“My dear Sir Elssmith …”
Professor Illui was tall and fashionable. With fair hair tightly pulled back against his head and tied in a topknot he took a purposeful step forwards, extending a single hand.
“Professor Illui,” came the unwavering answer, and pale fingers reached out to grasp his.
The two men then shook hands, elf to secret god, small smiles then came to both faces. In that moment there were no words, only an exchange of agreeable glances between them. Eventually, however, the hands fell apart, and Illui’s eyes drifted over to where Stare stood, still clutching onto the sides of her cloak at the edge of the round room and back near the door. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but she stared back at the professor with a mighty will.
“And this …” the fair elf indicated to her.
“Ah,” Vitruvion's smile grew into a wondrous beam. “This, is … my … mine. Stare.”
“Yours?” Illui’s brows rose, as his eyes glided over her form.
How much does he know about you? she asked, as she was modestly scrutinised.
He has always considered the fact I am something more than I claim, but no questions were ever asked.
The Hollow? The other less legal businesses?
A small sigh was uttered by him, but it was internal and mental. He knows about the legal side, we have kept in contact. Others … he suspects. I am sure. But I know for certain of his own illegal pursuits and so ...
So he knows you, and what you are like. Stare grunted, letting out large, long breath before she grew stronger with determination. Rolling back her shoulders, yet still holding to her cloak, she met, and locked, eyes with the professor.
“His steward, technically,” she finally answered him, in a low, firm voice.
“Ah, a technicality!” Illui clearly was no fool. By the exclamation and from the decades of history that he definitely had with Vitruvion, Stare could tell that the professor comprehended something of the possessive nature of the god.
From behind the professor Vitruvion smiled genuinely, before taking a step closer. He was a pale glory against the dark backdrop of the room - which was an ordinary office draped with deep blue hangings. Somewhere between the shades was Stare's tunic and cloak, grey and dull. Nothing like the passion and life that was burning in her eyes. Or of the eyes of the two men.
“Stare is remarkable,” Vitruvion said honestly. “For reasons we have just begun to understand. But something happened last night that …”
Illui glanced around to look at the aristocrat, head tilting slightly to the left, then back at Stare. By the time he was back to looking at her there was a single brow raised, and an inquisitive smile. The kenku’s heart thumped, as Vitruvion nodded at her.
“Stare, my dear. The door is locked,” her god said softly, warmly. “And we've already discussed Illui. If you want an explanation as much as I do then …”
Her jaw tightened, and she peered past both the men at the very firmly closed door. It shut out both the spiralled staircase and the world beyond, leaving just this dark, private office and her company. Not even a window was available for anyone to peer through, for the place was brilliantly lit by a silver chandelier, complete with magical everlasting flames.
“These grew this morning,” she whispered, dropping her eyes then, and finally releasing the sides of her cloak. “Vitruvion said you may be able to explain …”
And she heard a gasp as she felt a firm but careful hand reach up to unclasp her cloak. As the fabric was pulled away Illui’s eyes widened dramatically and Stare was suddenly again aware of the weight of her wings as the cloak brushed against them. But they moved very little, for they were neatly and painstakingly folded against her back and kept there with a series of makeshift leather ties. It was how she had been able to bare coming here, how she had finally given in and agreed to Vitruvion's suggestion. He himself had cautiously collapsed them into place, then applied the harness. It was slipped through rudimentary holes in her tunic that she had cut herself, then united to the strength of her body. For she found it exhaustive to support the weight of the wings, and with Vitruvion's refusal to attempt to reverse the transformation she had needed to carry them for the day. From the mansion, through the portal and to here.
“In-cred-ible,” Illui murmured, a hand extending out, his eyes filled with wonder. “You say they … grew this morning?”
Stare instinctively flinched back away from his hand incredibly uncertain about this, and the feeling gaining with each moment. She breathed hard and flicked a hand down to the hilt of her dagger, fearing as to what someone touching them might do.
Illui paused, then respectively retreated his hand before turning his eyes to Vitruvion. They were on either side of her and she was nearly against the wall. The god could feel the dislike of being trapped and the anxiety burning through her system. It was as if her nerves were on fire, throbbing in her toes, fingers, joints and up her spine - even in her wings. Her muscles thrummed with readiness: readiness to escape wherever was needed, should the requirement be.
“Stare,” Vitruvion said in a low, subjective voice. “Illui needs to look at them, if he to help at all.”
Stare's hand tightened on the hilt of her dagger as he spoke. He frowned a little before he moved his own hand and placed it over hers there. Going stiff she glared at him while his grip got tighter. And tighter. Illui saw the contestation between them, his brows high and his eyes wide as master and kenku, god and subject, noble and servant, fought over wills. Vitruvion's pale knuckles, if they could get whiter, did so. Stare's heart rate accelerated tremendously as she tried to fight against him, to draw her dagger and defend herself, or to do something to rage against his desire - but he was a god. His hold was sure. His domination over her had already been decided. Though silence was the only words between them there was a clear line of communication as their gazes ferociously fought. Slowly, Vitruvion's eyes narrowed, as he left his friend in entire ignorance and at a loss, and concentrated on her.
But things being what they were, he managed to wrench her hand from the hilt of her dagger. Stepping towards her he hissed cynically in her ear. “Stop fucking about Stare. I know you don't trust him, and neither do I, much, but this is it, girl. These things are yours.”
As he stepped back, he pulled the dagger from her belt. Then, placing a hand on her shoulder he pulled her around so her back was to him. As he began to work on the halter, Stare tightened her jaw and lifted her eyes up to Illui.
“Don't touch them. If you want to see more detail he can do it,” she growled, and shoved a clawed thumb at Vitruvion.
Illui raised his hands in innocence, clearly having been affected in some way by the unspoken disagreement between the other two. “Of course, of course,” he said quite openly and happily.
Rapidly Vitruvion stripped her wings of their restraints, using both hand and dagger. Stare felt the limbs become loose and heavy as her back was forced to support them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the black, feathered things drape to either side. Keeping her arms hanging by her sides she let herself be subject to her god's will, as he fully unfurled her wings. Without the habit of having them normally they drooped down, and a line of discomfort crossed her eyes.
When it was fully done Vitruvion curled a hand around the end of her left wing. He made no action to return her dagger, but rather it seemed to disappear as he pulled the thing right up into the air, causing immense uneasiness in her.
“Do you mind?” she snapped.
“Stare,” he growled back. Just her name, but it was a warning.
