Something Bad, Down Deep

[Thomas]

10th Glade, 4623

Thomas did not look forward to his job of administration the estate. He was unsure anyone could enjoy such activities. Still, it was his duty oversee things, to administrate, to add sums, and to clerk, so he did.

At the end of Frost he'd insisted that he assist Wendell with their taxes to the crown, and to his surprise his husband had actually relented and given him a stack of records to reconcile. He'd found some minor mistakes to rectify, all his, but nothing half as bad as when he'd mixed up the ledger for a spell and written in credits as debits and vice versa for fifteen solid minutes. He'd only discovered the issue because he spilled tea all over his account book and then had to go through and re-transcribe. Wendell had berated him for that pretty badly, and it hadn't even led to angry sex, so he'd actually been disappointed. After that incident, Thomas had tried harder, and to his dismay found that he was actually decent at the work despite how utterly dull he found it.

Still, as boring as the accounts were, his least favorite part was handling correspondence. He didn't receive anything, really, or almost never. Mostly, it was for Wendell, or Taelian, or any head of household. Thomas took care of his gallivanting husband's mail to the best of his ability, and also handled stuff that wasn't directly addressed to Wendell. It was rarely fun.

This, for example, was grisly. A request for a widow's sum to be paid out to a mine worker who had been killed in some kind of accident or injury in one of their loranium holdings. Thomas imagined her husband trapped in a cave in, gasping for air as his lips turned blue and shuddered. Ghastly work, that.

He almost just signed along the line when he saw something odd: the man's body had not been recovered. So how could they be sure he was dead? He wasn't even thirty and he'd faked his own death half a dozen times. While he was sympathetic to the widow wanting her due, with no proof of death, it seemed a bit premature. So he started looking in to the other correspondence from the mine and he understood why the request had been made. This man was the third to go missing from his post in as many months. The other two had been found, or pieces of them, but no trace of the third was located at all. It wasn't impossible that he'd killed the other two and then absconded, Thomas supposed, but that seemed a pretty gruesome and calculated way to fake one's own death. He could have just saved up money and skipped town; Lorien took good care of its citizens, so none of these people actually had to work if they did not feel called to do so.

Still, something about this was concerning. If something was killing workers in the mines, then... he scanned the operating ledger of the shaft where they'd been assigned, and sure enough, the property damage overhead was immense, five times that of comparable holdings. "Property damage" likely meant that Hollows were being attacked too.

This tugged on his heartstrings in a way that a human being dead didn't. People died all the time, but they were avenged, mourned, and remembered. Hollows did and the Rienese shrugged. As a Nameless, he'd been in a similar position.

So it was that he told Wendell he planned to personally investigate this issue, ostensibly to see about paying out the widow's sum. They both knew there was more to it than that, and that the real reason Thomas had chosen to do this was something that Wendell likely found baffling and infuriating, but they also knew now to bring it up. Why ruin a decent day by having an argument that would go nowhere?

So instead, Thomas went in search of Zilrud to tell him the good news: he was going on a journey to the North, and would love some company on the road.

[Zilrud]

It had been over a week since a turning point had been reached in the friendship between Thomas and Zilrud. Between the shopping and the events that came after, to the point the two had sat down and had a relatively serious conversation about certain things and predicaments, Zilrud had chosen to remain with Thomas and, by proxy, the grump man, Wendell. He was grouchier than Zilrud, and Zilrud never smiled. That point aside, Zilrud had received the clothes that Thomas had helped him shop for, and he had griped about getting them, but deep down, he was interested to see what the fuss was about with them overall. So when they had arrived, he had stashed them away to look through when he had both the patience and no distractions. Today had been one of those days, as Thomas had been busy consulting with Wendell or doing paperwork, none of which was Zilrud's forte. He was much more a physical creature capable of more physical tasks. Except for today, he was not out completing physical tasks because as Thomas went in search of him, he would not have to go far. In fact, when Thomas's head poked into his room, the Orkhai was seated on the edge of his bed, thick, Orkish tongue stuck between his teeth as he was focused on pulling on and fastening the last boot he was going to try on. So when the door opened, and Thomas's head poked in, the Orkhai froze, and his eyes widened.

Lifting his red-eyed gaze from the boot, he looked up to see Thomas and stood straight up, quickly retracting his tongue into his mouth, and it was evident he had not just been trying on the boots. When he stood, he wore a pair of simple, thicker-lined trousers that were a bit snug around the bulk of his muscle but fit quite well, even though he had to figure out a belt to keep his pants from falling down his muscular hips. The pants were a dark brown in color, and he wore a simple black dyed v-neck wool shirt, long-sleeved, that showed the tip of the line of muscle in his pecs to where his Mark of Control began. Over that laid a black leather jacket that fit quite well over his frame. Lastly were the boots that came partway up his legs and ended around his calves. Roomy enough to make room for his bulk of muscle, but also capable of relaxing and contracting when needed.

Looking as if he had been caught doing something he should not have been, he cleared his throat and looked to the other clothes that lay haphazardly on the bed in a pile, ones he had already been through. A glance from them to Thomas and he decided to draw the attention away from himself. "What is it, son?"

[Thomas]

If anything could distract Thomas from something serious, it was something frivolous.

He hadn't seen Zilrud in his new clothes yet. When they'd arrived, he had hinted that now would be a good time to try them on and ensure they were a good fit, but Zilrud had said he would do it when he was ready, and Thomas felt that was a point worth respecting. Years of being a valet meant he was quite attuned to the intricacies of putting on fine gentleman's clothing, and years in other professions meant he was quite good at taking them off, though that was not relevant at present. Zilrud had wanted to do it alone so he could practice, Thomas surmised.

"Well, first and perhaps more importantly, those clothes look very well on you," Thomas said.

It wasn't a lie. They were a bit snug for Zilrud's taste, perhaps, but clothing for upper class men was supposed to be fitted. It showed off the form and showed off that one could afford a skilled tailor in equal measure. Most people in Lorien could afford the latter, but few could boast of having a body like Zilrud's; reading books and making art did not build up the body like fighting in an arena.

"I used to be a valet, you know -- like a lady's maid, but for upper class men," he clarified when he realized that ZIlrud would have no real reason to know what a valet was. "So a big part of my job was to keep gentlemen company, arrange travel, get them up in the morning, and get them dressed for their engagements. If you want assistance with your wardrobe, please just let me know. Especially if it's for a social occasion and you want to make sure you look your best."

He had come in here for a reason, though, and it wasn't to talk about clothes. His eyes flicked over Zilrud's outfit, trying to recall what it had been. Now he was thinking about clothes instead of whatever it was-- ah, right.

"One of the holdings that we own a claim to is a loranium mine. When I was looking over the expenses for the mine, it is far out of line with how much it should cost. Worryingly, two mine workers have been found dead, and a third is missing, as well. I talked it over with Wendell, and I think it best to go there in person and get to the bottom of what's going on. I would really like it if you'd accompany me. I don't know what we'll find there, but if nothing else, it might be nice to get off the estate for a while. What do you think?"

[Zilrud]

The worst part of it all is that most people had practiced putting on clothing as a child. Zilrud's idea of clothing did not match that of Lorien; that much he knew. Not only had he wanted to practice putting them on, but he wanted to know what it felt like, how these new garments felt on his body. He had chosen to do it alone because it would have proven challenging to wear the clothing with Thomas's presence for many reasons. The mention of a valet had the Orkhai's brows knitting in confusion as Thomas was correct. Zilrud had no idea what a valet was or that people needed others for things like that. "Why do people lose the ability to do things on their own once they get money?" He never understood it. Men had others fight for them if they had money. They had others do their paperwork for them. And now, Thomas was enlightening the Orkhai that men had others do basic everyday things for them because they had money. It did not make sense, so Zilrud made the following comment. "Thank you, Little One. But if I am calling you for help when I am dealing with clothes, it is not to help me put them on."

As the dark brows unknit from their earlier confusion, the Orkhai listened to the other as he spoke of people being found dead, and it was a joint thing between Thomas and Zilrud, assumed his other husbands. Sometimes when Thomas talked about his husbands, Zilrud's attention faltered, and it began to until he heard that Thomas was the one that was going to be going to investigate rather than Wendell or his other husband. Grunting in dissatisfaction, he snapped his head back to looking towards Thomas, and the red-eyed Orkhai studied his face and gave him a once over. "Finding something there or not, I am not letting you go alone. If men are dying, you could die. I am not allowing that to happen." And that was that. Thomas was not going to get an eloquent answer, nor was Zilrud going to try and figure out the logistics of reasoning for anything. His mind had absolutely no doubt that he would accompany his lover. It was, as Thomas put it, if there was indeed something there, it would be good to have Zilrud there to help quash the situation. If it were a wild goose chase, then at least Zilrud and Thomas would get away from the estate for a little while and do something together.

Turning his head to take in the clothes and anything else he might need, he looked back to Thomas with a perked brow. "When do we leave, Little One?"

[Thomas]

At this point in their acquaintance, Thomas sometimes told Zilrud about how rich people lived just because the man's confusion and contempt amused him. Not because he found it quaint or backwards; quite the opposite. Zilrud had a point. Still, he felt obliged to stick up for his former profession.

"There are a few reasons to have a valet if you are wealthy enough to retain one. The first is that clothes for special occasion worn by the wealthy require special care and maintenance that is time-consuming and costly. When you have many possessions and want to keep them looking good, that in and of itself is a full time occupation if you don't have help. The second is that, because the wealthy don't have so much to do, they care about appearances a great deal. Things like missing a button when you get dressed or lacing your boots incorrectly will be noticed and remarked upon behind your back. It's important to maintain one's wardrobe and keep up the appearance of effortless abundance, or people will start rumors that your finances are not in order, and that can have consequences to business ventures a young Lord may wish to be a part of."

"You're correct in thinking this is all a bit backwards, but it's how things are done, both here in Lorien and in Grisic. In Daravin, it's a bit different, but it's not necessarily what I'd call better. There, the key is to never reveal any information about yourself whatsoever so that it can't be used against you. So conversation tend to go in circles, courtiers trying to pump each other for information while giving up nothing in return. As someone who adores watching people interact, I enjoy it, but I think most people find it frustrating, or just baffling."

He came over to look over Zilrud's outfit. "A belt, I think, and you'll be good to go. If we're ever meeting someone very important, I'm happy to act as your valet, but you've acquitted yourself well with this outfit."

That, in turn, made Thomas proud. They'd done a good job picking out clothes together that Zilrud could put on and take off without ripping or tearing them. No mean feat, considering his sharp nails and tusks. They had also, he hoped, found clothes that Zilrud liked, or at least didn't mind. That second part would come with time.

The actual logistical part of Zilrud's question, the important part, Thomas answered in a distracted, off-hand manner.

"I've got the cook putting together two days worth of food for us. I can pack up in a little over two hours. I think we can be on the road in a Hollow-drawn conveyance by mid-afternoon. There are inns along the way for the first two days, and then on the third, we can either stay in the employee housing or use a tent, if we end up actually in the mines for an extended period of time. How does all that sound?"

[Zilrud]

Thomas had gotten to know Zilrud to the point that he did not need to assume much. Zilrud did not understand the vast difference of how someone with money behaved in comparison to someone who did not. Things simply did not make sense to him, and it would take quite a few conversations to fix that understanding. With Thomas explaining the idea behind it, it still did not make sense to him. It sounded like a valet was a replacement for someone being too lazy. On one hand, he understood that it gave someone a job and it earned them money, but as an individual who had never had the luxury, he could not imagine not doing things himself. That line of thought had him instantly remembering the day spent shopping and being measured. "Hm..." Was the only response he gave as the entire situation was giving him something to think about, which was only a thought for him because of his current living arrangement.

The mention of a belt had the Orkhai looking downward along his torso to his waist and he paused, thinking about a belt. There was no telling what was going through his head, because the half-smirk that came after showed more of some of his teeth as well as more of a tusk as he looked up to Thomas's face. The thought was followed by movement of the Orkhai taking steps toward Thomas to which he stopped just short of being pressed against him. The Orkhai's larger hand lifted and slid through Thomas's hair and gripped to the back of the boy's head and pulled it back so he was looking up, into Zilrud's eyes, that smirk still prevalent on his face. "A tent sounds like a good way to do it. And we can hunt together to get more food." A low growl vibrated deep within his throat and chest as the Orkhai snapped his teeth playfully at Thomas. Releasing Thomas's head, the Orkhai forced himself away from the other, or else they were not going to be able to leave, at all, for the day.

Returning back to the bed, the clawed hand sifted through the new clothes until he found a belt, simple in design and began to work it around the waistline of his pants. Belts, everyone had, he felt, and did not need supervision with it. He was a little clumsier with it, because the belts he had experience with were much wider, but it was manageable. With the belt snaked through and pulled taut, he latched it to the clasp/buckle and stood there, returning his gaze back to Thomas. "Having you away from here, is the best way to spend a few days. Do you think you can handle being with an Orkhai all of the time?" It was a question that did not need an answer. He knew the answer already, and was more of a playful ask, rather than anything meant to be serious.

"We will figure out what is happening there together. Do not worry, my Little One."

[Thomas]

Zilrud wasn't just willing to get away, he seemed almost eager. He was certainly relishing the thought of hunting, camping, and surviving out in the wilds of Lorien. Thomas wished he could say the same. He was capable of camping in the cold, but he didn't enjoy it. The same could be said for any extreme weather: searing summers, deluges and blizzards didn't thrill him, but they didn't scare him, either. He'd spent too many years as an itinerant to be daunted by the prospect of sleeping outside.

Still and all, he wasn't looking forward to it. Soft beds and plush blankets still enchanted him after spending the vast majority of his life without either, and he was not looking forward to the relative penury this little camping trip would afford.

Zilrud was looking forward to it, though, and that changed his mind, a bit. He found himself smiling back, the orkhai's enthusiasm being quite infectious.

"Alone with an Orkhai? I think that I'm rather looking forward to it. It will be quite a chance to see you in your element. I might even learn something, if I pay attention."

Thomas softened at Zilrud's reassurance.

"I'm sure we will. Based on what I've seen from the ledger, the mine is missing a lot of Hollows, as well, which concerns me," he said, his tone carefully even. "It's property damage, you know, in Lorien, but," he looked around, making sure no one else was in earshot. The Rienese did not take kindly to his flights of fancy on this topic.

"The truth, Zilrud, is that I'm rather convinced Hollows are more alive and more intelligent than we realize. I think they feel pleasure and pain and have preferences for things, and I don't like the thought that something is hurting them. They can't defend themselves, so I hope to defend them. The human workers, well, they don't deserve to die either, of course, but there's something worse about the prospect of something that can't fight back being killed. "

[Zilrud]

Zilrud would never understand why so many people lost the desire to be out and about in nature. Was it ideal to be in the snow where it was freezing? Absolutely not, but he had survived in it with little more than a sheet of cloth to try and keep him warm for weeks if not months. The Orkhai were built differently than humans in some ways, but he had still found a way to survive. Given the luxuries he knew that Thomas would bring with them, the Orkhai had little doubt that there would be an issue with the camping itself. And for a brief moment, his mind wandered to the idea of being back out in the wilderness, camping, only he would have a companion this time. Of course, he had not had this in some time, being free out in the wild with someone wanting to be there alongside him. It was a refreshing feeling, and even though his face did not show it, he was enjoying the fact that Thomas's features had at least softened to the idea of going with Zilrud for the camping aspect. "I will teach my Little One what he needs to know."

The Orkhai was cocky in certain respects, and he deserved to be. When it came to survival and raw power, especially that to kill, the Orkhai was a prime example of it. What caught the Orkhai's attention and had his tone changing was the concern that Thomas suddenly displayed. Blinking in confusion, it was clear on Zilrud's face that he was not completely following what Thomas was saying. And the confusion was not for what many would consider there to be a reason for the confusion. Zilrud had never heard of Hollows before being in Lorien. He had not seen or heard of many, but some existed where he had been kept prisoner. He had the vaguest idea of what they were, but nobody had fully explained them to him. So, when Thomas was t trying to defend his reasoning and why he felt the way he did, a thick, green finger raised and rested itself over Thomas's lips. "Little One. You speak of the servant things that are in your home?" He asked, lifting his gaze to the door to his bedroom, then back down to Thomas. The pad of his finger rubbed against the other's upper lip and then lower lip before falling away. "They are not alive?"

In Rokhan, many things were infused with magical prowess and ether, but he had never known them not to be considered alive. Zilrud himself had a very distinct thought process that once ether was infused into something, it was brought to life, even if just for a moment. "I will help you save your... Hollows. Or at least help you figure out what is happening." The Orkhai smirked and lifted his thumb and forefinger to tip the boy's chin up a bit higher. "My Little One's spark is... Nice." Thomas had his own level of sass, snark, and aggression. He did not display it often, but when he did, it was intriguing, and the Orkhai found it endearing.

"Is there anything I need to do before we leave?"

[Thomas]

Sometimes, Zilrud's ignorance was refreshing. He did not have enough context to understand just how off base Thomas was compared to the average Rienese citizen. He hadn't received much education about Hollows, or maybe any. It wasn't that Thomas wanted Zilrud to remain ignorant; quite the contrary. It was just nice to not have to respond to a barrage of follow-up questions about his assertion.

He was concerned about this, so Zilrud was too. Simple as that. It was nice to just be trusted in this fashion. Weird, but nice.

As for being taught more about nature and the like, well, Thomas was open to it. He'd spent years out in the wilds, but he was no woodsman. He mainly recognized plants through trial and error, for instance. These red berries made a good dye for medicines, that kind gave people stomach aches and diarrhea and was therefore only good as a purported cure for parasites. As with all of his nostrums, the symptoms were proof enough of efficacy.

"I'm glad you seem to like this silly plan of mine, Zilrud," Thomas said, and found he wasn't just being polite.

He'd had a feeling Zilrud might enjoy a bit of a sojourn, but the enthusiasm he sensed radiating from the warrior was thrilling. The shopping trip had made him cautious, defensive, and insecure; he'd known he wasn't in his element. Now, they were heading into a situation that he felt more familiar, and his attitude showed the valor that THomas had known was there all along.

"As for packing: bring anything you wish to bring. I'd recommend a few changes of clothes, including at least one fancy outfit in case we need to meet someone important. Any weapons you wish to bring, in case we run into something bad. I'll be bringing my gun, just in case. I don't like using the blasted thing, but better to come prepared when you know you're walking into something that could be dangerous."

"I suppose I can just, you know, move things about, as well," Thomas said, before concentrating hard to make a purple glow appear around a book, then making it fly off of a nearby shelf and land in his hand. He'd been practicing, a bit, but not enough to really do anything all that impressive. "But I prefer the surety of something that can drop targets from a distance."

[Zilrud]

The Orkhai's brows knitted together in confusion as Thomas referred to his plan as silly. He was confused about part of it. Mostly, he was confused in terms of why it was silly. Thomas felt strongly enough about it that he wanted to put action on his concerns. It warranted at least taking a look. The line of thought was growing louder and louder in his mind, to the point he could not contain the concern for his thoughts alone. "Why is your plan silly? You care enough to want to go and look into what happened. If we go and look and it was an accident, everything is fine. You think about how to make it better for next time. And if it is not okay, then we fix whatever the problem is. Either way, your mind will be at peace. That, my Little One, is not silly."

As the topic changed to what to bring with him regarding clothing, the Orkhai looked annoyedly at the pile of clothing. He did not mind the simple shirts, pants, or jackets. Although he complained about most clothes, he quite enjoyed the boots, which was something he was not ready to admit yet openly. But fancy clothing required even more layers, and that, unfortunately, did not resonate well with the Orkhai. "I will pack extra things." When the weapons were brought up, it dawned on Zilrud that he had not had a weapon in some time. Blinking as he thought back to the last time he held a weapon in his hands, it had been in his earlier days of servitude, before they made him do things with his bare hands. "I would be rusty with a weapon. I should practice... But I do not need a weapon. And if we go to a mine and run into a problem, I am the weapon." He was also rusty as a Dividim, but he was not entirely ignorant of remembering the basics. And as long as he remembered the basics of Divide, he would be fine. He was no master of the Mark of Control he bore, but he had a strong foundational understanding of it, something he had made sure he had in his youth. And the occasional times he practiced and allowed himself to commune with the elements, the often enough times he was allowed to reconstitute his relationship with the earth.

The purple glow, however, caught his attention. Rather than confusion or thoughtfulness, Zilrud was surprised, in a good way, when the book came to Thomas's hand. At first, Zilrud watched with a slow-forming grin at the book landing in his Little One's hand. Still, it also led to Zilrud's eyes traveling Southward as he remembered a private moment from what seemed ages ago. He let out a single-breathed chuckle as he looked back to the other's eyes, allowing his red gaze to rest on Thomas's handsome features. "I see Blobby is also joining us. I am sure he is proud." Perhaps that mark wasn't just for show. After all, he remembered being introduced to the mark quite fondly and Thomas's need to treat it as its own entity. Even then, the Orkhai had not thought Thomas insane or anything of the like. In fact, some of Zilrud thought it endearing that Thomas clung to certain youthful whims of believing all life was to be cherished to some degree. It was even a baser fact in some Orkhai methodology. Yes, they could be blood-crazed murderers, but they were also shepherds, farmers, and loyal to the elements and spirits. So in some roundabout way, Zilrud believed Thomas had his own, deeper connection with things, even if others thought it some level of crazy or awkwardness.

"Anything you bring, Little One, will always be useful to me."

And with that, Zilrud kept the gnarled smirk on his features and turned to begin sifting through clothes so he could start packing some away for this trip of theirs.