Private Tales Fireworks and a White Rabbit

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
“No magic is perfect.” Persian agreed, raising an eyebrow. “But you would stab your master in the spine like that? As far as I can tell he’s been a good man to you.” He regarded Varys suspiciously. “I’ll do my best to get you your prism, but I’m afraid you aren’t leaving Pedeo. I know all too well what happens when a pet is allowed an undeserved long lead. I’m sorry, Varys, but she will just have to wait until our work is complete. She can be your motivation; if she loves you like you say, she’ll be patient.”

He shook his head a bit. “I don’t know what your motivations are for wanting to murder Jonathan Burr, but perhaps you should see the man you’re going to be curing before you leap to any plans. He does need your help, Varys, and while you haven’t been the most empathetic creature...he deserves this. He and the others are willing to take the risk; I’ve discussed it with all of them at length.” Persian said, his tone gentle as though speaking of the dying. “Besides, why should we give that wretched woman anything more?”

Persian nodded his head to a small door down the hallway from the work room. “Come with me.” The hallway was simple, with wood flooring and lightly painted walls. Schematics and drawings of machines hung in frames, though none were dusty or in ill repair. Persian stopped before a side door, and grasped the knob. “This, Varys, is Legion. My failure to copy what you did.”

The door opened up to a fairly normal library, if a bit cluttered. There were dozens of shelves reaching all the way up to the ceiling in staggering heights, arranged neatly in rows and ringing the room. In the center of a pile of books was a man around Varys’ age, with long brown hair. He was dressed simply, in dark linen clothing. Both hands were writing simultaneously on two surfaces. One foot held a pen and was writing music; the other was scribbling rude drawings. All four limbs moved completely independently of one another, without hitch or hesitation.One eye scanned a book on the desk before him, while the other swung up to meet them with a steady gray gaze.

“Persian, good evening- morning. Afternoon. Is it night yet? Day? Who cares? It’s important to keep track of- who’s that? The fucking child?! A pet? He looks nice. He’s a little shit I can tell. How sweet, nice to meet you. Been a while since- bred here? No. Doesn’t smell like here. Not metal- woods. Born outside. What does it matter?” A dozen voices chimed, as though a hundred men lunged for control of one mouth.

“This is Varys San’Seya, Legion. He’s come to help.” Persian said, patiently.

“Help? Help? There’s no help. Thank the gods you’ve come. Too young. Stupid boy! What could you do? San’Seya was older. Old git! No? Give him a chance then. Help how? No! Yes! We need it.”

Varys San'Seya
 
Frustration bubbled up in Varys' gut. Persian wasn't taking the bait exactly like he'd wanted, instead scrutinizing his motives behind the bait. He'd known that getting one over on this one wasn't going to be easy, and he lowered his hand, doing his best to hide an angry sneer that threatened to come to his lips. Instead, the elf merely narrowed his eyes as the powerful man attempted to reason with him and lower his expectations. He couldn't bend, and he certainly couldn't compromise. Not when so much was at stake. "You ask for my help with such a tumultuous task, something only I know how to handle, and yet you will not cooperate with me? Your negotiation skills are as unrefined as I remember."

He didn't place any sharpness in the observation, but it was clear as they began to make their way down the hall that he was displeased. He needed to think on his feet, to tell him something that would change his mind. "Please, Persian. 'Murder' is a strong term. Nor his body or soul will technically die, so long as I do my job correctly. Instead of questioning my motives, perhaps you could be willing to give me what I want so that I can actually help you?" He sighed. Maybe Jonathan was expendable... he'd be taken care of, and Varys could find him when his plan was complete... Maybe...

"Of course, if you'd rather just sell me into slavery and spent a few more years waiting for a breakthrough of your own..." He didn't make direct eye contact with De Soto as they passed by all of the sketches and diagrams that littered the walls. Instead, when they turned to the side passage he selected, he perks up an eyebrow at his claim, not responding to it as they entered.

The library, in Varys' opinion, matched the rest of the building in terms of aesthetic; It was cluttered and lived in and yet clean and awe-inspiring at the same time. His eyes travel up to the extreme heights that the shelves attempted to reach. It was an impressive collection, but then Varys had a feeling that wasn't why he'd been brought here.

Legion. The man was a sad sight. He looked healthy enough, but a look at his actions could tell you that he was an experiment gone terribly wrong. Each part of his body worked independently of one another, each new thought from a different mindset. He could never have a normal life, instead he was destined to suffer. If his appearance didn't tip you off to abnormality, his speech would. Varys hardly caught the rapid words the man spat, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes in disgust.

"De Soto, what in the hells did you do?" He groaned, feeling a bit of that pride that he'd built up in his life forgotten weeping at the sight of such failure. He turned to his warden, sighing. He didn't even want to look at Legion. "You ask me to fix..." He gestured towards the frantic man. "This?! How many different sides to his psyche are there? A dozen? More? This is a tall order, Persian." He shook his head a bit, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He'd have to try again. "And It's an order I'll not be entertaining if you aren't willing to do as I ask." He brought a hand to the side of his head. "I'll even drop the subject of Jon as long as you allow me to see my partner." If need be, he could attempt to be the main bond himself...

Jonathan Burr
 
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Persian could tell he was disappointed, but he hid his own suspicions well. He sighed, and looked at Varys. “There are three hundred men, women, and children there. It was entirely accidental. The spell I used to bring one soul to a new body decided to pull everyone in the immediate vicinity into him instead. Unfortunately that means the poor boy is somewhere hidden in there, behind the crowd. I’d like to free most of them, and ease his suffering. If you can do it as many times as this requires...then it should just be repetitive for you.”

Persian patted Varys’ shoulder. “I want no distractions. I’ll see what I can do about getting you Burr to mess about with, as long as Bram agrees. The poor man...but not many who tangle with you last, Varys. I will grant you this; remove one soul from Legion and I will let you see your woman. It may be a bit, I have to get scouts out to find your prism.” He said lightly. “In the meantime, please, make yourself comfortable in the room upstairs. It’s smaller than you’re used to, but I am a man of science...not leisure.”

The slaver gestures to the hallway. “Shall we have dinner? Emelia Bram awaits us. I only thought it proper you have something civilized to eat before you begin work tomorrow.” He smiled, and led Varys down the hallway toward the dining room. It was comfortable for six people, and Bram had taken a seat at the head of the table. She eyed Varys.

“How nice to see you wearing a collar.” She took a sip of her water.

Varys San'Seya
 
Varys bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn't sure if he would be able to pull off a soul transfer, not without the memories he still was without. He'd have to look over the notebook, and see if he could decipher his own methods. Still... "300 souls..." He shook his head, looking at Legion with a rather exasperated expression, his lips remaining in a frown. "You know as well as I do that even if they're removed, the damage inflicted on him is likely permanent..." Persian hadn't said he aimed to cure him though, only ease the pain. Varys supposed that was a reasonable goal. One soul... if he could manage that on his own, and convince Bram to at least keep Burr in the city for the time being... This crazed plan of his might have a shot at working.

Running a hand through his hair, he allows his eyes to move slowly back to the man who had a hand on his shoulder. He was compromising, at least. Helping Legion must have had significant worth to De Soto if he was willing to bend his own rules to make it happen. He nods, slowly. "I can accept those terms." He spoke softly, before raising his voice to a more hardy one. He had to sound the part as well. "The Prism is located somewhere within the Sand Sea, near an oasis. I was planning on conducting a search myself once I'd raised the proper funding."

He shrugs, turning to follow him out of the room, but not before casting another glance at Legion... Something came to his mind, something he'd need to keep in mind for later. For now though, he shakes his head. He didn't care what his accommodations were, so long as he could be alone for a minute. He knew he'd need it when he heard Bram's name cross De Soto's lips. Immediately his brow furrowed in anger, but he did his best to contain himself. "Oh, wonderful. Dinner with that witch is probably more torturous than any slavery." He groaned.

Upon entering, he immediately met Emelia's eyes with his own, narrowed in naught but contempt for the woman. This room would have been so pleasant were it not for her presence. "And it's nice to see you with your lips so firmly planted to the ass of a more powerful man. Is it Tuesday already?" He didn't pay her another moment of his glance, and he turned to sit beside De Soto. If he was going to have to live with him, it didn't hurt to build trust.

"It's funny." Varys began, "Mr. De Soto said we were going to have dinner, but lo and behold the cow hasn't even been slaughtered yet, let alone cut and cooked."

Jonathan Burr
 
“I’m well aware of the damage I’ve caused. Mostly, I want some of it mitigated. If it isn’t possible to relieve his suffering, he has asked I put him down in the gentlest way I can.” Persian said soberly. “I’ll send a team out in search of your Prism.”

As they settled down to dinner, Bram’s expression was stony. Persian looked even less amused by the shots Varys was taking against Emelia. Bram didn’t flinch, but she did snap her fingers and call one of the household pets to her side. “Remove two of my son’s fingers. Slowly.” She said lightly, and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “You were saying, Varys?”

“Emelia let’s attempt to be civil. You have your son brought to heel and I have my solution.” Persian told her firmly, and put a hand on Varys’ shoulder. “Enough, San’Seya.” It wouldn’t do any good to poke Emelia here, especially when she had full control of the situation. Varys was given a cloth for his lap; it wasn’t unusual for pets to be naked during dinner, but they did want to prevent any scalding.

A light course of seafood appetizers was put before them. Two of them, actually. A smirk teased at Emelia’s lips. Pets were usually hand fed by their masters at these sort of events. If Varys wanted to play this game he’d have to take the offered shrimp from Persian’s fingers.

“Oh come now Varys, I’m sure you’re used to taking scraps from stronger men.” Emelia teased, watching him with no small amount of amusement.

Varys San'Seya
 
Varys merely nodded at Persian's words, he didn't like the idea of killing Legion, So at least he now found a reason to genuinely want to help. Be that as it may, The reception he got from both De Soto and Bram was enough to illustrate just how difficult this was going to be. The self-satisfied smirk on the elf's face faded when she called the pet in and gave him his orders, obviously meant to upset Varys.

It worked, but he kept his cool.

As Persian's hand came to rest on his shoulder, Varys offered the tilt of his head in affirmation. The woman could obviously dish it out, but she seemed to have a hard time taking it. Typical. Settling into his seat and placing the cover over his lap, he leaned back. "I'm glad at least that she's not hiding what game we're playing..." He offered.

The food served did look rather delicious, and San'Seya only now realized just how hungry he was. Of course, Persian picked up the food and held it to him as if to feed him. Emelia certainly seemed to be looking forward to watching it happen herself. In an act of the tiniest bit of defiance, he reached out and plucked the bit of food from De Soto's hands, quickly popping it into his mouth. "Yes, well... despite your efforts, Your son has grown to be a stronger one than both of us. That's why we must make sure not to let you waste to that strength on your family squabble." It wasn't an insult directed to Emelia, rather him calling attention to an important topic.

It wasn't his place to lay out the details, he knew that if he spoke anymore out of turn it wasn't going to do him any favors when it came to getting them to go along with his plan. "I only offer my humble opinion that Jonathan is far too valuable to just sell off to the highest bidder. Of course Mr. De Soto has the final say in this."

Jonathan Burr
 
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Emelia eyed Varys, and looked to Persian. “Are you in the habit of letting pets dictate conversation, much less insult guests?” She asked, casually, as though inquiring about a lamp. If it bothered Persian, the man didn’t show it.

“Varys. You’ve insulted our guest. You’ve lost seating privileges. Under the table.” He told him sharply. “Or I put the collar on.”

“You’re far too indulgent with them.” Emelia commented. “But he did make a fair point, that my son is gifted and quite valuable. In light of me taking away a potential sale, I’ll make sure you get the metal and salt you need from Volta. I’ll even lend you some of our mages that haven’t managed to anger me, as long as you promise not to collar them.”

Persian offered Varys another shrimp, under the table this time, then pulled aside a smaller plate to make one up for him. Varys wasn’t used to taking things from his hand like a properly trained pet. He was still quite independent and strong-willed, and Persian didn’t expect him to bend too quickly. He put the plate on the floor like he would for a dog. Varys obviously wanted his master with them. Persian was inclined to agree, but tangling with Volta was a poor idea.

“Quite generous, Emelia. I did want to ask that your son do some work converting elements for me before you take him. There are personal projects I need a Changer for, not a Speaker like Varys.” Persian pointed out. Who was to say using him like that couldn’t suddenly go wrong? Either way Varys would have his guinea pig.

“Very well. I’ll keep a pet of equivalent value as insurance.” Emelia countered as their meals came. Sliced steak, potatoes, and green beans grown in Pedeo. Persian nodded, and set aside a small portion for Varys. Emelia tutted. “Really, De Soto, you’ll spoil him. Perhaps he does something for it.”

“And what would you suggest?” Persian asked without looking at her.

Emelia chuckled. “Have him entertain us.”

Varys San'Seya
 
Varys looked over at Persian, offering him an expression that could only be read in an 'are you serious?' manner. He may have agreed to some of the terms that San'Seya had put forward, but it was clear that he wasn't seen as an equal in the slightest. With a roll of his eyes, he rose from his seat and instead lowered to the floor, crossing his legs as he listened to their words.

He had to admit, the part of him that recognized himself for who he had been before was fuming; That small remnant of ego raged like wildfire at the notion of this degradation. Despite this, he figured it wasn't worth taking the risk to pipe up again.

The talk of Jonathan as though he were some commodity and not a person... it troubled him. Even more troubling was that he'd participated in the talk just moments earlier. He'd owe his master a sincere apology, as soon as they were out of this...

What Varys didn't understand is why Persian cared about Volta at all? Trade was one thing, but Persian was one of the most powerful men there were; Volta couldn't do much to harm them, and he doubted he would see much blowback from merely shooing her away.

It was possible that Varys' sight was twisted, as he saw the woman as nothing more than a gnat, even when she'd shown herself to be powerful. He thought nothing of her, even now he dismissed her.

The plate placed in front of him went untouched, his glare the only thing touching the shrimps on the plate. A shame, as he liked shrimps quite a bit. He would perhaps entertain De Soto's gestures at some point, but never would he do so in front of Bram.

That seemed to be what she had in mind though, as he heard her make a suggestion to Persian. Entertainment? That could mean... several different things. He didn't like any of them.

Jonathan Burr
 
Persian was relieved Varys didn’t fight too hard, and rather glowered instead of making a scene. He’d have to reward him later. Pets in training usually didn’t have to put up with this, and those trained weren’t likely to act this poorly. Thankfully Varys was handling it gracefully. He reached under the table and ran his fingers through Varys’ hair briefly in thanks.

“What do you suggest, Emelia?” Persian asked lightly.

“Have any good fighting pets showing promise?”

“Hardly appropriate, given he’s more of a scholar.” Persian protested. “Though I sense you’re not the sort to be entertained by dissertations or poetry readings.”

“As though he knew a word of poetry.” Emelia laughed and took a sip of her wine, tapping her chin in thought. How to embarrass him...she smiled. “Varys. Get your plate to dance.” She kicked him under the table, not entirely caring what part of his anatomy she aimed for. She was watching Persian. Persian, while strict and running a city on slavery, was no sadist. He sold pampered and intellectual pets, not hard working men and women. Cute little things who knew astrology and art and accounting. Persian’s great skill was seeing an urchin on the street and making him into a lord’s beloved treasure six months later.

Persian narrowed his eyes at her for the kick. “May I remind you damaging a pet is forbidden, even bruising.” His tone was frosty.

“My foot must have slipped. I’m not accustomed to dogs under the table. Well, Varys?” She asked in a sing song voice. This time she used her boot to nudge along his cheek.

Varys San'Seya
 
The elf was less than grateful for the affectionate gesture of his hair being stroked, but he was beginning to believe in the old 'Enemy of my enemy is my friend' adage. He got the feeling Persian didn't like Emelia anymore than he did, and if listening to him meant Emelia didn't have an excuse to be the bitch that she was, he could forsake a little big of his own dignity.

'More of a scholar'. He'd never considered himself such, but he supposed it rang somewhat true. He wasn't a scholar of anything publicly accepted though, not if the mess his own notes being seen by Volta's university had taught him anything. Gods, what a stupid idea that had been. It was so unlike he or Jon to make such an error in judgement, one that had brought them to this point.

His thoughts are broken by a kick to his leg, causing him to slide back with a sharp swear. The bitch had almost nailed his delicates! Luckily, De Soto was kind enough to scold her for that one, but he'd need to watch himself and not get so distracted. She was still going on about entertainment, asking him to speak to his dinnerware, to make it put on some silly show for her.

It wasn't about the dinnerware, she just wanted to control him.

As her boot connected with his face, he sneered up at her for a moment, before allowing it to be replaced with a smile. His voice dropped to that of submissive obedience, meek and light. "My sincerest apologies Ma'am, but I'm bidden to take orders only from my owner, Mr. De Soto. Please take it up with him."

Jonathan Burr
 
Since when did Varys San’Seya know how to bite his tongue? Persian would have expected his old acquaintance to make the woman’s own shoelaces wind around her neck, not meekly deferred. Persian would have pardoned him from the action...were it not Emelia. He needed Volta. Volta meant steel and salt, two things poorly needed in the desert. While he traded Volta glass, since they couldn’t make their own on their rocky plane.

He could break from her, but doing so would hurt his own people. He could never do that. He sighed and looked down at Varys. “I would appreciate it if you would do as she asks.” He told Varys. “Come on up.”

“Between his legs and over his lap like a proper pet.” Emelia chuckled.

“Mayor Bram, he isn’t a bed companion. More like an associate in science.” Persian said sharply. He also had a feeling San’Seya might be tempted to elbow him between the legs.

“So you don’t plan to breed him? With that talent?” Emelia sounded disappointed.

“And you don’t want any grandchildren?” Persian stepped that question aside. Emelia snorted.

“Three, through my granddaughter, who is much more appreciative of her gifts.” Mayor Bram said sourly. “Well, Varys?”

Varys San'Seya
 
Varys was beginning to realize that despite Persian's strength, he was just as under another's thumb as anybody else in Arethil. He was quickly beginning to grow tired of the nonstop politicking, especially when it involved him and his family. His name. With a barely restrained grumble, Varys raises to his feet without care to cover his modesty. Brushing the dust off of his flesh, he casts a look of silent disdain towards Bram.

They kept speaking of him as though he were nothing but an animal commodity. Admittedly, Varys would be willing to father a few offspring if it meant extended privileges and favor with his stubborn captor. He needed the leverage, and it wasn't as though he'd be expected to pay the children mind.

Unless he decided to of his own accord. There was a thought, wasn't it? Rebuilding the San'Seya bloodline...

He wondered how Hob would feel about children? Gah, what was he thinking. He'd deal with this whole 'breeding' thing if it came down to it. It was all rubbish anyways.

Reaching down to grasp the place, he held it to the side of his face, honeyed words spilling from his lips quietly against the smooth surface of the dinnerware. It all came so easy now... he remembered when he needed to converse for nearly an hour to make progress. He flings his arm up, throwing the plate towards Emelia.

It appeared as though he'd meant for an attack, but instead, the plate fell to the table right before striking her, spinning on its edge as though it were some extraordinary concave spinning toy. Eventually, it fell to its side before flipping back up, slowly flipping its way back down the table to Persian.

"Forgive the intrusion, Miss Emelia... but I thought you might like to know the table is making rather colorful remarks about you. You may wish to remove your elbows from it."

Jonathan Burr
 
Emelia stared at Varys coldly, hardly flinching as the plate rolled down the table toward her. She stood up silently, and eyed Persian. The slaver rose and bowed slightly to her. “If you would permit the use of Burr while he is here...? Forgive San’Seya, it has been less than a day. Pets usually don’t break so soon.” Persian said politely. He made a mental note to send over pets with new clothing...since Varys had just spattered food across the table. He didn’t know whether to wring the man’s ear or reward him. Persian had no love for the pinched woman sweeping out of the Centre Wheel.

He did relax when she had left, and the door closed. “You have got to learn some tact eventually, Varys.” He muttered. “Tomorrow morning, six in the morning, you’ll submit to me for pet training. Until then, your rooms are on the seventh door on the right. Water closet the third door. I am at the end of the hallway.”

He left to head back to his desk, settling into the leather chair with a heavy sigh and unrolling a large blueprint of the city. Specifically, what seemed to be the ventilation system. Pedeo was a combination of magic, alchemy, and steelwork. It took quite a lot of man hours to keep it running at all, let alone running smoothly.

Varys’ room was rather large. There was a soft bear fur on the floor to insulate one’s feet from the steel, a large chest of drawers, a water reservoir with a pitcher and spigot from which cool water could be drawn for drinking. It was upholstered in black, which outlined a familiar figure curled up in bed. A pair of long white ears flicked straight up at his arrival. Hob pushed herself up on her arms, looking hopefully around for Varys. She hated this city. She truly despised the feeling of cold iron everywhere around her...and most of her powers were sapped here. It left her feeling exhausted, like she hadn’t gotten enough sleep.

Hovering around the outskirts, she’d been steaming in rage. She’d heard wild rumors that Varys was dead, and had railed wildly against the city until it had let her in. Pedeo didn’t like her. It was a jealous, prickling feeling in the very walls and doors of the room. But by the gods, it had let her in. Surprisingly, Persian hadn’t immediately thrown her out on her ears. His pet, Kennedi, had instead led her upstairs to Varys’ room.

She’d paced, waiting for him to get out of whatever meeting he had with Persian...and had fallen asleep on the bed.

Varys San'Seya
 
He'd made his point to the annoying broad who so openly showed her ignorance, and he didn't mind being chastised too badly, especially not when he knew damn well and good Persian thought it as amusing as he did, even if the old man didn't show it. As an added bonus, he didn't have to hear another word from her lips as she turned and left.

He almost thought he'd get away without being chided for his stunt, but it wasn't to be. He groans, flipping his hair over his shoulder as he turns to De Soto. "I did as she asked, and I didn't harm anybody did I? If she wanted the plate emptied first, she really should have specified, right? That's on her." He protested. Pet training? He rolled his eyes but held his tongue. If it got him further along, he would allow it. De Soto seemed to busy himself with improvements to his city, only providing him directions to the bedroom.

He would have preferred to be provided some clothing, or perhaps his notes to look over. Instead, it seemed that at least for the night he was finished. Shrugging, the bare-skinned elf turns and pads down the hall to his room.

And what a room it was, the fur on the floor was a welcome addition, as were the drawers and reservoir. He didn't much care for the decor, but that had gone for the entire city so far. It was almost as if it was meant to look as though it was built on sin and greed.

His eyes weren't on any of the furniture or accommodations though. His eyes were on the white rabbit-like girl on his bed.

"Hob?"

Perhaps Persian had made good on his word to accommodate him, and allowed her inside? That was the only explanation he could think of, the only reason she would have been able to be here with him...

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob immediately threw off the covers and crossed the room in a few strides. She tackled Varys to the floor and kissed him, running her fingers through his hair. She’d been so worried! But gods, he was fine! He was alright! What had he been thinking? She sat up and slapped him, sharply. “Just what the hell were you thinking talking to an entire city?!” She demanded, and kissed him again. “You could have been lost. I could have lost you.” She squeezed him, ears back and tears in her large golden eyes. The thought of Varys rotting away, his brain locked in to Pedeo while his body was kept alive by magic, was too horrific to think about.

She finally let him breathe, sitting up and straddling him. “Where’s Jon? I can’t feel anything in this fucking iron can! My magic is dampened here. I can’t even go invisible.” She muttered, pulling an ear over her shoulder to mess with the velvety fur. She had the worst feeling in the pit of her stomach that they wouldn’t be leaving for a while. Not while Varys was held captive in the Centre Wheel. Even the Inner Wheel made her nervous.

“You’re not a pet are you? You don’t have a collar on?” She tilted his head back to check his neck. Satisfied with his bare throat, she kissed it and let him go.

Varys San'Seya
 
Varys still had been processing that Hob was even here when she tackled him to the ground. He fell into a heap on the ground beneath her, his confusion and concern melted away quite rapidly when she met his lips with her own, the sensation of her flesh against his had been something sorely missed, sorely needed for these last few days. His eyes, dilated and concerned, relaxed under her touch. The fingers running through his silvery hair causing him to tilt his head, his hands moving to her hips as he fights back a smile. "Love..." He mumbled to her.

He'd lived the last day as Varys San'Seya, but with Hob here in his arms where she most definitely belonged..?

He was just Varys, and he was all hers. If he closed his eyes, he could even imagine them in the back of the wagon, away from all of this... away from slavers and souls, away from The Prism and Bram. Even away from fireworks. Just him and the white rabbit...

That was what he wanted. More than anything else he just wanted to be happy with the one he loved. At peace.

If this was Persian's way of bartering for good behavior, he'd find a much more cooperative Varys in the morning...

Even the smack that she pulled away to deliver to his face failed to break his smile as he gazed up at the woman straddling his lap. He couldn't even form words to assuage her worry, only running his soft palms up the light fur of her body, his thumbs resting on her cheeks, softly brushing the tears away from her eyes. "No tears. I'm here..."

She was in a panic, even as she leaned over to kiss his neck. A pang of sadness hit his gut when he realized that he'd have to tell her everything. He'd have to tell her about Jonathan. About himself. He ran his hands softly over her ears, as he held her head to his shoulder, his voice little more than a warm hum as he attempts to soften the blow such news would deal. "Persian is keeping me as his own. He allowed me to avoid collars if I cooperate..." He sighs...

"He did something. Like what happened with me, soul transference. He wants me to help him fix his mistake, and if I do I believe he'll free me... I told him I wouldn't do it without you being allowed to see me." It almost made him feel guilty, admitting that he'd brought her into this... made her stuck here just like he was. He kisses her own neck lightly... "Bram has Jonathan... but we're working to keep him here. I have a plan to help him Hob. We won't lose him, I promise..."

He prayed she wouldn't notice the tears in his own eyes as he attempted to hide his face from her, keeping his lips at her neck. "It's... all my fault. I'm so sorry, Hob..."

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob couldn’t express in words how she felt to have Varys’ lips on hers again. Her men got into the stupidest situations, but gods she loved them both! Her heart swelled with Varys’ hands on her, the way he whispered to her. How he grasped her cheek and rubbed her tears away. She leaned into his touch, grasping his hand and kissing his fingers. She was his, and he was hers. Even here, with the iron around her making her little more than a helpless girl, she wouldn’t be anywhere else.

“I can’t feel you or Jon. I knew I wouldn’t because of the iron, but...when Jon didnt even send a letter outside...” she sniffed. She nuzzled into his shoulder, her arms around his body. She’d missed the touch of his bare skin, and a thought ran across her mind seeing him naked. “...That slaving bastard didn’t touch you did he? If he touched you I’ll turn him inside out magic or not!” Her ears pinned back, and her eyes flashed slits for a moment. Persian attempting to copy Varys’ father was almost worse!

“He what? Persian is fae but he’s not a Speaker or Changer! How did he even think he could do something like that? Even your father needed a focus!” She blinked. “Jonathan’s mother is here?! Emelia?!” What in the gods’ names had they stumbled into? She pulled back and kissed him, rubbing away his tears. “Shh. Don’t. I’m here now. This is where I belong; right here. With you. If I’m not allowed to cry neither are you.”

Her voice gentled and she kissed his lips, nuzzling his nose with hers. She smiled, and kissed down his chest a way. “I might have to claim you back.” She purred, and planted warm kisses down his stomach.

__________________

In the morning, the door opened. Persian cleared his throat, seeing Hob sprawled over Varys protectively. One lupine ear swiveled at him, and Hob raised her head from her lover’s chest. Her eyes widened to black and a nest of blackened teeth emerged from her mouth. Persian tightened his lips. “I am not here to harm Varys. I am here…” he set down a tray on the table next to the door. “…to deliver coffee. I want to remind him we have an appointment. And,” he laid down a pair of collars.

She stared at it. Iron. Thick iron. With runes. Her ears pinned back. “I can’t take risks with you, little one.” Persian warned.

Varys San'Seya
 
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The young Elf that woke up that morning was a different man than he who had attended the dinner that had taken place the night before. During his meal with De Soto and Bram, he'd been plagued by worry and anger at the situation he'd been placed in. And while he still very much was, the burden of that worry had been lessened now that he knew Hob was safe and that she was under his direct care.

If it had been an olive branch, it had been an effective one, and Hob's affectionate attention had soothed his woes quite considerably. In the grand scheme, he was still in a rather sticky spot, but he was more than willing to cooperate so long as Jon was ultimately not lost and Persian was willing to compromise. He was roused from his sleep as Hob shifted atop him, her bare form having kept his own quite warm through the night. Blinking the sleep from his eyes slowly, he shifted, mumbling something groggily as he sat up on his elbows, watching Persian present the collars. Varys peered over at Hob, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Mmh. Morning De Soto, Hob." He looked between them with a rather apprehensive expression; this could end badly, especially if Hob decided to make her anger with the man known. Instead, Varys interjected by leaning up to place a soft kiss upon the flesh of the Pooka's neck. "Do as he asks, love. We aren't in a position to fight him, and as long as I help him sort his mess out he has no reason to do anything to harm us." Persian wouldn't have brought Hob this far in to motivate Varys for one night and then discard her. She was an asset all her own now; an incentive for San'Seya to aid him.

He swings his legs off of the bed, gently lifting Hob off of him and laying her back on the bed as he stretched. "Yes, you mentioned obedience training or something of the sort, didn't you? Let's get it over with then. The sooner we get through that the sooner I can begin my work, and the sooner we can all pretend this never happened."

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob sat up and slid off Varys, arms folded. She glared at Persian. “Where is Jonathan?” She growled.

“Detained. I’ve done what I can to stall Bram. But I also may have a solution for you. There is little point in training you, San’Seya. I had a long think about this.” Persian told him. “If you can get Bram to put Jonathan in the Ring of Teeth, I can separate him from her. Delicately. She can’t be too offended, and you’ll have your tutor back. In the meantime, I’ll be hunting down your Prism…I can at least give you a solid location if I can’t fetch it outright.”

Hob pulled an ear over her shoulder, messing with the velvety fur while she thought. If she was still here then Jon was unconscious. Both Jon and Varys were in terrible trouble, but Varys had never been closer to touching the Prism and discovering his true power. Hob didn’t want either of them hurt. “Why help us?” She sneered at Persian, but strode over and put on the collar with an indignant snap of metal.

“Because I would rather have Varys as an ally if he can help my people. I recognize I can’t stand up to Bram outright if I want the city to survive. But I can try outwitting her.” Persian shrugged. “What do you think, Varys? Think you can get Jon to play dead and make it back here safely?”

Varys San'Seya
 
Varys went to pull his clothes on instinctively... before remembering he'd been deprived of any. A soft sigh leaves his lips. This was all becoming more of an annoyance than anything else; His life wasn't in danger, Jonathan would likely be just fine, and he at least had Hob at his side. Even Persian, as frightening as he'd once been to him, didn't have the same effect on him now that he'd adjusted. Instead, he smirked up at his 'employer'.

"Trying to find ways to screw over Emelia Bram? Mr. De Soto, the two of us might just get along yet." He chuckles and raises an eyebrow as Hob takes her collar without too much argument. He'd expected that to be harder, but he wasn't complaining. He shrugs, and sits back on the edge of the bed, crossing one of his legs over the other. "But what is this 'Ring of Teeth'? Doesn't much sound like a place you leave once you enter. Not that I'm not interested in your plan." He knew he wasn't in too much of a position to demand much, but if he was going to try and get Jonathan sent to some threatening sounding place, he wanted a little bit more information.

As for the prism, he wasn't expecting it to be a quick retrieval. The Sand Sea was massive, and while Persian had considerable means Varys doubted it was a simple task even for him. No, he needed to be reading his notes, examining the one he'd be working with. Legion, was it? "We can't rush into anything here, I haven't even taken a cursory glance at my notes yet, let alone Legion."

Jonathan Burr
 
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