had seen the blow, knew Razkar had somehow caused it, and knew there was quite a lot to the story. Quite a bit he didn't know. Did Razkar even knew how much he knew? Whatever the case, if they were to speak in terms of weaknesses and betrayals, then he might as well try and be like the Myrian. Savage.

[Razkar]

He had shrugged and softened his gaze when the human's tone dropped to a whisper, like a child asking for protection from the darkness. He'd rolled his eyes and made an anatomically-incorrect hand gesture when the harlot shot a crack back about his crotch hair... then laughed, actually laughed, when Matthew stumbled all over himself.

He grinned when Edreina's name quickly replaced his own, eyes widening in surprise at the barrage of confused verbage from the flustered human.

"Used against you, hm?"

And then Razkar's smile froze, gleaming white slowly disappearing as he recognized that hard, steady tone... and barely believing it came from the perfumed harlot opposite him. Ever surprising, was-

Then Matthew spoke again. The words were... ruthless. Brave, too, spoken without restraint or obsequiousness, truth battering through fear and social convention to launch against Razkar. But the time Matthew had finished, Razkar's smile was gone.

He snorted, but did not smile. He tossed the worn bar of soap away, not even glancing as it smacked into a steam-soaked wall. The Myrian's lips moved, but it was more of a sneer, and he enjoyed the confusion on Matthew's face as he spoke in his own, incomprehensible (to him) tongue.

"One for Rahi, if he had been born under the light of Myri. Same mind as her. Same cobwebs in her head and ice in her eyes..."

Usually he would never have the eggs to utter the name of Rahi of the Tiger Eyed in anything but awed respect... in Falyndar. But he wasn't in Falyndar, and when he looked at the male with fresh eyes, he saw her patient, cold-blooded intelligence there. One who was privately sneered at by many for her "spying", she called it, her endless intrigues that were seen as un-Myrian, not worthy of a warrior.

But Razkar always suspected... never knew, just suspected... that such a careful female could be as quietly lethal as any screaming beserker. Nothing came to pass without her knowing. All lies and prevarications were unraveled under her unblinking eyes and her logic.

Strange. To find one like her, both as a male, and as a barbarian...

"Fuck do you know about it?"

... not that it'll help him much.

The words came out as a snarl as low and cold as Matthew's own words, the dark mirror of the harlot's own cold logic displayed in physical aggression. The Myrian lowered his gaze, black eyes flashing from a heavy brow, and was it the human's imagination, or did that eye carved onto his forehead seem to stare balefully at his head as well?

"Were you there? Did you see? Did you know? No. You not, to any. Just... hear. Use mind and think all is clear. Is not."

He leaned forward, body now radiated restrained menace, and fully aware of it. Observing him, making suggestions, that was one thing. But to critique something that had torn at his own breast... that Razkar would not tolerate without response in kind.

He told himself it was not just because Edri was mentioned. He nearly believed it.

"You are not warrior. You not even brawler. When was last time you hit, hmm? When female's mate found you with cock in her?" A contemptuous snort and some strange, foreign part of Razkar winced. A budding friendship now threatened. Sad. But the barbarian bought it on himself. "I know what battle is. On field and in close place. I know that you win, most times, because you do what must be done."

He stressed the words as if giving a lesson, tapping the spot on his own upper-left torso where he knew Edri's fresh, ugly scar was.

"Know what is worse than have enemy use what you care for as weapon to you? Hmm? Having to hurt what you... care for." Even in his anger, his Myrian indignation, he could not speak that little word. Not yet. "Seeing that only option, only way for victory, for life for you and her, is to make pain in her. That is not weak, Math-hew."

Anothr stress, this time with a mocking tone, and Razkar settled back with his arms spread as if his point was made.

"That is what must be done... and that has nothing to do with girl. Was just... act. And react."

Another sullen silence that Razkar felt stiffen in the air between them. He didn't feel that sense of accomplishment and satisfaction he usually did from an argument well-made and debate well-won. Some worm of uncertainty knew the human... at least had a point. He'd flip-flopped with Edri, flirted with the idea of her and left her open to his enemies by simply being around her. But when the time came, what had he done?

Put his blade clean through her body to kill the man holding her hostage. And why?

Because it had to be done. Because it saved her life.

Razkar sighed, and finally stood. Six feet of taut, tanned, scarred and tattooed Myrian musculature was revealed to the silent, watchful human, water rippling and then splashing as mass was displaced. Razkar's eyes didn't waver, nor his cheeks flush at the sight of him. Instead, he just spread his arms.

"Body has seen war. Much war. Marked by it. Honored by it. Know what it make you do to survive it." His arms fell... and he sighed. "But... weakness, like we talk about? Not easy to fight. To easy to win. In heart. In soul. You know that, if ever bother to use them."

He reached for a towel.

[Matthew]

Matthew's face was a pleasant (at least maybe to Razkar) mixture of nervousness and utter confusion. He looked completely baffled when Razkar sneered out something in a very rough tongue, wondering briefly if he should apply his insulted face or angry face. That concern was soon gone though, and the only concern left was the angry thing in front of him. What had he expected, really? To poke the savage where he assumed it would hurt and then share a friendly drink with him later? Matthew didn't even drink! All he could do was flatten himself back against the bathtub wall, his poker face broken to reveal nervousness and that bit of fear. Fear that he was about to get his head twisted off. His eyes never moved from the savage, and he now somehow noticed the emptiness of the black orbs staring at him. He could see his reflection in Razkar's gaze. His calming magics shrank back and instantly stopped, even Matthew's instincts commiting themselves to protecting his wellbeing. He was now simply ready to dart out of the bath, even if he wasn't exactly trained to 'dart'. Hopefully he would be able to get out without slipping and landing back into the lions den. It was almost cute how the harlot dealt with the confrontation. He treated the first half of the aggressive questions like he was supposed to answer them, opening his mouth with a "Well I-" or a "Because you-" before getting cut off. Somewhere down the line he realized that he didn't need to interrupt, so just shrunk a little bit more and dealt with it. The mocking pronounciation of his name actually put a look of mixed confusion and hurt on Matthew's face. Was he pronouncing the barbarian's name wrong the entire time? The last comment really stung, oddly enough. Matthew was actually a bit put off by the pang in his stomach. He distracted himself, handling the small moment of hurt like he did every other small moment. He just ignored it and shoved it down, reminding himself that it was a silly function of an equally silly mind. The savage's body was impressive. Matthew couldn't help but glance over it, eyes narrowing for a brief moment as he noticed the scars and the drawings, wondering what each of them meant. How each of them had came to be. He didn't speak for a bit, even when Razkar reached for the towel, the harlot obviously trying to control something. Various emotions flickered across his face, and the method in which he dealt with each was almost surreal. There would be a moment of confusion, then apathy. Hurt would crinkle his nose, and then apathy would once again clear it. It was a visible war. One that he often hid quite well. When he did finally speak, his voice was noticeably softer. He was obviously avoiding the wrath of the Myrian again, not having liked the words or the looks. It wasn't anything that would damage his view of the man. He knew they were normal reactions to what he said, and he had expected them. He supposed he just hadn't expected to be scared. Nervous. Offended. Angered, a little. He wasn't sure, really. "You are right, I wasn't there. I am... uhm, sorry. If I... offended. I know I am... bold?" He paused, meekly glancing up, trying to find his resolve and latch onto it. He was still slightly confused as to why he was doing this. Razkar was everything he wasn't. They were nothing alike. They never would have associated if not for that one moment back at the Herald. That one meeting had made Matthew care enough to waltz into a private bath? Or was it care for Edreina? He didn't have a clue. "She was, though. I doubt she would have if she didn't feel the way she does." He paused to let that settle in, unwittingly putting word to something Razkar had already thought of. "You are always with her; at least whenever I am there. She either glances off in the distance and smiles, or actually talks about you. And whatever happened that day, even after getting hurt, you were still with her when I came to visit her. Would she have been hurt if you had left her a long time ago?" He tilted his head, voice noticeably softer. Still firm, but not as sharp. He still found it odd that Razkar and Edreina both thought he was so observant. They were just painfully easy to read when it came to each other. "I just find it odd that you both latch onto each other with this certain level of unspoken commitment, but can't do each other the simple respect of actually making it real. Firm. Are you just going to walk this line forever? Or just leave one day? Is it fair to lead her along, lead her into harms way, where she will happily follow in the hope that something may happen? Though, to be fair, she is probably doing it to you too. Knowing her, she probably made you jump into that... Suvan." It was said with a certain level of horror. Almost a joke, if Matthew wasn't actually terrified of all the sea monsters he assumed lurked in it. And she had him swim in it.