Private Tales Fireworks and a White Rabbit

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
His lean form shivered under the rush of the water. Jonathan had mentioned that some speakers had a uniquely intimate relationship with the world around them, but he'd taken it lightly, as a jest. The was this bath was being manipulated did indeed feel like the touch of a lover, exploring every inch of him. If it wasn't so uncanny, it might even be pleasurable. He shifts about in the water, his hunger for answers greater than his desire to escape the situation.

Ten years... So it had been shortly before his father's death. He would already have been alive at that point. His back arches a bit as the water travels up his back, pale skin forming small bumps as he attempts to keep his reaction to the caresses to a minimum. It was surprisingly difficult, without the bedmate he'd become used to. Hob had spoiled him.

"Yes." He finally breathed. "I'm here for the auction with my new partner. I'm still acclimating. Not as strong as I was yet..."

Jonathan Burr
 
Then let me help you. Pedeo whispered to him. No inch of his body was spared ministrations by the water. Even above the surface, tiny air tendrils stroked over his cheek. Temperature focused in sensitive areas. As I’ve told you, the love of a city is worth so much more than opening locked doors and secrets. I can satisfy you so much better than a being made of flesh and blood. Flesh and blood fades. Iron is forever. The good collar dropped from his neck, and air whispered over the sweaty skin.

A thick iron collar padded in leather enclosed around Varys’ neck from the back, and intense heat threatened to burn the nape of his neck. I never want you to leave me, Varys. I want you to sink into me, feel me. Touch me with the magic I’ve missed. The collar was cooling quickly, welded around his throat. Give in to me...

_______________

“So he’s not here.” Jon frowned at the tiny, shriveled pet seated up on a desk. The desk was held aloft several dozen feet in the air by a mountain of books. It’s denizen sighed and looked down thick glasses at Jonathan.

“Master Burr, I...am fairly certain I’d remember a young man like that.” Amphetrion wheezed, and patted the edge of the desk. “I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

“Yeah, if he didn’t decide to invade the Centre Wheel. Thanks, Librarian. If he shows up direct him back to the pet house.” Jon sighed and left the library, running his fingers through his hair. Where the hell was that boy if not started on his studies?

Varys
 
The further the elf sunk into the waters, the stronger he felt exactly what the voice spoke of. He could feel every inch of Pedeo in his pores, every footstep, every door opening and closing, every shifting of it's rings. It wasn't the typical kind of pleasure one would receive from a lover; it was far more mental than physical. Even so, he found himself wanting nothing more than to sink into it's depths, to never leave this state of heightened sensitivity.

No, he couldn't afford to let himself be seduced. There was so much he hadn't accomplished yet, and he didn't have the time to wait around and be taken in my the spirit of a city with emotions far too complicated to justify. He had to leave, and he had to get out of the Inner Wheel. The voice hadn't affected him too strongly in the slums, which meant that somehow, it needed Varys close to the center in order to interact with him this powerfully. If he could just get out...

He let that thought echo in his head, willing it to repeat louder and louder as he began to tighten the muscles in his arms. He begged them to move, to pull him out of the water. 'Get out' he repeated to himself again. 'Get out of here before it's too late!' He screamed to himself louder, his arms finding the edge of the bath and his fingers gripping the tile as tight as they could manage, pulling his body up and out of the water slowly.

He lay sputtering on the tile now, beside the bath he'd nearly been willing to drown himself in for a city that offered him naught but pleasure. Gods, no words were being spoken, but he could feel the seething anger coming from Pedeo, at the mere notion that Varys would spur it's advances. A sharp heat burned at his nape, and he raised a hand up to his neck to feel for the source...

The collar he found there was not the one he'd entered with. It was Iron, with leather padding.

"Oh for fuck's..." He spat out in realization. "I don't have time for this!" His shock at the situation was quickly turning to rage. Every time he thought he had a lead, every time somebody offered him information that he so desperately craved, they instead sought to make a fool out of him. First Volta, then Niv, and now the entire city of Pedeo. He hadn't let Niv get away with crossing him, and the hot-blooded elf was secretly swearing to himself that he would make this city pay even now. "Release me now! You will regret this, I promise you!"

Jonathan Burr
 
The city felt him fighting. Turning away, pulling away, and a sort of miffed rage came through the connection. Her San’Seya wouldn’t panic so! He would sift through the sands of eternity with her, connect to the world and feel all of it. They trusted each other. So what had changed? What about this new body had changed her San’Seya? Confusion tinged the anger as she withdrew, and was silent once more.

Varys managed to yank himself out of the bath, and immediately began shouting when he realized the training collar was on. The baths were quickly emptying, the denizens avoiding looking at Varys as they exited. One pet approached Varys, dark skinned and slightly older. He settled on the tile and eyed the elf. “No sense fighting it, son, or Persian will have you gelded. Settle down, and when you’re ready I’ll take you to the pet house.” The man said in a calm, even baritone. It was comforting, practiced. This man had done this many times before. “Breathe. You can’t get that collar off, no matter if you’re a Speaker or not. That iron’s a part of the city.”

The man folded his arms. “My name’s Kennedi. You must be Varys.”

Varys
 
Something in the back of his mind wasn't set right. He wasn't sure if it was the frustration that had dislodged it, or this dark skinned pet telling him to give up and accept a fate as a pet. His vision, no, his very way of thinking was distorting. He thought things he shouldn't, felt rage boiling in his skin that wasn't his own. Didn't they have any idea who he was? He was Varys San'Seya! He created life from nothing but bone and raw materials that rose from the ground at his very command! Did this city think that he owed it his life for any reason?

He shook his head, trying to see clearly. Varys and San'Seya, he was allowing his father and himself to be mixed and intermingled in his thoughts. It wasn't the first time it had happened; Oban had caused the same effect, awakening that information stored in the back of his mind

"Hold your tongue!" He growled at the pet attempting to make this process as painless as possible. "Your sentiment for me is misguided, Pedeo! You gave me what I wanted, and that was the end of our association!" His head pounded, his heartbeat rapidly pulsing in his ears. It was as though there had been a dam in the elf's mind, holding back a flood of memory and knowledge. The intense experience in the bath had broken the seal, and now... No, he would deal with the information running through his head later

He doubted he had much time before a more forceful retrieval was attempted. Staggering to his feet, He looked down at himself with a vacant expression settling onto his lips. This situation couldn't have gotten much worse if he'd tried. To the best of his abilities he hurried about collecting his belongings, dressing himself when he could see clear enough through the pulsing of his head. They would chase him, but they would have to kill him if they wanted to take him.

Jonathan Burr
 
Kennedi sighed and stood up, watching Varys stagger away. The more he walked away from Kennedi, the more the leather swelled. It tightened around his neck, cutting off his air as the spell that tied Kennedi to the collar began squeezing. Kennedi stayed still, watching for signs that Varys had hit the end of his leash. It was leather, dead organic matter, so he could not speak to it nor transmute it. The iron around his neck was silent, almost...smug.

“Varys...” Kennedi called. “Stop running. You’re only going to pass out and you can’t get out of the Inner Wheel.” He was calm and sensible. His soft brown eyes pitied Varys, but he had a job to do.

Jonathan wasn’t faring much better. He stood at the closed gates to the Inner Wheel, scowling. “Look, my apprentice is in there. He may be in trouble.” He explained impatiently to the guards. “If Persian’s claimed him I have right of first refusal. He’s my apprentice.”

With no small sense of horror, he felt his collar yanked roughly from behind. The guards at the gates to the Inner Wheel chuckled. “We heard from Volta.” A guard grunted, and butted Jon in the face with his spear.

Varys
 
The fact that he wasn't breathing enough air was lost on him, his brain was still overwhelmed, swimming in a tumultuous ocean of unrecognizable, unreadable thoughts. He wasn't truly even thinking anymore, functionally unconscious in every way save for his body attempting to resist. It wasn't the leash that was causing him anguish, it was the domino effect caused by the intense mental strain that had sent his body into a state of shock.

Kennedi would have watched as the elf, half dressed, heaving for air and vacant in his eyes dropped to his knees and began to vomit, pounding his fists on the floor as though he were fighting to maintain himself. He couldn't see, he couldn't breathe or hear, and even if the leather would have listened to him, it was far too late.

Finally, rolling over with a final gurgling sound, he lay still save for the breathing movement of his stomach. One hand still lightly clutched at his neck.

Jonathan Burr
 
Jonathan woke up with the same iron collar around his throat. His nose had been tended to, set and bandaged, and he had been stripped bare. He blinked and tried to sit up, but hands pulled him back down. “We’re not done dear.” A patient voice told him. Sponges and warm water sloshed over his body. Someone was clipping and sanding his nails, and he felt the rasp of a razor...except it wasn’t on his face.

Jonathan groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. A pet collar. He flopped his head to the side and saw Varys, getting very much the same treatment. Teeth cleaned, hair brushed, nails sanded and oiled. They were in another set of baths, in a pet house of white marble and sapphire tile. “Shit...” Jon growled. “What the devil is Persian doing disrespecting his own rules? We have guest collars! Or had, anyway.”

“Wanted criminals don’t get guest collars.” The pet brushing his hair giggled.

Varys
 
Varys was undergoing the same treatments as Jonathan was, though despite the pampering he was receiving, he looked decidedly more pale than usual. He had woken before Jon, but unlike his Master he offered no resistance. His eyes were half lidded, glazed over as they stared up at the ceiling as though he had no idea what was truly happening. His thin lips were parted, and they moved to whisper words of no meaning to himself.

To say what was running through the elf's mind would be difficult.

Varys knew what they were doing, and he knew that Jon had been brought in too. He heard the pet cackling at Jon's protest, and the swearing of his Master at their situation. Varys didn't care about any of it, he wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. Let them turn him into a pet, keep him here for the rest of his life... He deserved it. He'd been chasing some ideal of being a better man than his father for so long, it took a near death experience to teach him that he was no better. He could never escape his father's sins, even if he turned a blind eye to them. They would follow him everywhere, and he would never get to just be Varys. He would always be Varys San'Seya to the world around him.

Jonathan Burr
 
The pet brushing Varys let him curl up, and patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Hey now...you’ll feel better after a good bath and massage. It’s really not that bad. Volta told us we could keep you for our own armies or sell Jonathan to Vel Anir. You’d not do well there but we could find you a nice noble family to bodyguard for.” The pet was trying to be reassuring, stroking fingers through Varys’ hair. “Or you could be their house mage, doesn’t that sound nice? A house mage that talks to the house.”

Jonathan slowly sat up and rubbed his head. “Never mind that. Where’s my mother? The bitch cared enough to have me clapped in a collar and dressed up. Surely she’s come to gloat and get me to beg.” He grumbled.

“You’re too much, Master Burr.” The pet brushing his hair giggled and pushed him playfully. “You’re already entered into the system. Emelia Bram is already circulating literature that you were killed in the desert, after being pursued by the Abbey. You’re dead!”

Jon’s face went ashen. “How...” Hob. Gods, Hob would know it was a lie wasn’t it? The pet laughed at the dumbstruck look.

“She did ask you and the apprentice be gelded but Persian objected. He thought your...hmm...were quite aesthetic.” Another pet teased.

Varys
 
Varys didn't seem to react to the words of attempted comfort. He didn't need to have his fate sugarcoated in order for him to accept it. He shakes his head free of the intruding fingers, he didn't care about Vel Anir, or Volta, or Pedeo. He didn't even care about The Prism. He wanted to go home, to Fal'Addas. Maybe he could take some of the gold they'd earned and buy himself a little place to call his own...

Jonathan was still arguing. Of course he was, it was his own mother behind all this wasn't it? He supposed he felt bad for his Master, or well... if things continued down this path, his former Master. Still, he wished he would just pipe down so he could sleep.

It was a selfish thought. Cold even.

"So that's it then? You're going to send us off to the highest bidder? Convince the world we've died?" He suddenly spoke, voice hoarse and uneven as it escaped the dry bed of his throat. "Who in the hell does Persian think he has in here?" Accepting that he wasn't going to be able to rest, he instead sits up with a pained groan.

Rolling his shoulders to check for injury, he looks over at Jon with a silent apologetic look. He wouldn't have blamed Jon for being absolutely livid with him, but redemption would have to wait. He turns to one of the pets that was tending to them, looking her up and down. "Answer my question." He said softly to her. "I didn't think even Persian was dumb enough to piss me off."

Jonathan Burr
 
“Don’t get upset. We’re all sold like that. You’re going to be trained first.” The pet pointed out. She tried to get the elf to calm down so she could fix his hair, and sighed in frustration when Varys pulled away and sat up. She frowned at him. “Dear it doesn’t matter who you were. Everyone’s identity is wiped away. Well, except for people who were born here.” She moved to open a pot of face cream.

Jonathan glared at both Varys and the pet. “Boy. Stop it. We have to work together and think to get out of this. Can you speak to the floor or walls?” He asked his apprentice. The pets laughed.

“You think you’re the first mage to try? The collar will dampen it until they can trust you.” An elven pet informed them. “Just settle in and we’ll get you sorted.”

Varys
 
Ugh. If he didn't like the idea of being a petslave, he doubted he'd like what the training entailed. Jon's interjection was met with the rolling of eyes and the ire of a very irked Varys. "Oh, don't 'boy' me right now, Jon. What are they going to do if I talk back, double enslave us?" They were not in a Master and Apprentice situation right now, and Varys was in no mood to be scolded. "Do you know how they trapped me? The whole damned city was speaking to me at once. In the span of a few hours, I've been nearly drowned, found out the entire foundation for my trip out here was a fallacy, and now I have some giggling slave girl trying to groom me like I'm a prize-winning dog. Do not 'boy' me." He repeated.

He didn't even bother speaking to the room around them. He knew it wouldn't work even before the pets said it wouldn't. No, if they were going to get out of this one it was going to take some very slick moves. Right now, there wasn't anything they could do. They would have to wait until they were being moved, he figures.

He gives the pet with the cream a rather snarky look. "If mine was such an easy name to erase, I'd have done it a long time ago, but thank you." He slides his hands over his face, groaning. "I wrote Varys San'Seya on the name list. If word gets out that somebody with that name disappeared." It almost made him chuckle. "Oh god, Jon. Imagine the heads rolling if rumors of that death mysteriously start showing up."

Jonathan Burr
 
Jonathan glared at Varys. “Well, you’re not trained yet so this is the last time I’ll be able to do this without losing a hand.” He growled. He stood up, marched over to Varys, and cracked a hand across his cheek. Varys was clearly losing it, and he needed his apprentice with a clear head and a calm mind. He couldn’t have him blaring that name to everyone within earshot. Pets talked. Even if his name was on the travel record, it was best not to volunteer that sort of information.

“I warned you. I wanted you to stay with me so we could investigate the voice together. Instead, you decided to slip a note to a pet to lie and keep me stalled! This is why I asked you to wait for me, Varys. We didn’t know what sort of history you had with this city. We had to be careful. You didn’t listen.” He said sharply. Varys had delved too deep too quickly. He could have lost him to the city! Imagining Varys mad, stumbling around whimpering about people stepping on his floors too hard, made his gut twist.

“Speaking is as much a responsibility as Changing is. Men. Go. Mad.” Jon touched his shoulder, sighing. “Try and ignore the city for a while. You need to get your head on straight.”

Varys
 
Varys certainly seemed to see it differently than Jon did. People kept hunting him down for his Father's name, so why would it matter? If it became known that 'San'Seya' had become a slave, there'd be people looking for him. The slap wasn't met with submission; Varys turned his head, raising a hand to his cheek with a growl. Did Jon have any idea how silly the notion of sleep was with an entire city boring into your ear? He'd already wanted to keep Varys in this city for months, away from what he wanted most. They would have had to deal with it eventually.

"How many times have I had to pull our asses out of the fire now? I had a problem that you wanted to ignore, and I went to deal with it. Yeah, I should have waited. Then what? You know as well as I do that we'd still have been snagged up sooner or later, especially if your mother is involved."

The hand on his shoulder wasn't spurned, but no warmth seemed to spring to the elf's face. He was exhausted and angry, and no amount of comforting was going to make him feel better while they were in this situation. "This world of magic and slavery wasn't mine. I just wanted to find answers about who I was." He grit his teeth, looking away from him. "Don't talk like I chose this responsibility and it wasn't just thrust upon me..."

Jonathan Burr
 
Jon was quiet. Guilty. He had gotten them into this. They hadn’t needed to stay so long in Pedeo, and he could have surmised that his mother had lain a trap. Separated from Hob, it had been the perfect time to go after him. He dropped his hand from Varys’ shoulder, looking down at the floor. His life was chaos and he’d just dragged Varys into it. He sat back, shaking his head. Would an apology even matter at this point?

The pet who had been grooming Varys clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Well, it’s the Center Wheel for you, anyway.” She said to Varys. “Get up and come with me, Varys.” She stood up expectantly, and eyed the elf. “We could always call someone to knock you out again.” She warned.

Varys
 
Varys's gaze shifted between Jon and the pet. Begrudgingly, he did as he was told and rose to his feet slowly. "Alright. I won't put up a struggle with you." He told the pet. He felt just as guilty, but he had allowed his frustration with their luck to reach a boil. That luck was in part Jon's doing, but it also wasn't the fault of his direct actions. He couldn't control his mother, and if it wasn't in Pedeo, it would have been somewhere else. He'd been too hard on him with that outburst...

Raising a finger to the pet, he leans forward. "A moment of privacy, just let me tell him goodbye..." He wasn't so naïve that he thought she'd leave them alone, so instead, he turned back to Jon, kneeling down in front of him and speaking in a whisper.

"Look, Jon..." He reached out, putting his hands on the man's shoulders. "That wasn't fair, I'm sorry." He'd always had a temper, but Jon and Hob had done well in tempering it for the duration of their time together. He hated that he'd let it out on him. "Look... I'll figure this out. I'll... come back for you and get us out of this. Just like I always do." He pats Jon's shoulder, and stands to follow the pet. He calls back to Jon, "If you give up, I'll never let you hear the end of it."

Jonathan Burr
 
The pet nodded her head approvingly. She hadn’t wanted to call someone in to bash Varys about the head. Dealing with mages was always more difficult, but it was different than working with someone who was, oh, stronger than another slave. Strength didn’t need brains. The intelligent needed gentler, firmer hands. Hands more geared to putting in the work than she was. She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Varys’ finger. Just who did he think he was? He acted more like a deposed regent.

Jon sighed and looked up at Varys. “If you’d ever listened to me, listen now. You have to play this game.” He whispered. “Persian wants to see you, which means he probably knows who San’Seya is. Be careful.”

He gave Varys an encouraging smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and let him go. The expectant elf cleared her throat, turned elegantly on one heel, and led Varys out of the pet house. She looked back over one shoulder as they hit the wide, cobblestone streets of the Inner Wheel.

“You’re a pet in training now, so no one here can hurt you. If someone ever strikes or mistreats you, you’re protected and owned by the city.” She told him sternly. “That said, until you choose a profession, you do what other pets tell you. If you’re good, you go to Auction. You’ll either be sold, or if you go over the price Persian has appraised you at, you’ll be freed and keep the difference. You’re protected from recapture until your foot hits the sea. Understood?”

Varys
 
Varys nodded at his Master, glad that he understood that the elf didn't hold any true anger towards him. Given all that Jonathan had told Varys about Persian, he already had little doubt that the mysterious man knew exactly who he was dealing with. That could be looked upon as a bad thing, but Varys could also use it to his advantage if he was careful.

He offered another parting wave to Jon as he left him there, exiting with the pet out into the Inner Wheel. He was in the stickiest of situations, but the stubborn speaker wasn't about to give up on finding a way out of this ordeal. First thing came first though, and his ears twitched lightly as the pet went over what came next. She was only met with the pursing of his lips, a small "Mmm" leaving his throat. He was noting her words, but he wasn't entirely concerned with them.

He didn't plan to be in this little 'system' for too long. Should he leave the city though... He sighed. He only hoped that Hob wouldn't do anything reckless and get herself killed. Once word got out about this... he could only imagine what she might do.

"If he wanted me to work for him, he coulda just asked me real nicely." He offered a bit sassily to her, a smirk playing at his lips. If she thought this walk of shame was going to happen without him being a bit of a smartass, she was mistaken. "Fine. Let's see what he has to tell me. The suspense is starting to ache."

Jonathan Burr
 
The elf flicked an ear and looked back at Varys, raising an eyebrow. “It was an arrangement, not incidental.” She said sharply. “Keep talking like that and you’ll get yourself gelded.” She lifted her nose in the air, and kept walking. They were looked at by passersby and their pets, who turned to their masters and giggled.

The Inner Wheel had sprawling lawns and gardens scattered throughout, mostly for the enjoyment of the upper class of Pedeo. Estates affixed to the far walls rotated by lazily, so that the rich needn’t have bothered leaving their homes for errands. They merely had to wait until the city came to them, and come to them it did. Small shops sent out runners to the front doors of homes, laden down with packages. There were people running themselves in shafts of sunlight streaming down from the ceiling far above, having lunch at restaurants, and relaxing with books on benches by the road.

The Centre Wheel was marked by an ornate iron doorway, that locked into the Inner Wheel by a pair of large gargoyles. The pet marched right up to the doors, put her hands behind her back, and waited. A man opened the heavy doors, and smiled at her. He was middle age, going grey at the temples, with sharp green eyes. A pair of glasses were shoved up onto his forehead, and he dressed more like an engineer than the regent of a city. He sported a long canvas coat, with a hundred pockets carrying everything from a sextant to a flask. He looked past the pet to Varys.

“Ah, Varys, good evening. Come in.” Persian told him, stepping away from the door. “Youre dismissed, Area.” He called back to the elf. She rolled her eyes.

“Dont be a smart arse.” She growled at Varys, and marched off.

The Centre Wheel looked more like a cylindrical home. The ground floor boasted drafting tables, desks, chemical flasks, and benches for engineering. A wooden staircase led upstairs, where the steel walls gave way to red paint and wooden trim. Persian gestured toward a plush red chair with a small mahogany coffee table in the corner, next to a roaring fireplace. A fireplace with flames that, strangely, put out cool air.

“I’m glad you haven’t rubbed your skin raw attacking the collar; is it comfortable?” Persian asked, without any malice. He genuinely wanted to know. “I am Persian De Soto, as you’ve probably realized the designer and owner of this city. While we’ve gotten off to a strange foot I hope it’s not a bad one. I know you arent the real Varys San’Seya...but I think I do know what you are, and that intrigues me.”

Varys
 
Varys had been so afflicted by Pedeo's voice booming off of the walls of his own mind the last time he'd walked through the Inner Wheel, and it had been before dawn. He hadn't had a good look at just well maintained and upper class it was compared to the rest of the city. The runners he spotted darting to and fro were an interesting sight; He figured one could probably make a decent living off delivering goods in the Inner Wheel, assuming they didn't just use pets to do it.

He flicked his eyes back to the obviously disapproving escort he'd been provided. "Relax. Can't a guy have some fun while he still has the chance?" He wasn't trying to escape, was he? She didn't have anything to worry about. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the hot air beat against his face as they approached the Centre, it's tower like structure and gargoyles would have intimidated Varys if he wasn't already so deep in the shit. Whatever waited for him inside couldn't be much worse than out here, he figured.

As the pet approached the broad iron doors, he made a point to wolf whistle at her as her backside was turned to him. It wasn't a genuine expression, but it would piss her off, and that was his goal.

To say that the man who answered her knock was what he expected however, would be a lie.

He was far too intrigued by the man who greeted them to note Area's flippant remark as she passed him by. He had a mental image of what a wealthy slave trading city regent looked like. This man? He actually reminded him more of Burr than he did of a noble. The not too pristine, but not dirty aesthetic mixed with the elements of a man who didn't shy from physical labor was actually strikingly reminiscent of his Master.

God, Jon would have killed him if he'd heard Varys make that comparison.

Varys stepped forward, following him into the building. "I assume you're the one I've heard such glowing reviews of?" He asked. The sarcasm was there, but he followed the advice he was given to some extent, turning down the sass in his voice considerably. He took in his surroundings with a raised eyebrow. He'd definitely mistaken what this man would be like. He wouldn't have thought him to be of any ill repute if he'd ran into him on the street. He seemed rather harmless, but he supposed that was where his true danger may lie.

Walking towards the chair he was beckoned to, tearing his attention away from the rather workshop-ish deco of the place, he answered. "I'd say it'd be much more comfortable were it off of me, but I'm sure you've heard that line enough to last a lifetime." He shrugged, lowering into the seat and listening.

De Soto didn't waste any time in broaching the topic of his identity. Not the real San'Seya? How would he possibly know that? His pointed ears flicked upwards, his eyes growing a bit wider as he raised his head to attention. It was possible that the information from his father's notebook had been passed to him from the University in Volta, he supposed... "I'll be honest with you..." he began, articulating his words to sound as respectful as possible in what he was about to say. "The city that you built nearly drowning me to death and then imprisoning my Master and I... Well, I'd have to be very generous not to call that a bad foot."

He tilted his head. There was something that Persian had said... something that was off. He held his tongue though, that information could be vital in the future. He had to watch what he told De Soto. "It intrigues you? You're far from the only one. Trouble has been having it's way with me lately, Mr. De Soto. You'll have to forgive me if I'm less than enthusiastic about our meeting." He shifts his weight uncomfortably. "Honestly, if you'd requested my presence through more reasonable means, I would have come."

Jonathan Burr
 
“Well then,” Persian approached Varys and simply...took the collar off as though it had been laying loosely around his throat. He set it on the coffee table. “You’ll have to wear that when you leave, but there’s really no point in here.”

He sat down in a similar chair across the coffee table, opposite Varys. He fished about in his pocket, and set down a very familiar book with a prism on the front. “Interesting translation.” He commented. “The old Varys would never have suffered Burr for a master. As much as Jonathan is a kind hearted soul, that pooka of his has given him bad luck of a sort that’s very hard to wash off. Your creator would have seen no use for such a man, no matter how talented. Bad luck rubs off on those around it. No judgement on Jonathan, of course.”

Persian settled his elbows on his knees. “Varys, if you’re here, and you’re not the San’Seya I knew, that means two things. He’s dead, and his homunculus experiment has taken an interesting turn. I have an interest in seeing how far this has gone. If San’Seya’s soul is truly departed, or if he is lurking about in there. Whether you have a soul of your own. I will cut to the chase; if you are both in there you have become the second person in Arethil to house two souls at once that I know of, and still be a functional being.” Persian said. “The first is Rheinhard Volker, a man jealously guarded by his master. The potential second is you. The third is my own failed experiment who can never leave this city for his own safety.”

Persian raised an eyebrow. “As for you coming to me on your own, I needed you to stay. Mayor Bram needed her son punished. We found a way to accomplish both. The way I see it, I may be able to untangle you, boy. If I can untangle you, I can cure Legion. If I can cure Legion, I can begin afresh. At the moment he uses considerable resources.” He said frankly. “I made Jon a pet to satisfy Bram, which bought me the journal and you. Dont take this the wrong way, I don’t intend to harm you or...whatever ghastly strapped-to-a-table nightmare you’re no doubt imagining. I don’t hurt my pets.”

Varys
 
His hand darted for his neck touching at the skin that had been covered up by that blasted collar. It was relief, even if he knew it was a temporary one. As payment, he had to suffer listening to Persian begin belittling his Master. This sort of dismissal of another's relationships was something much more in line with what Varys had been expecting from the man, and he almost felt a pang of disappointment.

It wasn't anywhere near the anger he felt when he brought up Hob.

"I would kindly ask." he began, the bubbling anger obvious in his voice "That you not speak ill of my girlfriend." Certainly I can at least request that?" If anything, that would throw Persian off, and at this point, Varys was ready to throw the presumptuous man for a loop. His gaze flicked down to the blue journal that he'd left in Volta. Just as he'd suspected. Persian was a man powerful enough to get that information, and old enough to have known San'Seya. "You speak truly enough, Varys San'Seya was insufferable, selfish prick." The hand on his neck slid up to the bridge of his nose, pinching it as his eyes slid shut. "He could hardly coexist with anybody, let alone somebody with as kind a heart as Jonathan. Even so..."

His hands fell to his lap, and he rolls his neck a bit, enjoying freedom for the short while it lasted. "If you were hoping that I did indeed house multiple souls, you might just be disappointed I'm afraid." Funny story, that was. Pedeo's attack on his mind had made him even more sure of things than he had been before. For better or for worse. "Even if I were to have multiple 'souls' inside of me, they're all telling me that sacrificing my loyalty for my freedom isn't the way to go." He was speaking calm, but inside he was seething in anger.

Jonathan's capture was once again all because of him. Persian had only bothered so that he could get to Varys. "And for all the bad luck the Pooka has granted Jon, I'd say you certainly did your best to shift that blame onto me this go around. Let me tell you a secret, Mr. De Soto."

It was what had been bugging him since he'd left that pool. An undeniable fact that had been gnawing away at him ever since it had awoken in his brain. He wasn't going to be a part of Persian's 'untangling' experiment. Varys wasn't tangled. He hadn't been from the very beginning, and only now did he come face to face with speaking the truth aloud, confronting the illusion.

"I'm not the Varys San'Seya you knew. But I am Varys San'Seya, born anew just as I said I would be."

Jonathan Burr
 
Persian watched Varys carefully. So he had been in a relationship with the pooka. If Varys thought he could surprise him with that fact he was sorely mistaken. It was interesting, if nothing less, and he could see he was angering the boy. “That I can do.” He said simply. “Jonathan is a promising and kind young man, and I grant you that San’Seya would have torn him to shreds emotionally if not physically. It was in the man’s nature. He used me, and I allowed him to because it satisfied some curiosity. But I was never under any illusions of what he was.”

Persian chuckled. “You can’t trade loyalty like that, and I think both you and I know it.” He leaned in slightly, and listened. A small smile graced his features. “Then it is you. Only some part of the slate has been wiped clean and...some hasn’t. I dare say you might have learned some humility and emotional attachment, even. I’m willing to let you continue your work here then, Varys, under my rule. Jon has an arrangement to be gelded and sold. He is lucky to escape with his skin....and I admit I bargained her down from some more critical organs for your sake. Her original idea was removing his kidneys and letting him slowly die, poisoned by his own body. This way, at least he will be relatively unharmed.”

Persian stood, and picked up the collar. “I plan to try and breed him first, however. Talent that runs in those veins ought not be wasted. It may take some time to get a lab set up for you, but since you’ve already successfully transferred one soul from one body to the next...can you repeat it on someone else?”

Varys
 
Varys had remembered it as he felt the water attempting to fill his lungs in the pool. He remembered doing it, transferring his soul with the Prism into his new body. The intense emotion that had coupled with that act, coursing through his veins. Maybe it could be argued that it was his life flashing before his eyes, or maybe it was something he'd known for some time, only just now accepting as the truth.

Either way, this 'father' he'd been loathing was a ghost. He'd been loathing himself this whole time, the one he'd thrown countless insults at. The one his lover wanted to gut. It was all his doing. Honestly, if Persian had wanted to kill him, or torture him... he'd have deserved it. It seemed no such luck was in store, however. Varys didn't care what happened to him anymore, but he owed Jonathan a debt. He'd brought him into this, and he needed to get him out.

The lack of any surprise on Persian's face as he explained his motives in further detail didn't bode well for him, however.

"I... I only know that it's me. Like you said, some of the slate was wiped clean." He had an inkling he knew what had happened. "The magic was imperfect. I probably messed it up somehow, causing me to retain the memories of the dummied out body I'd made." It made sense, the life he'd made would have remembered Varys San'Seya as the one who'd made him and lived with him. When Varys found only those memories upon waking up... He spent so long believing he was the second, but the opposite had been true the entire time.

He was the original, but he was different now. Without whatever twistedness lied within him before, he'd learned love. He'd learned companionship and the difference between right and wrong. Maybe he was Varys San'Seya, a borderline sociopathic wizard.

But he was Varys San'Seya, a borderline sociopathic wizard who was the apprentice to Jonathan Burr. Who had met the love of his life in the strangest of places. Who'd travelled the entire world to right the wrongs that he himself had committed. He didn't know every detail about who he'd been, but that didn't matter.

Because he was their Varys now, and that was who he wanted to be.

A plan took root in his mind, a dangerous, stupid, one in a million plan.

But a plan nonetheless.

One that could save himself, Jonathan, and Hob.

A plan that would let him have his family back.

As Persian rose to his feet, Varys' eyes followed him, and he stood up with him. He'd been a terrible liar when he'd met Jon. Card tricks aside, he'd always had a difficult time hiding things from people. Now, if he wanted to fix all of this, he was going to have to bluff harder than he'd ever bluffed before.

"I can do it. I can transfer souls as many times as you like, as long as you're willing to make a deal with me. I have three conditions." He raised his hand, holding up a finger. "One. You have to bring me the Prism, or it's impossible." He holds up another finger. "Two. I must be allowed to leave the city to enjoy the company of my lover. I'll wear the collar, or go under supervision if that is necessary for you to trust I won't flee."

He held up a third finger. This one was the most difficult one, but he had reason to believe he could convince Persian. "Three. Jonathan Burr must stay here in Pedeo, and when the time comes... He will be my test subject." Before Persian can object, he continues "Bram made a major mistake. She gave you what you wanted before you delivered her your end of the bargain. There is nothing forcing you to hand over Jonathan. Volta is strong, but we both know they wouldn't risk attacking somebody with your stature over Burr." He spread his arms, making his case "Besides, this is what she wants. By allowing me to use him as my test subject for a new, improved soul switching, he will perish anyways. You have nothing to lose..."

He approaches Persian now, carefully extending a hand to him, offering to seal this deal with him. "...And everything to gain."

Jonathan Burr
 
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