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This city... was a never ending loop. The sun rose and fell, the moon arched through the skies, and yet all it ever seemed to be achieved in the span of a day and night were more notches on the wood, more crosses on a ghastly ledger so worn out the pages yet to write were already flaking. As a life saw the grey light of day in Corsairh, a last breath escaped the lungs of one, of another and yet another, of all those who had failed to cross the hurdle to their little, temporary haven of truce. For any time of bliss was just merely that. A truce with fate, until the bloodied, jagged wheels that cursed humanity threw another grain of salt and rubbed it into the wound of hopelessness. People didn't live in Corsaihr, there merely survived to die another time. A murderous circus, and the boy had almost arrived at the ledge of one of its spectators.

It seemed almost perfectly synchronized, expected. Even if it did have some degree of delay - the woes of having such a big dwelling -, the silence that ensued after the sickening sound of skull against stone was broken by the creaking of a heavy door opening and calm, calculated footsteps on the snow. A quick judgement of vital signs, and the child was lifted by purpose filled arms and carried past the door he had previously strived to touch. So far, and yet so near, little did he know. But the child would know once he woke up, in a room that, of the city, of its essence, had nothing. Another place in time, one would wonder, of when more than despair actually thrived in Corsaihr. To envellop the child, silken sheets and feahtery pillows. To welcome him, the soothing sound of a crackling fireplace. And to make sure he lived, a skin so pristine and a comfort so light that one would think himself dead.

Instead of the vicious response the boy feared, all that rang through the air was laughter, melodious notes of light amusement. Not some wrathful screams or snide reprovation, or even a depreciative flick of the boot upon the poor child's face. Only jovial laughter, as warm as the burning embers just by their side. "I would have never thought you'd cling so dearly to those poor rags. They've seen more action than that pelt, that is for certain..."

The boots clicked on the wooden floor as the mysterious patron shifted, the ruffling of clothes and the shifting shadow denouncing that he'd just... sat by the boy? Such curious thing! The clothes matched the pristine boots, stern and military, though of a rich shade of grey that seemed to shift as the light changed with each little movement. However, the face - oh, the face - couldn't belong any less to the serious outfit, smiling warmly to his newest, most precious guest of all. The man's eyes were of the deepest, most unnerving black, but even they had a playful shine to them. "... In fact, I never realized how good a sit this old wolf could be. Please, make yourself comfortable, child."

The child just kept on giving the man more and more reasons to smile. He had chosen well, so well! A good measure of confidence filled his heart, even if the mind just kept on thinking it was nothing short of a lucky guess. Even the initiative of the boy, offering himself... So delightful! This boy was definitely a keeper, and to abuse him wasn't part of his carefully delineated plan. No. No work, and certainly no 'work'.

The man was a towering figure, and the stark contrast between the height of child and adult came particularly to light when the young boy leaned against him. It was actually... moving, such genuine happiness, and the reassurance that the boy owed not what he thought came in the form of a soft embrace, completely uncaring of the final state of the man's clothes. Clothes could be washed or replaced, and it was well worth it to allow the boy's beaming happiness spill over his uniform. As their gaze met once more, a flitting thought crossed the man's mind. Beautifully blue. How such a vibrant color was possible in this dank and gods-forsaken city, he would forever wonder.

"Please, don't say anymore, child. It shouldn't be a burden to anyone to save a poor young soul such as you from such a pitiful death-" He was interrupted by the boy's appreciation for his little moment of warmth, the smooth jaw left slightly ajar for but a moment, before that oh so welcoming smile returned. "Oh, please. No more Lord or Sir, it makes me feel so distant, and I'm right by your side! I would like you to think of my person as someone closer than a snooty nobleman, and perhaps even some semblance of... family, in due time of course. That is, if you'd like to stay..." The offer was thrown just like that, disarming, unexpected... irresistible.

Throughout the boy's long, excited ravings and recounts of his less honorable deeds, the tender and caring expression didn't disappear. In fact, all the boy got was a gesture of understanding and acceptance as a polished, bare - gasp! - hand braved into the rowdy mess of black hair, despite the repeated warnings of lice, a light chuckle released at the mention of 'real cheese'. It was a hard life outside, and this man was no stranger to it. No one in the city, in one way or another, was. Even if not many could claim to be outside of the morbid rhythm of survivalist violence...

"Excellent!" He exclaimed as the child finally blurted out his acceptance. Obviously, the boy'd been scarred by his most heinous acts, and the inner struggle to remain proper and prim was clearly visible, but that was nothing that couldn't be circumvented in the long run. Diamons in the rough do need to be cut and polished, after all, but they were still diamonds. "You see, I've been alone in here for... quite some time. Well, there are the servants, yes, but I haven't had anyone to call family for probably as long as you have lived..." The large hand ruffled the boy's mop playfully, leaving him a tidbit more bedhaired than before. "Of course, here you won't live like in the streets, but I think I'm a perfectly decent teacher for the finer details of life." A playful wink met the boy's gaze, and a white grin shone on the man's face, until the moment he hit a sudden realization. "Oh, you surely you must be starving, yes?"

It was only when the boy mentioned it that the fact he hadn't introduced himself ocurred to the older male. Ah, fancy that. Here he was, just finished going on about the finer things, and he wasn't even polite enough to tell the boy his name! "Oh, how silly of me! My name is Alston, child. And I'm very sure you will do well, with such a bright spirit!" Again, that enticing, charming laugh rang as the noble rose to his feet, his shadow cast over the small boy for a few moments as he eyed the child up and down. A lot of dirt here, a bit of blood there, the pungent odor of the sullied streets.

"Not that long considering your wounds, my dear child. Had you come inside but a second later, I fear you wouldn't count among the living anymore. About a day and a half, really." Alston bent over the boy once again, but this time, instead of sitting, his motion was even more unexpected: he picked the child up in his arms, sheet and all and, like a baby, deposited the young boy back on the bed. "As a matter of fact, you should still be resting, young man!" His tone was of playful chiding, even with the pointy finger out and everything, mocking the responsible parent figure stereotype. After all, he wouldn't want to have his young charge keel over, right?

"You know what, lets make a deal. I'll go fetch you a good, hearty breakfast, and after you eat you'll go right back to sleep." There was no leeway for a rebuke of any sort if the thought even crossed the boy's mind about whether it was right or wrong for his patron to go get his breakfast, and although the speech was still light and soft spoken, a slight inflection in Alston's voice suggested that it wasn't really open to discussion. "Anything in particular that you'd like?"

One last smile graced Alston's features before he went away, taking note of the child's taste. "I think I can probably muster something along those lines, so I'll see what I can do." A small wink, and Alston's towering figure quickly disappeared through the door, the stride as large as the man who walked. He was feeling it, that oh so satisfactory sensation of victory when a plan comes together. Later, after the boy had gone asleep, he figured he'd give himself a good reward for doing so great. A good first impression was key, after all, and with such genuine expressions of gratitude and joy there was no doubt that Alston had hit the jackpot. This wasn't one of those kids that had already given up on life, content with just being the average rat destined to one day end up washed ashore as a lifeless, bloated corpse; no, this boy still held that spark of hope, that drive to thrive and take control of his life, the willpower to succeed. Just what Alston wanted.

Just as he had promised, the tray Alston carried upon his return had no maggots. It had plenty, from fresh bread to pancakes and across scrambled eggs, a hefty cup of milk, always good for the bones, and a miriad of other delicious treats that a poor street kid probably couldn't even dream of ever tasting. "Here you go, child. Just the way you like: maggot free! Just go ahead and dig in!" Alston announced, placing the miniature banquet in front of the boy. He let the young one feed happily for a while, watching the sparkle of happiness in those blue eyes, only helping himself to a single pear in the meanwhile. He waited for the boy to saciate himself before speaking once again, with one important question that had graced his mind during the quest for food. "Now that your stomach is a little happier, how about you introduce yourself? Tell me about you."

Alston had to hand it to the little runt: for an orphaned street urchin he sure could hold a decent composure when the situation called for it. Like now, for instance. It must've been incredibly difficult for the child to restrain himself when faced with all that food. It was still entertaining to catch the slight slip ups that still escaped through the cracks every now and then in the boy's speech though. Then again, perfection is just the most boring thing ever! The little bits of imperfections are what make the world keep spinning and tumble the balance of life. Make for the best of choices. A perfect path is just blah, safe and boring and... perfect.

Amidst the recount of the boy's life tales, the most interesting tidbit as far as Alston was concerned was the lack of name. Absolutely tailor made. There is power in naming something. You claim it as your own, give it your personal mark and bear it for all to see. In a place where status is important, it can be a life saver. And, in this case, it would forever brand the boy from this point on. Years from now, others would know, and would stare and wonder, Alston just knew it. Already, he had grand plans for the child's future. "Indeed, we're family now. I won't admit a nameless child into my fold however, I want you to be proud of who you are and be able to tell it to the world beyond being just a 'Boy' or a 'Kid'. In fact, since I have no heirs of my own I'll give you a name I've been saving for such an occasion: Altais." Alston set the tray aside, sitting closer to the newly dubbed Altais with a certain sparkle in his own black eyes. Him, naming an heir. Ha. What an interesting turn of events... "Do you like it?"