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“We play with two decks,” Lithian explained as he drew out two card stacks, placing them before him. “The deck of sorcerers and the deck of knaves. It’s played with four players, which works for us, and we split into two teams, each taking a deck and parting it in half after its been shuffled. The object is to capture commanders of the opposite team. The rank of each card is low to high, starting at one and stacking to ten with nobles at the top and tricksters being worth zero points, unless a commander is in play. If a commander is in play, then the trickster is the trump and nothing can beat it. A second-rank trump, which can beat any other card except the trickster during a command play, is chosen at random before each game, after a shuffle.”

Lithian shuffled each of the decks, fingers flicking over the cards with more practiced ease than most would have likely suspected out of a high born boy from the Plane. It came easy to him, after all the time he had spent with his numerous siblings when they were younger, playing all variety of games together. Especially simple, low impact games easy for a sickly boy to handle when he was at his youngest.

The four of them — that is, himself, Casseth, Araceli, and Detraeus — a strange, mismatched group which had seemed to have taken to each other’s company to greater and lesser extents, was all gathered on the floor in the main room of Casseth and Kilian’s home. A day of practicing, work, and — in Araceli’s case — house hunting, had called for a brief respite, and Lithian had offered to teach the lot of them a game of cards. Played almost exclusively amongst dovaa on the Celestial Plane, Casseth had never heard of it, but Araceli, too, seemed unfamiliar enough that Lithian started with ground zero as far as the rules and plays were concerned. Whether or not Detraeus knew anything of it, he said nothing.

“The game is played in rounds called tricks,” Lithian continued as he handed out the decks. “Since Ara might at least be somewhat familiar with the game, she can play with Detraeus and I’ll side with Casseth to show him the ropes. The first trick is started by the player to the dealer’s right who lays down any card they please. Afterwards, the next player to the right must attempt to follow suit. The trick continues until someone cannot follow suit, at which point the trick ends and the person who cannot follow begins a new trick with any card in their hand. The previous trick is won by either the player with the highest ranking card in the stack or any player who played a trump within the trick. As I said previously, the primary goal is to win commanders played in a trick, however, winning tricks themselves also earns points for your team…”

Detraeus shifted his weight, the tip of his tail folding inwards and then splaying out impatiently as Lithian spoke.

“You receive one point per flat trick you win, four for a trick with a commander. Winning by capturing all four commanders is a ne’kum par. A conqueror’s win. Winning by capturing thirteen tricks is medkiim, a whitewash. If neither of these occur first, the game goes to the team with the most points when all cards have been played.”

Detraeus sat back and shut his eyes. Moments before opening his mouth to ask the oblivionite if his explanation was boring him, Lithian was interrupted.

Lithian glanced over at Casseth’s inquiry and relaxed. Easier to deal with Casseth than Detraeus, he supposed. He wasn’t even sure why the oblivionite set him off-kilter so easily, but perhaps it was something he ought to work on. He didn’t think he was usually the disagreeable sort. Regardless, he smiled, pushing that thought away for the moment and focussing on Cas, not wanting to frustrate his friend more than he already looked.

“As in, for example…” Lithian drew up a card from the top of the nearest deck and flipped it to show Cas. “If I drew the seven of arrows to begin the trick, the next person around ought to try to match the arrows suit. Someone might play a three of arrows, and then a ten of arrows, then a keeper of arrows…and so on. If the trick ended there, that is, the next person after had no cards of arrows in their hand, then the last person to play before them would win the trick, because the keeper is a face card and of the highest rank in that round. If someone had played an archer — the commander card of the arrows deck — then the trick as a whole would be worth four times the points…does that make sense?”

Detraeus’ tail flicked across the floor, edging over towards where Ara had moved in beside him. Frowning, he dragged it away with a push of will. Why the added limb insisted on moving of its own accord at times, he had yet to discern, but he knew it had no business heading over where it seemed to intend, and he kept it tucked firmly at his opposite side instead, though his attention did linger on the girl he’d pulled it away from.

Detraeus blinked, attention immediately drawn to the flick of Araceli’s tongue, and he narrowed his eyes, huffing and glancing through his hand. A barbarian. The ‘commander’ card of the play which matched the current suit. He had one, but it wouldn’t do well to play if Lithian had a face card to beat Ara’s ten. Then again, a ten was high, and chances were, hers would be higher than anything Lith or Cas had to play, particularly since Casseth started on an eight. After a fleeting glance towards Araceli, Detraeus shrugged and laid his commander on the stack.

Lithian blinked and glanced to Casseth. ‘Anything higher than a ten in your hand?’ he asked with a raise of his eyebrows and a tilt of his cards to show Casseth he had little to offer that could win them the first trick.

Lithian glanced up at Kilian’s entry, and then stood. “I can help,” he said. “Speed the process along and monitor the water, if you need it. A little guidance, if you tell me what’s what, and I can be a bit more useful than a bucket.” Lithian stood without an invite, and followed after Cas when he heard no objections.

Detraeus’ brow pinched as the trio departed, but he said nothing, his face warming and tail edging along the empty floor, back closer to Araceli. Left with no company but hers, he felt — uncertain. He thumbed over his hand. Thirteen cards, useless now for a distraction, now that the game was over. He considered laying them on the ground, but clung to them as though they might provide some shield from conversations he did not understand how to participate in.

Detraeus’ tail flicked, eyebrows raising a fraction of an inch in curiosity. He opened his mouth, then shut it, eyeing her as he reached out and tucked the lot of her cards together, gathering them in a stack.

‘Never?’

It seemed unreal. A girl who clearly had the access to and money for cards? Who grew up in an area where they were undoubtedly played with? He had seen card games. Even he had seen card games. Granted, he had never played before, not in person, but he had watched so many. Enough to have memorized the moves for more games than he cared to count. He flicked his fingers over the stack. A full deck of knaves. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but he shuffled it regardless, the simple way. A way he knew he could handle, rifling the cards back and forth, cutting, shifting, and mixing them from hand to hand.

At length, he shrugged and dealt fifteen cards into a pile, placing it near her before dealing out a hand of five in front of her and then setting up the play on the next line up. Five cards, one, one, and five more, all face down. Then, after dealing himself a hand of five, he put the remaining stack beside him, much like hers.

“Reflexes.” He tapped the center two cards. “When flipped, play any card in your hand one rank higher or lower than the card in play. The object is to empty your hand.” He gathered the cards he’d dealt to himself, fanning them out. “And your stack.” He taped the deck of fifteen beside himself. “You may draw more from your stack into your hand whenever you drop beneath five cards. Should neither of us have a legal play available, a new card pair is flipped into play from the side decks. Understand?”

His tail coiled, edging back across the floor and furling as he curbed he urge to twitch his wings restlessly, his pulse fast. Why was his pulse fast?

Detraeus cleared his throat, shifting his weight restlessly before standing and moving himself to the opposite side of the allotted cards. “It is…played across from one another,” he explained, hoping — for whatever reason — that his withdrawal didn’t offend her. He needn’t care, he knew, and yet did. After settling himself, and ignoring the insistent tug of his tail, desirous of sweeping around towards her again, he initiated the first play.

Araceli caught on quickly, soon moving with ease through the rounds and keeping him on his toes often as not. They played through several games, and Detraeus’ fingers remembered every time hers touched down on his. The locations burned — a tiny, residual burn that did not hurt, but reminded him of their time spent in the cave and what it felt like to hold her to him. To dance with her against him. Or have her over him. He shoved the thought away and focussed his attentions on the game. Unbeknownst to him — or, rather, out of his range of focus as he devoted his thoughts to the immediacy of the gameplay — his tail successfully edged around, settling beside Ara’s leg as he snapped down cards.

“You play well,” he said. “For a girl who has never.”

Detraeus tensed, muscles bunching at the touch. But his tail, which seemed to have half a mind of its own, pressed up into Ara’s touch, the soft side of it pushing towards her fingers as the spikes on the opposite face of its diamond furled inwards. The rest of him shuddered, and his shoulders straightened out, rigid, before he plucked his tail back away with a push of willpower, cheeks burning as he tucked it behind him.

“It…” He swallowed, dipping his eyelids and returning his focus to his hand, forcibly. “Draw.”

Detreaus breathed out, grip tightening against his hand as Araceli laid hers down. He watched her, attention riveted, though he knew in the back of his mind that even if she had been paying attention, she could not possibly have noticed. That, he supposed, was a blessing given to his people: that no one could discern where their focus fell.

“Do you…think that I dislike you…?” he asked, brow pinched as she approached him, though he did not withdraw. Instead, without his permission, his tail flicked back around, sweeping dangerously closer to her. This time, he did not spare the attention to force it away, his focus consumed by her movements.