Return from the Night

[Forsaken]

One of the cat's ears would swivel to track every sound Thrasymachus made, easily catching the sound of unsnapping buttons. The gentle rise and fall of her ribcage beneath her fur as she breathed would pause, the large green eyes slowly opening. She had cause to fear similar sounds under such circumstances, but there was enough that was subtly, but critically, different about this situation to ease the suffocating fear that had initially seized her. Her new master's tactics were already notably different from those of her former master, and the casual feel to the sounds told her that Thrasymachus was just getting ready for bed, not preparing himself for her torment. Breathing again she stood, rolling fluidly to stand on silent paws, and prowled toward the arm of the chair that was closes to the door, keeping low to the seat cushion. Then she rose up on her hind legs and placed her paws on the arm rest, craning her neck slightly as she peered around the back of the chair.

Her ears immediately swiveled backwards, even her cat's eyes widening slightly, as she caught her new master half-dressed. Yet she wasn't afraid, and she didn't feel guilty just yet. She was simply fascinated. She'd never seen a man undress in a way that wasn't either done in a hurried rush or as an implied threat, and so she didn't turn away even though a small part of her mind still remembered that doing so was the proper thing to do.

Instead, she chose to retreat just far enough that only one large green eye and one slanted ear was visible, poised to duck back into the cover of the chair should her new master look her way.

In the meantime, she just watched, her heart beating a bit too quickly and her mind feeling dim in it's fascination. She gave a slight, silent sigh. He was so beautiful, and he seemed so gentle while so lost in thought that his beauty reached her in a way that the physical appearance of the other Guardians never had. Her thoughts weren't erotic. It was too simple and quiet a moment for that, and she appreciated such simplicity too much to ever think of turning this glimpse into something else. She'd seen plenty of sadistic eroticism, but far too little of humanity in her captors. Humanity with it's endearing vulnerabilities. So she watched him, now, and safely tucked this small glimpse of a Guardian's other side into a corner of her memory that was as safe as any. She thought she may need it in the future. It would make dealing with him easier.

Of course, he was still very much a Guardian. His power could not be denied, not when he used it as casually and thoughtlessly as she drew breath. But these aspects were the ones she had grown used to, and so they didn't make as great an impression on her. He was radiant, but...there was something there that was both less and more than that.

Yet she immediately forgot about these reflections when her new master looked her way. She quickly ducked out of sight when she saw his head begin to turn toward her. She had little time, but she had been looking for just that glance, and so she was in the cover of the chair in a flash. But her heart was pounding. She hoped he hadn't seen her.

She decided to curl into the back of the chair once more and close her eyes, feigning sleep, as she waited for him to slide under the blankets. If he did so, he hadn't noticed her. If he didn't...

Her ears slanted back against her head with the thought, but she didn't pursue it.

[Seven]

((*GLOMPS!* You weren't around when I was reading this, but it was so absolutely wonderfully adorable and amazing! I love you so much and Asila is so darling!))


Thrasymachus was almost sure he saw the flash of white and green that was foreign to his room watching him from behind the armchair. Still, even then he was not thinking of her, but rather of himself, and his most despicable human qualities such as the tendency towards absent-mindedness and weariness. Perhaps it was just that he so strongly idolized Guardians, but he couldn't help but think that if he were a full Guardian, he would be bereft of such ailments.

But when confronted with his own failings, such as these, no matter how small, Thrasymachus was notorious for beating himself up. A true perfectionist, the mere memory of an incident in which he deemed that he was acting foolish and stupid would have him silently going for a while. Once again, unlike Somriad, who seemed to never regret anything that he did. But he failed to realize that Somriad wouldn't have given importance to something as trivial as that, thus he wouldn't have regretted. But then again, if Thrasymachus was a perfectionist and Somriad wasn't, it was only because Somriad was already perfect (at least, in Thrasymachus' mind), and therefore he would never have such little qualms.

The best Thrasymachus could do, on the other hand, was almost childish in comparison. Now hidden in the nook of his bed, behind sheer curtains of the canopy, he close his eyes, systematically trying to forget his failings. Forget his human flaws, convince himself that those time he acted with human qualities were only a part of his act, and therefore, we of no consequence in the long run. But opening his eyes, his Guardian eyes, his thoughts were still on humans. Or rather, a particular human. He had been plagued by this thought all week, and as much as he fought that frivolous need, he realized he wouldn't get her off his mind unless he went to see her tomorrow.

The slight rustle of sheets could be heard. Slipping beneath their cottony fabric, he let them envelop him, slip away into darkness, and with that temporary bliss, forget.

[Forsaken]

((...hooray for being cute?

Just being a spaz. Thanks for the compliments! *glomps Seven* ...but T is way more awesome. Just for the record.))

The cat would relax when she heard her new master slip under the blankets, releasing the breath she had been holding as she strained her ears for every sound relating to him. Of course, she didn't have to hold her breath to hear him, but it was just something that people tended to do when they were anxiously waiting for something that would happen soon.

Now convinced that she would be left in peace for the rest of the night, she let her thoughts drift away, her relief quickly pulling her into the tranquil depths of unconsciousness.

[Seven]

((Here's a super quickie! ))

It would be impossible to tell when morning had come, since the windowless room would always be of the same brightness. The cold flame flickering brings the only same, perpetual soft light...and nothing more. But the faintest rustle of noise would cause Asila to stir. Again, just beyond the back of the armchair, Thrasymachus was getting dressed. Though this time, he was already mostly finished, finishing off by pulling on a pair of black leather gloves for the cold air that would be awaiting him the moment he stepped outside into the world.

[Forsaken]

((*shrugs*))

The cat does stir, stretching languidly as she listens to her new master finish dressing. Once she is sure he is dressed, she stands and jumps down from the chair, shifting back into her humanoid form and trying not to yawn. She always felt so tired, as if her mind just didn't want to wake up anymore.

She looked in Thrasymachus' direction, though not directly at him, and waited silently for him to leave. Wherever he went, she would follow, until she was told otherwise. She had grown used to remaining silent because her opinion did not matter. Unless it served to give her master a reason to make her suffer.

[Seven]

Thrasymachus silently assess her. After a long pause of him just staring, one hand thoughtfully at his chin, he turns around, back to his closet. He causally throws her a hat, then walks over with, carrying an extra coat in his arms. "Here," he says, expecting her to take and dress herself with them. "So the humans of the city will not be suspicious of your appearance." Then, turning his back to her, he gently collects a pair of sun glasses from off his desk, putting them on lightly.

Looking at him now, Asila would see that he is not in his normal, pseudo-Guardian attire, no long blue coat or any small emblem to signify his abidance to the Guardians. He was dressed in normal human fashion, and with the sunglasses, though such an item hardly had any secular purpose in this lightless world, he completed the look, hiding his bejeweled eyes.

[Forsaken]

Her new master's assessing stare actually left the young Forsaken feeling self-conscious. The long-sleeved 'shirt', which was really nothing more than a pair of sleeves held in place by a strip of black fabric that spanned her narrow shoulders, and two tails of fabric that tied across her chest and covered only her breasts, suddenly seemed terribly revealing. Had she no pride?

Once, she reminded herself. And didn't she remember how that had ended? She had decided to dress revealingly because she had eventually learned that her old master wasn't nearly as interested in taking something that was openly offered him as he was in attaining that which was held out of his reach.

Not that this reminder of the reasoning behind her style of dress made her feel any less like an immature child who hadn't the faintest sense of dignity when her new master spent such a long moment appraising her. She was nothing if not insecure.

By the time Thrasymachus finished his appraisal, Asila had nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other, causing the chains on her baggy black pants to clink quietly. Her eyes had remained focused on a patch of wall of to the left of his shoulder. Yet when he tossed her the hat, she effortlessly caught it, placing it upon her head and pulling it down over her ears. The brim lay low enough over her forehead that it should shade her eyes adequately, as long as she watched where she let her gaze rest.

She takes the coat as well when he offers it to her. Slipping into the garment, she feels illogically grateful for the cover. Frowning slightly, she suppresses the sentiment. When her new master turned to face her once more, her expression was as vaguely neutral as she tried to keep it.

...but it didn't stay that way.

Looking up at her master beneath the wide brim of her borrowed hat, she tactfully managed to blurt "You look so different. Like a human." Her tone was innocent enough, wavering with misuse and soft with wonder. But she realized, too late to take the words back, that they were bound to be taken as an insult. She winced, tearing her gaze away from him and directing it toward the ground so that the brim of her hat shadowed her face and hid his expression from her.

[Seven]

Had it been any other day with any other person, he might have jabbed the poor creature that unwittingly dare offend him in such a fashion. But today, he graced her only with a a smile of fond amusement. "Well, that is what I am hoping for." He couldn't help an almost smug look from deep inside him surface. After all, he felt this was indication his plan was working. "And I would hope that I do look at least relatively human," he begins to jest, "considering that is part of who I---" he decided to cut himself off to make himself appear shaky on this field, unsure of himself. Human even in speech. It didn't matter that he cut himself off when he was sure that it would be easy enough to tell what the last word of the sentence would be. Am. Such a word he had disdained he now felt free to use to his advantage.

After all, is it not karmic retribution? For so long, discriminated by this, was it not only fair that he should now have the chance to give him an advantage?

His hand gently rests back down on the desk from which he had picked up the sunglasses. His tone, ever expressionless, still managed to reflect something melancholic. "Yes, human. I suppose that can make me quite useful, at times." Even so, those words he wished to use to his advantage still held bite for him. The truth is still true, after all. And pain still hurts.

His steely tone resumes. "Come. I do not think that any of the city-folk will recognize us now." As he walked past her, there is a small glint in his eye. "You look rather human yourself, after all," he adds softly.

[Forsaken]

The Forsaken slowly brought her gaze back to her new master, confused yet again by the mild reactions that met such severe transgressions. She knew he couldn't be so kind, that there must be something she was missing. But wasn't it also possible that she had just learned to be paranoid? Wasn't it possible that she'd found herself in the hands of a kind master? Wasn't it?

It really didn't seem all that likely....

But what reason other than kindness could be behind his friendly attitude toward her?

There must be one. There must be. Guardians weren't nice. Ever.

But...

And so the confused sentiments would flicker doubtfully through her mind as she closely observed him through her peripheral vision. She noticed, of course, the way he stalled before first acknowledging himself as human. Her breath caught strangely in her throat as she listened. She swallowed hard, wondering now if she was somehow ill. Not only did nothing make sense, but now she felt weird. What was wrong with her?

She hazarded a more direct glance at his expression when he continued in that strangely sad tone. But of course, his face betrayed nothing. She quickly looked back to that vague point just to his right and near the floor, as puzzled as before. Was it some kind of crime to make answers easy to find? And did it even matter, when it was the solutions that mattered, but could never be found?

Perhaps it was because her confusion made it difficult to remember who she was dealing with, but when her new master told her she looked human, as well, she smiled and said "Thank you," in a tone that was no less happy just because it was spoken softly. Then she followed him from the room, gazing at the ground to shade her eyes. And her expression.

((Vagueness. To the tenth degree))