Dima keeps Fae's hand wrapped tight whenever possible, and trails close behind him when the trail turns too ragged to keep hold. Always catching Fae's hand as soon as he is able. Trailed in every moment by the traces of his Faolan's embrace; how almost-simply it was given; how Fae sought safety at his throat, and how Faolan's form felt wrapped in Dima's arms.
As Fae speaks, Dmitri listens quietly, squeezing his Fae's hand now and again. Swallowing against a surge of guilt when Fae mentions Morovsk, teeth grit in anger at the revelation of what Faolan's mother did. (Used him - his gold - then kicked him aside when scandal reared too sharp, the same as every man had done. Turned him out in the very hour he needed support most.) (What the mother did was unconscionable. What Dima failed to do seems little better.) (If he'd spoken. If he'd cared a damn to look into his brother's asinine assertions at all and dissected the frail facade of scandal for what it truly was, he might have prevented the harshest brunt of Faolan's pain. Could have buried the whole matter, and spared Fae's name.) (Self-castigation's not for dwelling on right now; he feels the singe of guilt, but keeps it muffled to the background. There's nothing to be done for it just now. There's nothing to be changed.)
(And. And again, he thinks how fortunate he is to have the chance to know Fae now, and make certain he's protected. Happy. Safe.)
It's heartening, at least, that Fae found some measure of community and welcome in this words.
Doubly devastating, that the circle should have been so lost.
And the damage described doesn't make sense— Or. Of course such wreckage is possible, of course such wreckage happens. What's strange is the intensity, and how much more dire this is than scattered handfuls of skirmishers. An attack of this sort speaks coordination and strength. Speaks either senseless wastage or some larger scheme.
That everything, every living adult should have been destroyed. That animals were slaughtered, rather than stolen.
That every child could have disappeared.
(It's not not in line with what Dmitri's heard and seen of Striker's Bay.)
(It also doesn't seem entirely like coincidence - though of course it could be; could be only an attempt to draw chaos toward comprehension - that Gower's daughter and not-much-older sister were abducted, disappeared as well.)
When Faolan's fallen out of speech for the moment - after Sen put his wretched (not always so very wretched) nattering to use - and has granted Dima that grace of a smile, Dmitri presses his hand in kind, and speaks—
"You're learning very well, Puppy."
To speak of what's given him pain. To know that existence needn't all be peril and disappointment.
To stay, and hold tight to his Dima.
"And I'm proud of you, my Fae." If Fae's walking, Dima will tug his hand, a signal toward a halt. The better to draw nearer to Faolan. The better to offer a kiss to his cheek, and run a grateful, adoring hand along his bicep. "And it has been my greatest fortune to meet you."
While Dima speaks, Rin has kissed the back of Sen's hand, then drifted Sen an air kiss, then drifted into abstracted thought. There's something here that sounds familiar. Or there are several somethings, or definitely at least a few, and if they can't quite figure out what about the whole attack sounds maybe a little familiar, but does click into place is a cracked hall of old memories, old fears, stories that turned into shadows haunting the city they grew up in. It takes a few moments to place a name to the old story - the story they've never been convinced is only a story - and when the name hits, they blurt it immediately—
"Vytautus Rein!"
<.>
It's not Faolan who pulls to an abrupt halt when Rin blurts out the name. (Faolan is halted, but only because Dima drew him so and the pair are locked in yet another embrace, another sweet exchange meant only for their ears.)
It's Sen who stops. He'd been smiling softly, feeling the subtle burn of Rin's kiss to his hand, but that expression is replaced now by surprise bordering on alarm.
Not quite.
"Where did you hear that name?" he asks, his careful tone drawing Faolan's attention if only because of the recent issue with Sen and names.
"That another of your aliases?" he asks, drawing a sharp sh from Sen, whose eyes are still on Rin, filled with a worried sort of inquiry.
"Were you one of his, Pretty Rin?" It's clear from Sen's tone that he hopes that's not the case.
<.>
[q: has dima ever heard the name? ARC: 21 (with dm’s mercy to roll on The Right Die)
a: Dima suddenly - when he stops looking at Fae - recalls Vytautus Rein is a name he encountered in Novorometz. Though he never met this person, he knows Vytautus deals in body parts.
He also knows it's mostly adult bodies, but children's teeth are in high demand, as well, and Vytautus is a known and "trusted" supplier.]
Dima, having - yes, eventually - turned his sight from Fae, tenses in place, eyes now fixed on the thieves, his hand tightening minutely around Faolan's.
Rin's eyes are on Sen's only, and they think it isn't surprising Sen knows the name; doesn't he know an awful lot of things that most people miss? Doesn't he seem to know a lot about the same kinds of shadows they've crossed, however tangentially?
Seeing Sen's worry, they find themself growing wary, their tail wrapping around his legs. As if at once to show him that it's okay and they're right here, and to keep him away from a shadowed something.
They're shaking their head slowly, just a little; there's no drama in the gesture, and they set their hand at his elbow. Thinking this is just a final proof that the name always was real, and wasn't only shadows. Their brow furrows just slightly, and they speak, "I never was.
"It's only there were a lot of stories. And sometimes people— Sometimes kids disappeared." Which could've been anything; urchins who didn't stick together often became a kind of prey, easy to pick off by intent or accident.
"Where I lived, when I was... Mm, before I left the first time. You heard the name a lot, if you listened closely.
"There used to be a lot of stories and a lot of rumors, but they weren't all lies, right?" This time, the shake of their head is sharper. "I don't think this one was only a story. I never really did."
And, gently tugging Sen's elbow: "Sen. Are you all right?"
<.>
[fae roll: 14]
Fae is also listening close now, his eyes flickering from Dima to Rin as if to ask whether Dima knows what he knows. It's also beginning to occur to Fae that maybe they've each of them come from different corners of the same seedy past.
Sen smoothes Rin's hair and leans down to press a kiss to one of their horns, his smile tense. He senses that everyone is waiting on a reply from him - even Mykola appears to understand there's a heaviness to this conversation. He can feel it curling up in the back of his mind, present and listening without attempting imposition.
"I'm here with you. Nothing could be wrong, hm?" That's important. That's what he wants them to remember first and always. He - rather likes being with them and maybe calling them his own in a way that doesn't constrain them.
"You're right, of course. They weren't all lies, and he isn't only a story." He snorts and straightens, though his hand remains light through Rin's hair. "Fucking slaver is what he is."
Theres a general note of agreement from Fae, whose attention on Sen has become fixed, wondering, scrutinizing - wordlessly asking a question. Sen catches it and shakes his head. "No, not that. Not me. Though I'm given to understand I was one of the lucky ones. He only sold me; tall elven boys are in high demand on ships. We don't eat much, we don't need quite so much rest as others. Perfect for the crow's nest."
A look a of dim satisfaction passes across his face. "I really hope they beat their refund out of him when I liberated myself. I think I might have been expensive.”
<.>
(Rin thinks, briefly, but doesn't say - it doesn't need to be said, because it didn't happen, not to them - that if they'd been taken by the shadowed figure, there wouldn't be much Rin left today.)
Rin says instead, their eyes flaring deep flame, they voice unusually soft and steady, almost toneless: "Then we'll have to find him and kill him." A thought, a nod to themself as their eyes shift out of flame and they wrap their arms around Sen, holding perhaps a little too tight. "We can do that.
"Someone should have done it already."
If they bury their head against Sen's torso - careful not to jam to hard; they remember about their horns, even if they don't remember to loosen the grip of their hug - it's partly an attempt to comfort Sen, and partly a way to blink away the threaten of tears. (Vytautus Rein was real all along, and he had Sen, he's dealt with countless kids and dealt with Sen like goods and services, and there's a hiss between Rin's teeth that they don't try to hide.) Their tail twines around Sen's calf, and they say quietly—
"I'm glad you're here."
And, "I bet you fucked up a lot of them, didn't you?" They're looking up at him again, their eyes saying they're sure of it, and they believe very much in their Sen, and also, and also, that crow's nest and everything associated never should've happened in the first place. "Nothing wrong here, and nothing will be wrong again. I won't allow it." There's a sniff, a would-be-playful tossing of their hair.
And, giving Sen a soft nudge with their horns, "Mykola, aren't we glad Sen's here?
"I'm very glad."
Dima holds his hush for now, letting Rin and Sen have their say (it is, really, the least he can do just now), though the hand that brushes Fae's arm suggest acknowledgement alongside assurant presence; suggests that, yes, Dima knows— Or knows something of this matter, of this man.
The worried look he offers Faolan suggests questions yet to come. Of what Faolan himself knows, and how near he may have come to that knowledge.
The next caress along Fae's arm suggests that there's no rush toward questioning or knowing. And that Dima will be here, holding to his Fae, while Sen and Rin speak what they must.
no subject
As Fae speaks, Dmitri listens quietly, squeezing his Fae's hand now and again. Swallowing against a surge of guilt when Fae mentions Morovsk, teeth grit in anger at the revelation of what Faolan's mother did. (Used him - his gold - then kicked him aside when scandal reared too sharp, the same as every man had done. Turned him out in the very hour he needed support most.) (What the mother did was unconscionable. What Dima failed to do seems little better.) (If he'd spoken. If he'd cared a damn to look into his brother's asinine assertions at all and dissected the frail facade of scandal for what it truly was, he might have prevented the harshest brunt of Faolan's pain. Could have buried the whole matter, and spared Fae's name.) (Self-castigation's not for dwelling on right now; he feels the singe of guilt, but keeps it muffled to the background. There's nothing to be done for it just now. There's nothing to be changed.)
(And. And again, he thinks how fortunate he is to have the chance to know Fae now, and make certain he's protected. Happy. Safe.)
It's heartening, at least, that Fae found some measure of community and welcome in this words.
Doubly devastating, that the circle should have been so lost.
And the damage described doesn't make sense— Or. Of course such wreckage is possible, of course such wreckage happens. What's strange is the intensity, and how much more dire this is than scattered handfuls of skirmishers. An attack of this sort speaks coordination and strength. Speaks either senseless wastage or some larger scheme.
That everything, every living adult should have been destroyed. That animals were slaughtered, rather than stolen.
That every child could have disappeared.
(It's not not in line with what Dmitri's heard and seen of Striker's Bay.)
(It also doesn't seem entirely like coincidence - though of course it could be; could be only an attempt to draw chaos toward comprehension - that Gower's daughter and not-much-older sister were abducted, disappeared as well.)
When Faolan's fallen out of speech for the moment - after Sen put his wretched (not always so very wretched) nattering to use - and has granted Dima that grace of a smile, Dmitri presses his hand in kind, and speaks—
"You're learning very well, Puppy."
To speak of what's given him pain. To know that existence needn't all be peril and disappointment.
To stay, and hold tight to his Dima.
"And I'm proud of you, my Fae." If Fae's walking, Dima will tug his hand, a signal toward a halt. The better to draw nearer to Faolan. The better to offer a kiss to his cheek, and run a grateful, adoring hand along his bicep. "And it has been my greatest fortune to meet you."
While Dima speaks, Rin has kissed the back of Sen's hand, then drifted Sen an air kiss, then drifted into abstracted thought. There's something here that sounds familiar. Or there are several somethings, or definitely at least a few, and if they can't quite figure out what about the whole attack sounds maybe a little familiar, but does click into place is a cracked hall of old memories, old fears, stories that turned into shadows haunting the city they grew up in. It takes a few moments to place a name to the old story - the story they've never been convinced is only a story - and when the name hits, they blurt it immediately—
"Vytautus Rein!"
<.>
It's not Faolan who pulls to an abrupt halt when Rin blurts out the name. (Faolan is halted, but only because Dima drew him so and the pair are locked in yet another embrace, another sweet exchange meant only for their ears.)
It's Sen who stops. He'd been smiling softly, feeling the subtle burn of Rin's kiss to his hand, but that expression is replaced now by surprise bordering on alarm.
Not quite.
"Where did you hear that name?" he asks, his careful tone drawing Faolan's attention if only because of the recent issue with Sen and names.
"That another of your aliases?" he asks, drawing a sharp sh from Sen, whose eyes are still on Rin, filled with a worried sort of inquiry.
"Were you one of his, Pretty Rin?" It's clear from Sen's tone that he hopes that's not the case.
<.>
[q: has dima ever heard the name?
ARC: 21 (with dm’s mercy to roll on The Right Die)
a: Dima suddenly - when he stops looking at Fae - recalls Vytautus Rein is a name he encountered in Novorometz. Though he never met this person, he knows Vytautus deals in body parts.
He also knows it's mostly adult bodies, but children's teeth are in high demand, as well, and Vytautus is a known and "trusted" supplier.]
Dima, having - yes, eventually - turned his sight from Fae, tenses in place, eyes now fixed on the thieves, his hand tightening minutely around Faolan's.
Rin's eyes are on Sen's only, and they think it isn't surprising Sen knows the name; doesn't he know an awful lot of things that most people miss? Doesn't he seem to know a lot about the same kinds of shadows they've crossed, however tangentially?
Seeing Sen's worry, they find themself growing wary, their tail wrapping around his legs. As if at once to show him that it's okay and they're right here, and to keep him away from a shadowed something.
They're shaking their head slowly, just a little; there's no drama in the gesture, and they set their hand at his elbow. Thinking this is just a final proof that the name always was real, and wasn't only shadows. Their brow furrows just slightly, and they speak, "I never was.
"It's only there were a lot of stories. And sometimes people— Sometimes kids disappeared." Which could've been anything; urchins who didn't stick together often became a kind of prey, easy to pick off by intent or accident.
"Where I lived, when I was... Mm, before I left the first time. You heard the name a lot, if you listened closely.
"There used to be a lot of stories and a lot of rumors, but they weren't all lies, right?" This time, the shake of their head is sharper. "I don't think this one was only a story. I never really did."
And, gently tugging Sen's elbow: "Sen. Are you all right?"
<.>
[fae roll: 14]
Fae is also listening close now, his eyes flickering from Dima to Rin as if to ask whether Dima knows what he knows. It's also beginning to occur to Fae that maybe they've each of them come from different corners of the same seedy past.
Sen smoothes Rin's hair and leans down to press a kiss to one of their horns, his smile tense. He senses that everyone is waiting on a reply from him - even Mykola appears to understand there's a heaviness to this conversation. He can feel it curling up in the back of his mind, present and listening without attempting imposition.
"I'm here with you. Nothing could be wrong, hm?" That's important. That's what he wants them to remember first and always. He - rather likes being with them and maybe calling them his own in a way that doesn't constrain them.
"You're right, of course. They weren't all lies, and he isn't only a story." He snorts and straightens, though his hand remains light through Rin's hair. "Fucking slaver is what he is."
Theres a general note of agreement from Fae, whose attention on Sen has become fixed, wondering, scrutinizing - wordlessly asking a question. Sen catches it and shakes his head. "No, not that. Not me. Though I'm given to understand I was one of the lucky ones. He only sold me; tall elven boys are in high demand on ships. We don't eat much, we don't need quite so much rest as others. Perfect for the crow's nest."
A look a of dim satisfaction passes across his face. "I really hope they beat their refund out of him when I liberated myself. I think I might have been expensive.”
<.>
(Rin thinks, briefly, but doesn't say - it doesn't need to be said, because it didn't happen, not to them - that if they'd been taken by the shadowed figure, there wouldn't be much Rin left today.)
Rin says instead, their eyes flaring deep flame, they voice unusually soft and steady, almost toneless: "Then we'll have to find him and kill him." A thought, a nod to themself as their eyes shift out of flame and they wrap their arms around Sen, holding perhaps a little too tight. "We can do that.
"Someone should have done it already."
If they bury their head against Sen's torso - careful not to jam to hard; they remember about their horns, even if they don't remember to loosen the grip of their hug - it's partly an attempt to comfort Sen, and partly a way to blink away the threaten of tears. (Vytautus Rein was real all along, and he had Sen, he's dealt with countless kids and dealt with Sen like goods and services, and there's a hiss between Rin's teeth that they don't try to hide.) Their tail twines around Sen's calf, and they say quietly—
"I'm glad you're here."
And, "I bet you fucked up a lot of them, didn't you?" They're looking up at him again, their eyes saying they're sure of it, and they believe very much in their Sen, and also, and also, that crow's nest and everything associated never should've happened in the first place. "Nothing wrong here, and nothing will be wrong again. I won't allow it." There's a sniff, a would-be-playful tossing of their hair.
And, giving Sen a soft nudge with their horns, "Mykola, aren't we glad Sen's here?
"I'm very glad."
Dima holds his hush for now, letting Rin and Sen have their say (it is, really, the least he can do just now), though the hand that brushes Fae's arm suggest acknowledgement alongside assurant presence; suggests that, yes, Dima knows— Or knows something of this matter, of this man.
The worried look he offers Faolan suggests questions yet to come. Of what Faolan himself knows, and how near he may have come to that knowledge.
The next caress along Fae's arm suggests that there's no rush toward questioning or knowing. And that Dima will be here, holding to his Fae, while Sen and Rin speak what they must.
<.>