Orkhai, Interrupted

[Zilrud]

31st Frost 4622

With the many books with random fashion designs behind him, Zilrud had walked with Thomas, taking him up on his idea of walking around the shops they had yet to visit and window shopping. The term, of course, had to be explained again to the Orkhai. It was something he was not used to hearing. The notion behind it was known; Orkhai also looked at things without buying them. He’d never heard it in Common explained how Thomas had described it. Pausing at a few windows that had caught either Thomas’ attention or the Orkhai’s, even if it was something he was in disbelief that someone would wear and merely need to stare at it to try and understand it, even if he could not. As they were walking, though, something caught the Orkhai’s sight, and his gaze lingered in the direction off to the side, not in the path they were walking.

Pausing in his steps, his arm remained firm around Thomas, so when he stopped, Thomas would either get flung around if he tried to keep moving forward or stop with the Orkhai. Narrowing his gaze, he glanced down to Thomas, clearly thinking of something regarding the boy, and then back up. His sharper teeth clicked together as he looked and seemed to think internally. He finally decided to change course and directed Thomas toward a shop, guiding him alongside the larger body. “Something I need to look at over here.”

Walking Thomas toward a shop, the Orkhai did not stop at the window to look in. Instead, he walked the pair of them up to the door. Something he had seen with other people, especially in couplings, and mainly, the men did something he had not thought to do before. It had no practicality, but he was beginning to glean the truth for himself.

Upon arriving at the door, the arm finally unhooked from around the smaller of the two, and the hand reached out and tugged at the door with a grunt, and he stood there with the door open and stood to the side. Glancing down at Thomas, the Orkhai’s brow rose in question, and he nodded towards the open door for him to go first. Zilrud tried to imitate the gentlemanly notion of opening a door for someone else before entering it himself.

Once Thomas headed inside, the Orkhai grunted at anyone else who might have tried coming in behind Thomas or out of the opened the door to make Thomas wait, so he and the Griscian could enter the shop itself. Once they were in, they would be assaulted with the aroma of different plants, the earthiness of soil and dirt, and the colors of flowers sheltered from the harsher temperatures outside. It may be insulting, the logic that the Orkhai employed when heading into a flower/plant shop. Thomas was soft, smelt like he sometimes rolled in flowers, and was more delicate than Zilrud sometimes appreciated. Seeing a woman coming out with some flowers instantly reminded the Orkhai of Thomas and the fact the entire trip was dedicated, so far, to clothing Zil, nothing for Thomas aside from experience.

“You like flowers?”

The question could be applied to any of the plants in the shop; Zilrud would consider the majority of them flowers anyways if they had a stem that had a bud on it. Looking around, he didn’t know where to begin, so instead, he wandered towards a couple of darker red roses beside some whiter, slightly yellowed roses and looked between them. He knew flowers, even liked flowers. Mostly, he appreciated them back in Rokhan, where fields of flowers grew in the plains there. It was not the same, but at the moment, he was not looking for a reminder of Rokhan. He was remembering something else quite fondly, which was perhaps seen as he seemed to be lost in thought, looking to one of the white-ish roses that he lifted with a claw tip and sniffed it. Something quite delicate, an action Zilrud tended not to utilize very often except in certain circumstances.

[Thomas]

Thomas adored cities. For much of his life, it had been all he'd known, and the familiarity of them was part of it, but it was more than that. As an older man, all the people in them, the bustle, the activity of civilization writ large gave him a feeling of boundless potential. Maybe it was the Griscian in him; he'd grown up cynically mouthing along to the pledges to the pillars, but some of it had penetrated into his psyche. Urban centers, for all their muck, crime, grime, and corruption, teemed with life in a way that his estate in the country never managed.

Also, there were lots of opportunities to make money if one but kept their eyes open. Thomas noticed several opportunities to steal from shoppers who were not paying attention; Rienese people were not cautious about such things except in Nivenhaim, and the temptation to lift some jewelry or some intriguing wrapped gifts was present, but he mastered it. He had no need of such things, and he'd promised he wouldn't dishonor his husbands' names. Also, he was trying to be better, for all the good it was doing him, to not take advantage of the naivete of those around him as he himself had been taken advantage of.

So instead, he walked around town with ZIlrud, gawking at some of the more outlandish fashions, not bothering to hide his delight by the occasional street entertainer or finely crafted tchotchke. It was fun to walk around like this, protected by virtue of his rank, his fine clothes, and the man the unwise might mistake for his bodyguard.

The flower shop caught his eye immediately. He was all too happy to head in with the orkhai. While Zilrud sniffed the roses, Thomas looked around at what they had and was pleased to see several of the staples that graced Griscian parlors. His understanding was that many of them were from Vividim, Kisei, or Khadai, originally, but they thrived inside with enough light and heat all the same. The Rienese seemed to prefer the plants that had been adapted to Von Rabe's eternal chill, but seeing the plants that reminded him of some gentler times at home brought a smile to his face. Did he like plants?

"You could say I do, I suppose," he replied, a gentle smile gracing his face. "There's something attractive about something being so alive, and it's extra nice to see somewhere so green in Lorien. Kastren gets downright lush in the warmer months compared to the other regions, but it's not the same as parts of Grisic that are far more verdant. Not that I lived in those places, mind you."

He shook his head at himself. "I grew up in Starkwayte. It was dark, cold, and choked through with stone and glass. Plants were rare, even weeds. I always liked them, though. What about you? I saw you with the roses. Do they remind you of something?"

[Zilrud]

Zilrud had noticed the Griscian’s eyes flicking this way and that when they had been walking. Thomas had spoken a little of his past but not too much so the Orkhai could predict his thoughts. Regardless, Zilrud was inwardly happy as he saw Thomas’s face light up when he had steered them toward the plant/flower shop. Hearing Thomas’ answer, the Orkhai paused his smelling of the roses and turned toward Thomas and instead rejoined him at his side as he looked at the various plants and flowers available in the shop.

“When it warms, we can go to Kastren.” Zilrud would enjoy being immersed in verdant flora, especially if nature didn’t cover it in snow, and he could actually be in it to enjoy it. As Thomas continued to speak about the plants and his enjoyment of them, Zilrud’s wandering red gaze took in what plants were there. They were all… Plants. He wasn’t very much about the flowery plants but could identify some wild herbs that could be useful when out on his own. “You are a strange one, Little One. You want to be around people. But like things like this and places that are green.” It was intriguing to learn more about Thomas. He could only nod when he spoke of specifics of Grisic; Zilrud had never been, though he had at least heard of Grisic before meeting Thomas.

“Hm?” Zilrud gave the questioning noise as he looked over his shoulder to the roses. Staring fondly at them, the Orkhai turned and tilted his head to regard Thomas as he spoke. “They remind me of someone I had once met. I did not know him very long. Human, like you, stronger than I thought in the beginning, like you.” Taking a deep breath, he lifted his gaze and looked at a random plant. His Orkish nostrils flared as he let out a breath. “His hair smelt flowery, like yours.” Zilrud wasn’t doing an excellent job of comparing the two other than saying this other guy was pretty much like Thomas. “He was kind, nicer than most I had met. Helped me through a tough time.” His voice trailed off in memory for a moment. Lost in silence, he tilted his head back and looked at Thomas, and continued,

“He invited me to this odd contraption that he called a bath, and eventually, he found his way back to me after I hurt him. And then I introduced him to my bed.”

Zilrud attempted to be kind in a roundabout way that could be construed as flirting. He had been talking about Thomas, as he was the one Zilrud saw when he saw the flowers.

“You are much like these plants. Taken from their home and given a place to stay. Nobody stays around; nobody stays in the same pot. You do not belong in the cold and are dainty, delicate, and soft. But even a foolish Orkhai needs to be careful of your thorns. You need someone to be with your pot, so the cold does not kill you. You do not deserve to be alone, much like these plants do not deserve to stay out of nature’s care for too long.”

He paused and cleared his throat, not looking at Thomas and staring down a poor plant that did not deserve the intensity of the red stare it was receiving.

“...I would like to learn… To take care of the plant.”

Blinking his eyes closed and almost wincing.

“Er, of you.”

The darker brows knitted together and tried to screw up the Orkhai’s face as he looked up, feeling stupid trying to speak like someone not used to tearing meat with his teeth and snapping necks. He was uncomfortable but had been wanting to try. And a shop that nobody was poking and prodding at him, and nobody who would know him or Thomas, was the perfect place to try… Except the Orkhai was feeling a heat starting at the base of his neck that he was trying to stave off.

[Thomas]

Thomas was no stranger to flirting. Quite the contrary; he'd spent no few years of his life charming people into thinking they were in love with him so that he could have a place to stay, a warm bed, and some hot food. If they had small valuables they wouldn't miss, all the better. That was business.

There were also the men and women in his life that made his heart beat faster. Those he charmed, too, but not with the purpose of sex for sex's sake. He liked them and wanted them to like him back. He'd done that with Taelian when they'd first met, only to have love tap him on the shoulder. He had a regrettably large heart, and if someone were admirable enough, he would develop feelings for them.

This was neither of those things. This was something else entirely.

Thomas had been fascinated by Zilrud from the beginning, and the more he spent time with the orkhai, the more he felt drawn to him. It seemed the feeling was mutual. He would have scoffed a bit had a Griscian nobleman or a Rienese academic been so coarse with their choice of metaphor, but somehow Thomas doubted that poetry was a primary preoccupation in Zilrud's education, and so he took it for what it was: Zilrud's version of his halting attempts to split a log or whittle a quarterstaff.

"Well, it's true that roses are a tough flower," Thomas replied. "I'm no gardener, so you'll forgive me my lack of expertise, but I can tell you what I know. They're susceptible to blights that are incurable once they've taken hold -- neglect them, and they're never the same afterward. Too much cold and they'll freeze, down to their roots. They can't come back from that. Too much warmth and they'll wilt, but they usually recover. The blooms can make the unwary forget about the thorns. The smart gardener minds both as he tends to them. And lastly, a lesser known thing about roses is that they bear fruit, of a kind: rosehips. You can make tea with them, or jam. I used to use them to make medicine."

Thomas remembered being taught to use rosehips and smiled at the thought. His teacher hadn't been the best man in the world, but that particular day had been a pleasant one.

"I love roses, myself. They are a bit cliche to the very jaded, but to me they're beautiful and classic. They are pleasing as buds or blooms, they come in a variety of beautiful colors, and they often have an alluring smell to them. Do you see a flower in the shop that calls to you, Zilrud? One that reminds you of you?"

Thomas was curious to see if the man would see himself as a flower, too, or if he'd answer that he was something else entirely.

[Zilrud]

Zilrud was happy with the idea of equating a rose to Thomas and that Thomas had told him he loved them. When he said they were cliche, at first, he did not know the meaning of the word, but as he explained the idea of why he loved them and how delicate they were, he felt more knowledgeable of what cliche meant at the very least. The mention of the alluring smell reminded Zilrud of the first time he had smelt Thomas. Perhaps it wasn’t a memory many others were fond of, but Zilrud was a more practical person. What he could see, feel, hear, and touch made a more significant impact than things he could feel that were intangible.

When Thomas turned the question around, Zilrud froze. He had not been expecting Thomas to ask something like that. Was there a flower that Thomas had seen that reminded him of Zilrud? Or was he asking Zilrud to apply the same reasoning to himself that he used to Thomas? Raising a hand, he scratched into the black mane of hair on his head, and his red-eyed gaze scanned the flowers and plants he could see.

“I am more of a rock. Rough, everyone passes by it, and nobody bothers with it.”

Zilrud wasn’t speaking from a place of depression or low self-worth. He was speaking matter-of-factly. Orkhai had a place in some societies, but most either ignored them or pretended they did not exist so they would not have a chance to enrage them. Those were his experiences with other people and had formed an opinion within him. Though, as he scanned the shop, he caught sight of something that stood out to him. Lingering on it for a moment, the Orkhai pulled away from Thomas, meandered toward the flower, and stopped before it.

The plant was an odd plant indeed. It was unlike one he had ever seen before. If anything, in what he could compare it to, it looked like a weed. The stalk and stem started off a deep green color and bled into a bluish hue. The leaves were pointed like some weed leaves he had seen. Each stalk was thick and led up to a not-so-pretty flower, perhaps the reason the plant was by itself. Spine-like leaves blossomed outward, and at the center were thistle-like flowers, starting in green that ended in whiteish-blue colorings. It looked dangerous and bizarre, but objectively it was pretty. At least to the Orkhai, it had its beauty in its weirdness and unpleasant look compared to a rose or tulip.

Looking in Thomas’ direction, a single thick finger pointed to the plant/flower that had caught his attention.

“This one.”

Zilrud had no idea what it was, nor if it was even a deadly or poisonous plant. It just stood out to him. It was ugly compared to some flowers, but its merits made it stand out amongst everything else. And Zilrud, for as much as sometimes he would like to think he did not, stood out of the crowd, regardless of any attempt of blending in.

[Thomas]

Thomas was unsurprised but a bit disappointed that Zilrud saw himself as a world apart. He didn't want to correct the man, though; not on something so personal. If Zilrud wanted to be mineral rather than vegetable, Thomas would not quarrel with him on this front. It was more the lack of specificity that plagued him about the choice. Zilrud wasn't a rock any more than Thomas was a flower, but if Thomas were to be a flower, he'd be a rose. Zilrud deserved that level of thought put into himself.

Thomas was pleased by the choice, though he was not familiar with the plant. It reminded him of some of the spinier thistles he'd picked in Daravin while wearing gloves, but he was not an expert on plant identification by any means. He knew enough that just because something looked to be related to the untrained eye did not make it so. Just like two mushrooms could be quite similar looking except one could end up being deadly while the other was edible or of good use as a mordant, so two could two plants look identical to him but allegedly be wholly unrelated to one another.

"I can't say I'm familiar with this plant, but I love the look of it," he said, looking approvingly at Zilrud. He hoped it was clear he was not just speaking of the man's choice in plant but the man himself. "I think it has a noble bearing and excellent coloration. I think it may be a bit intimidating to care for something to gardeners who are unfamiliar with it, but it's worth taking the time to understand it."

"As for your being a rock, I disagree. An unpolished gem, perhaps. Something that some may not see the potential in, but more fool them. All it takes is the right setting and a lapidary and this ignored rock seems to light up from within." He had not been nearly so flowery when discussing Zilrud before because he was unsure how it would be received, but since the man had done it for him, it seemed only fair to return the favor.

[Zilrud]

A rock had been the Orkhai’s choice for a reason. Thomas knew of Zilrud’s connection with the element of earth. Still, the Zilrud had not openly spoken or practiced Divide regarding Divide and had not readily explored it in the Griscian’s presence. The main reason for that had been the Orkhai mending, and he knew better than to push himself with magic when his body was not ready to endure the stress of developing techniques and the manipulation of ether. With none of that spoken, he understood Thomas’ point of view regarding the rock. What caught the Orkhai off guard was how Thomas took his notions of a plant similar to the one he had pointed out and melded it with the idea of what an unpolished gem meant in terms of Zilrud.

Watching the plant, studying it as Thomas spoke of it, then the unpolished gem example, Zilrud’s eyes could not leave it. Thomas had made Zilrud understand there were certain limits to social acceptance and that regardless of what Zilrud felt, people’s opinions and whispers still mattered where Thomas’ name had some weight to it, one way or the other.

A man of little words, Zilrud began to turn away from Thomas. He would leave the flowery words behind and take the words Thomas had offered him with a grain of salt. Taking a single step away from the Griscian, the Orkhai froze, staring at the furthest wall possible. It was almost as if an unseen force had frozen the large-sized man. Silent, unmoving, and seemingly unbreathing, Zilrud was forced into a moment he had not expected to face.

If it had been any other day, Zilrud would have shrugged it off, grunted, or said something short and almost insulting-sounding, but he didn’t. He was merely going to leave the compliments that Thomas had offered him to die in the air without reciprocation or showing any sign of receiving his message. Something had changed, though. Something recently and the fact he could feel Thomas behind him, able to anticipate what his face was going to turn to, predict what the human was going to feel by leaving him alone played across Zilrud’s mind in that split-second. He could not finish stepping away from him.

A solid realization had solidified itself to Zilrud. Turning, he placed his feet together, and the Orkhai looked at the nearby wall. It was welling up inside of him, and it had happened once before with Thomas. The heat was rising in his body, his eyes were growing a brighter red, and the saliva in his mouth grew more copious in abundance. The time this had happened before, Thomas wound up needing medical attention. What was different was that the Orkhai’s eyes were focused on something else in front of him, but that was short-lived as the green beast of a man’s head snapped to look at Thomas.

In an instant, the man’s head snapped, viscosity in the Orkhai’s neck popped loudly, and the clawed hand gripped the free fabric in front of Thomas at his shirt and coat and pulled him closer. As the Orkhai’s bicep and forearm flexed and bulged against the material of his clothing, Thomas’ body was lifted from the ground and moved until his back was against the closest wall and Zilrud had stepped forward enough to step between the Griscian’s legs. This action would seat Thomas between the wall and the front of Zilrud’s’ hips.

The hand that had been holding at Thomas’ front with the clothing bunched up had released the clothes and instead moved to slide his hand underneath both Thomas’ coat and shirt and lifted the material, briefly exposing the younger male’s abdomen and flank as the more significant green hand flattened against his torso’s flesh and pressed the pads of his fingers and his palm flush against the warm human body. The Orkhai’s head leaned closer to Thomas’. The glaring, almost bestial gaze of the Orkhai’s glowing eyes fixated on Thomas’ own. He remained in that pose for a significant amount of time, a low, rumbling growl rolling from deep within his throat as Zilrud allowed himself a moment, frozen in time with Thomas.

“I am not good at this.”

A glance was given to the nearby plants and flowers and perhaps to those nearby who might have been looking or had noticed the change in the Orkhai’s demeanor yet.

“I am not… This is not…”

Zilrud could feel his speech slipping, and he wanted to fall to broken Common, but he had made it a point to practice and not remain in that same rut. The struggle could be seen for a brief moment on his face.

“You are not good for Orkhai. Too soft. Too many clothes. Too many people. Too many rules.”

Gnashing his sharper teeth at the air between them, the Orkhai jerked his head to the side, a tusk narrowly missing in nicking Thomas’s chin as he looked away momentarily. What he was trying to say was not coming out properly.

Turning his head back with a defeated look, his eyes fell momentarily, and he spoke quietly. At a rare moment, the Orkhai looked unsure of what he was saying.

“I do not want to go back to Rokhan… Without you. If it means I have to stay, then I stay. I…”

He wanted to say more about the situation, but something else was at the forefront he had to admit to the human before he would toss it aside like a useless piece of scrap metal.

“You stood up for me… And for you… To that woman.”

Zilrud was sure that the shopkeep had mentioned her name at some point, but he didn’t care much for names for people who had no importance to him.

“Watching you do that… Put her in her place… It was…”

He didn’t know the word to describe it. Remembering the thought, the Orkhai’s thicker lower lip caught between teeth, snagged near a tusk as he looked off to the side, remembering it.

Instead, there was just a loud growling, and the sharp teeth released the lip.

“...Thank you.”

The first time Zilrud uttered the phrase of thanks was not a nod or grunt or some other form of approval or gratitude. And rather than keep talking like an insane creature with no filter, the Orkhai leaned in and captured Thomas’ mouth with his own, kissing him, cautious of the tusks, but only enough that he wouldn’t make Thomas bleed.

[Thomas]

Thomas was accustomed to being manhandled by Zilrud. The orkhai was large and physically demonstrative. He pulled Thomas in closer or got in front of him if ther ewas a perceived threat or put an arm around him to steady him fairly frequently. It was still a shock, though, for it to be done in public. Thomas did not come from a culture where people touched one another, and two men being close to one another could go from societally acceptable to dangerous quickly.

He was not at home, though. He was in Lorien, and he had rank and title to insulate him. They could not insulate him from the chill of Zilrud's hand on his skin. The orkhai couldn't feel the cold on his bare hand, or perhaps he could but didn't mind, but to Thomas it was a shock akin to the cold plunge in high end bath houses. He gasped, both from the sensation and the surprise that Zilrud was doing it.

Before Thomas had a chance to say anything, Zilrud spoke.

Ah.

Zilrud was in love. Maybe the man didn't put it that way, but that's what this was. Thomas came from a culture where reading between the lines was all but required, and it did not take superhuman inference to see what the orkhai was getting at. He let Zilrud finish, and was delighted that it involved a kiss. The lushness of the plants everywhere lent the kiss a fairy tale quality that he rather liked, and it also provided a bit of cover from prying eyes. When the orkhai pulled back, Thomas was ready with a response.

"I don't wish to be parted from you, either. If you wish to go to Rokhan, we will go to Rokhan. Together. If you wish to stay in Lorien, we will remain here. If you wish to go somewhere else, we can do that, too. I've been to many places apart from here: Grisic, Khadai, Kisei, Daravin, and Radenor. If you wish to explore, we can. There's any number of things we can do together that don't involve being shut up on the estate."

"So I guess my question is: what do you want to do? Do you want to go home to Rokhan, or see the world, or something else entirely? My wagon may be a bit cramped with the two of us in it, but I'd enjoy getting it on the road again."

[Zilrud]

Life had been set for the Orkhai for many years. If he ever found himself away from his captors, he wanted to go to Rokhan. Repent for his weakness and earn his place back in the ranks of the warriors of Rokhan to regain the glory he’d had in his youth as a warrior. In those days, nobody thought twice about getting in his way. They either submitted or lost their life. Zilrud had been on that path, working his way through the snows of Lorien, until he had a fateful encounter with a wild boar larger and more fierce than any the Orkhai had faced in his past.

Those events had led to the mountain of green muscle nearly losing his life. And whether it was due to the divine intervention of Jaxkael or some other driving force, he had met Thomas. At first, he was annoyed with Thomas. He was flowery, spoke too much, used too many words, and always tried to change him for what was acceptable in his version of society. Zilrud had chosen to leave once time had mended him to return to his journey. Out of respect for the hospitality, he would allow Thomas to accompany him to Lorien’s borders before he ventured off, leaving him behind.

But then they chopped wood together. Thomas taught him the importance of tea and annoyingly sweet little confections. And even though Thomas hated it or couldn’t get the hang of it, whittling was not in his wheelhouse of skills. Those events and then some had led Zilrud to postpone his departure from the estate. And although he was growling and grunting at what few living staff worked on the grounds at Thomas’ home, the Orkhai found himself unable to leave. Each time he had planned to, something had held him back.

Until the present day’s events had unfolded, there was no hiding the annoyance for the Orkhai’s need to go through the process of being measured for clothing and learning to wear clothes appropriately. Lorien was not the kind of place one could wear a loin cloth and boots and be considered acceptable. The Orkhai had suffered the looks of disgust, astonishment, and disbelief from the mixture of passersby, shopkeeps, and customers. Regardless, Thomas remained at his side, keeping a smile on his face, and still forged forward. Thomas was not interested in what the others were potentially thinking, saying, or even openly expressing. He was there to spend time with Zilrud, and the Orkhai had not seen it in its earnest until the last shop they were in.

This, combined with Thomas’ words within the flower shop, and something had snapped or clicked in the back of the Orkhai’s mind. With Thomas in a precarious position and the Orkhai responsible for it, he held it, not moving, the red gaze remaining on Thomas’ as he asked him what he wanted to do. Thomas should have known the Orkhai was a simple man, did not want complexity, and was too old and perhaps weathered to play life’s games. He did not have anything philosophical, nor did he have anything romantic to say.

“I want to take you home and pin you down. I want to unwrap you like one of these gifts these people are buying for one another. And I want to have my Little One, selfishly to myself.”

His free hand, which was not holding to the warmth of Thomas’ abdomen, lifted his thick-fingered hand to press to the softer skin of the human’s jaw and stroked the pad of his thumb over Thomas’ lower lip.

“We can figure out the rest later.”

Zilrud had no intention of making long-term plans aside from including Thomas in some fashion. He did not know if he was in love, but he was feeling something. Something that he had not felt in many years. Stroking the pad of his thumb from one corner of the lower lip, across the plumper flesh of the middle to the other side, the Orkhai posted his final question to Thomas.

“Did you want to keep looking or go?”

[Thomas]

Thomas tried to keep his expression from one of unrestrained delight, but if there was anyone around who was paying attention, it was not immediately apparent, so he grinned and nodded back at Zilrud.

"Not exactly what I meant, Zilrud, but I'm quite happy to cut our shopping trip short and return to the townhouse. No reason to prolong the trip when we have urgent business to attend to at home."

He pulled back from the other man and carefully put his clothes back in place. Zilrud's claws had nicked a hole in his button-up shirt; an occupational hazard that would see all of his clothes be more rag than cloth in a few seasons at this rate. The man was impossible, and if circumstances were different, Thomas would have been appalled at his apparent decision. Zilrud was crass, uncivilized, and brutish. If Thomas were still interested in a nice life in a nice house with a titled gentlemen, he was exactly the sort of trouble Thomas should avoid.

Thomas, however, was no longer interested in any of that. Zilrud was right. He was not well suited to it. He was comfortable in his manner and his marriage, but he was not happy. After being uncomfortable for so long, it was easy to mistake security for happiness, but they were not the same, and over the last few seasons, he had started to feel as though he were locked in the estate's ornamental walls. It was, perhaps, time to change that.

Not before the check came due for Zilrud's new wardrobe, though, and not before negotiating what the future might look like with Wendell. Thomas had some ideas in mind for that he thought his politically savvy, well-connected spouse might go for, but that was in the mid-future. In the near future, he put his hand in Zilrud's and exited the plan store, pleased about what would transpire when they had some privacy.