[PRP]I Should Have Just Stayed Lost(Azazel and Noem)Finished

[DieKraft Fe-Amon]

Azazel was placing tea bags into the ceramic cups. They were ornate--almost good enough for royalty and trimmed with gold and fine lettering near the rims. Saucers were included with biscuits on them, made fresh it seemed, almost too good to be eaten. They were topped with some kind of icing and small blueberries on their tops.

"Here--I have some treats as well," he spoke, the water poured into the cups, the steam rising pleasantly into the air and the aroma filled Azazel's nostrils. He blinked slowly and shook his head. He would wait for evening tea to be over.

"I hope you like this tea--its a special blend I have just for guests," he slurred the 's' in his speech like a snake, his deep voice comforting.

"Tell me--do you like music?" he asked, sitting his his chair, the tea now ready for drinking and the biscuits ready for the eating.
Azazel's hands went for a biscuit and he ate in his chair, relaxing against the back of it.

"You may remove your cloak----unless it hides daggers--- there is no reason to have it here, the air is warm and the tea is hot, please, relax," he nodded with a grin, holding teacup in hand and sipping at it so he would know the tea was safe to drink.
 

[Dooma]

This strange Ista seemed to be doing very well for himself based on his china. Even if it were only used for guests it would take Noem a year to save up for such finery though his job paid fairly well. "Did you make these biscuits yourself sir? If you have you are in deed a stallion of many talents." he said as he watched the water being poured into the cups. Even though he was not as close as the other was the smell was rather intoxicating and alluring just as much as Azazel's speech.

"The tea smells very nice. Though I must say fairly strong." His ears flicked at the slurred s's. That suddenly seemed to stop when Azazel changed subjects. Maybe he was not used to having guests. Or he was not a big fan of them. Noem gave a gentle nod, "I can't say I get to hear music often though I do enjoy it when I hear it from time to time. I can't play any instrument though. How about you sir?"

At the mention of his cloak he looked down at it and his golden cheeks darkened. "Oh no I have no daggers sir. I fear the the fire so bright that it might be beneficial for me to keep my cloak on. But if you would feel better as my host with it off I will." he leaned forward and placing the binding jar on the table he stood up and unclasped his cloak. As he let the thick fabric slid from his shoulder the room did brighten up as the fire reflected from his golden coat.

Folding his cloak around the binding jar he set it on the chair next to him as he sat back down. "I hope this is better sir." he did not meet the other stallion's eyes now that he was uncloaked. He leaned forward to carefully pick up the tea and he looked down at the liquid before he took a small sip.  

[DieKraft Fe-Amon]

"Oh no--I have neighbors who are all too happy to make the for me," he spoke, it was not a lie, they were neighbors...but servants mostly.

Azazel was pleasantly sipping his own, it was strong...that was one way to put it. The tea was laced with a sleeping agent and within an hour or so his guest would before his prisoner. Azazel sipped happily at his own, genuinely happy that it was just so blasted easy to get others to follow him. He could do well in political office did he have need of researching the ways of prophets. Those that burned him so long ago...his face now was staring intently into the fire.

His thoughts were only truly interrupted when the male removed his cloak and the room gained a light it had not previously possessed. Azazel was nodding to himself, grinning again, his voice came back to its previous silken texture.

"Oh--You have such a lovely hyde, why would you hide such a thing from me?" he asked his tone a bit playful as he continued sipping his tea.

"You know--I could never mar such lovely coat, I like bautiful things," he spoke, his ears flicking in amusement and almost...delight. He would fetch a high price being of such color...such...radiance. He would practically have to auction him off just to see how high it could.
Yes...
Azazel nodded.
An Auction indeed.
His smiled broadened once more.


 

[Dooma]

At the comment to his coat Noem set the cup down and let his eyes fall to the floor. The way the other spoke at him he felt like he was a piece of meat. He gave a gentle shake of his head, "I do not hide it from just you. I hide it from everyone during the daylight hours. I do not wish to blind anyone." he said flatly as he wriggled back in his chair.

As the other continued on he felt even more uncomfortable and he was suddenly regretting having asked the other for help. "I am told that even bruised and battered it is still a lovely coat." He said his voice laced with darker tones of memories. This room was now too small and far to hot. The words said with such a playful tone were the same he had heard before. Noem brought a hand up to cover his eyes as he felt sick to his stomach.

Standing up Noem swayed, it would seem that his tolerance for the sleeping drug much like his sense of direction was extremely weak. He tried to take a step and almost stumbled catching himself on the back of the chair he struggled to keep to his feet, "I...need some air...sir." he said his voice weak and softly pleading.

Even if he had been allowed air it would not do the golden stallion much good. The combination of memories he had tried to keep locked away and the sleeping draft had a very strong hold on him. His legs gave out and Noem fell to his knees. He tried to hold onto the chair but it only helped him to slide down onto his side. The last thing he saw as nightmares took him off to sleep was the fire. "Ophir...help..me..." he barely could whisper, "...Please..." Before he was out cold on the Ista's floor.  

[DieKraft Fe-Amon]

Azazel took the opportunity to finish his tea, munching on a biscuit as he turned from the fire to his new play thing and back again. His hands picked up the unfinished biscuits and the teacups, letting them rest gently on his table and the end of the china hutch once more. He placed a spoon into the honey jar and pulled it out, licking it like a lollipop.

Azazel's ears flicked in amusement as he walked over to his new toy, tail swishing happily as he did so. he had such new things to try out! He wanted to test the might of this new gadget he had bought last trip to the slavers camps.

He tossed the cloak in a great heap near the fire, and pulled a stone from the hearth itself which revealed a secret storage area built into the stones themselves. There were chains and ropes and various other means of locking up others. he pulled a thin rope as he did not wish to damage the goods he was taking to market.

The night wore on, a couple hours having passed as it took time, planning, cunning, to prepare a good session and the proper knots for the ordeal. All slavers used the same knots--they were easy to spot and let other travelers know just by looking if one was to be sold or was just bought.

By the time the male would wake, he could find himself tied, with a thin and well-made rope, strong enough to withstand the tries of travel and far nicer than cold iron. There was a rug and a few cushions beneath his body, Azazel made sure he could reach nothing sharp and certainly was not able to reach the fire or anything which might otherwise aide his escape.

"Shepherdess--makes quite a mess----but little lambs are tassssty~!" he hummed and half sung the song of wolves and with a nearly gleeful note he sat back in his chair, close to the prisoner. He intended to stay awake all night either the new toy decided to.

Secretly, he was gathering the gold enough for a place of his own, larger, defended and more importantly, he could gather his own army and begin a settlement...A settlement to rule over and breed his own brand of soldiers.


 

[Dooma]

If with his drugged dreams all being nightmares he had stayed pretty limp threw the tying and shifting him onto a more 'comfortable' bedding than the cold floor. It would be a few hours before the gold stallion stirred in his sleep. His even breathing faltering an a ear flicked gave the first signs of his waking.

The pops and crackle of the fire were the first sounds Noem heard over the roaring in his ears. He did not remember where he was but the fact that the first was going he knew he was not at his own home. His heart started to quicken but a deeper instinct told him not to rise or show he was too much awake just yet.

He took a few quiet deep breaths trying to catch any scents that would give away any clues to where he was. He caught the strange scent that instantly brought memories back. The strange two horned Ista that had led him to the cottage. His mind was fuzzy still and it was hard to focus. He had fallen to the floor of the cottage drugged.

Forcing the panic down he carefully tried to shift as if in sleep to test where he was. He felt the binding on his body preventing much movement. But he had had enough to feel thick fur bush against him and a couple soft cushions. Dear god...please tell me I am not in his bed. He did not know if the bed room in the cottage had a fireplace so the only way he would know for sure is if he opened an eye.

His mouth was too dry to swallow and as he took another slow breath the scent of the other stallion was strong enough that is was clear the stallion was in the room with him. But apart from the warmth of the fur he did not feel any body heat against or near him. Then his ears flicked as he heard the humming and singing. He felt a bit more anger fill him than fear. At least right now it seemed that the stallion was waiting and more than likely knew he was awake so Noem open up his eyes. He did not say anything but just slowly looked around the room with out turning his head. So he was still in the living room.

When his eyes landed on Ista he lay there looking at him without a word. His brownish eyes did not hold anger or fear but a strange combination of acceptance and sadness.

He was tied yes but the Ista seemed not to want to mar his hyde. He was not tied in chains but rope and he had been moved to a more cushioned place than the floor that was also away from anything sharp or harmful. So he was going to be sold again to slavers.  

[DieKraft Fe-Amon]

Azazel did not move , he simply let one eye lazily loll to the side, looking over his new prize.

"Oh--So nice you have had a change to wake." he smiled, his voice still as soothing, deep and dark like autumn evening when the wind blows and moon is black and hiding. Azazel returned to the tea set and poured himself another cup, sipping at it. it was a long while before he would speak anymore, even if questions were asked, even if the male had been, indeed by the look on his humbled face, caught before, Azazel could find something to do with him...

It was no fun fighting someone who had already given up, he had little, to no fight, and his rather...Odd, experiments required a decent scream now and then and the occasional look of horror. This mearh would not give this pleasure to him. Perhaps he would find another? But that coat---so lovely, so light...
He hated the light.

Those other Ista, so caught up in their prophecy that they would cut off my wings!?

Who are they to take form a child! a CHILD!!

By now---Azazel's face was twisted in both agony and hatred for those mearh. Most of them he had killed already, of those he remembered, but the rest of the settlement roamed the countryside and he had little need of their inhospitable ways.

He would defeat them, conquer their way of life so no one...no other ista born of the land and the sky would be shunned and clipped ever again. Azazel shuddered, rubbing the scars on his back with an embrace of himself as his figure sank into the armchair deeper , face still tense and hurt; twitching like a ravager, a beast in the darkness.

"You. Will come with me," he hissed like a snake, talking through his teeth.

"Your eyes tell me you have been to the North before, and I will enjoy taking you there again. You are lucky you possess no Ista blood---or you would not see the light of day come morning," his one eye to the prisoner twitched and his insanity leaked from the cracks in his smile, still, that voice...that haunting, alluring voice spoke almost commandingly even if there was no command in his words.

"I have not decided if you are worthy of my experiment or not," he slurred, his expression melting back to his usual neutral one, horns glimmering in the light of the fire, it was dying down now, he placed a single log back onto it and stoked it.
There were a few hours before sunrise...and then they would walk.


 

[Dooma]

Noem did not respond to the Ista's comment on him having a chance to wake. It was not his fault, though he had drank willingly, that he had been drugged and knocked out. He might seem calm but he was only playing so becuase most of the time when the victim did not struggle or cry or put up a fuss their captor grew bored and would harm them less.

The golden stallion shook his head. He was not going to allow himself to fall back into those memories. He was not a foal any more. This Ista could not ruin him the same way so many had in the past because he was no longer as innocent has he had been. his mind not longer childish and wishful. And even though he might never see his fellow coins again at least he had the memory of someone who had said they would come for him. Even if that person never would it was some hope is the growing darkness.

The bound stallion watched as his 'host' grew sullen and seemed to melt into the chair before a craze look twisted his features. Noem was not sure if it was a memory of a painful past or the ravings of a craze mind that caused the shift but a bit of worry filled his eyes. His ears laid back against his golden curls as he watched the other and before he could ask where they would be going Azazel continued.

The golden body tensed and Noem shifted back a bit, "I would rather be dead than go back there." he said his voice a bit calmer than he thought it would be though it was laced with a trace of worry or fear. "Just pretend I share you blood and kill me hear. Mare me and skin me and sell that for a price if you wish. But I will not go willingly North with you!" he growls almost at the end and took his eyes from the Ista not wanting to see his haunted twisted look any more.

"Trust me. I am not worth anything. I am not worth the effort you put in drugging me and tying me. I am not some prized little foal any more." He let out a bit of a sigh though knowing he was safe from anything but a pain from the stallion and of course the slavers at the end of what ever it was the Ista would do to him. "But before you wonder my blood runs red like anyone else." He shut his eyes for now it seemed like a stale mate.

Try as he might he still could not read the duel horned stallion. He seemed at once crazed and for lack of a better word almost kind. Though of course that kindness was due to the golden hyde that he wished not to dampen. For once the crused flesh was helpful.  

[DieKraft Fe-Amon]

The first sound of defiance and Azazel's temper flared with a great roar, the fire itself licked out of the stony fireplace and nearer and nearer to the endeh bound by rope.

"Do not... Test my patience." His voice was crackling, dry like leaves... And the hiss it possessed was worse than a snake, it was a devilish scream hiding under the clenched jaw and flared nostrils; his eyes a swirling potion of hatred and envy.

Azazel knew fear would only go so far, and he relented, the fire crept back into the pit and the darkness previously about the room seeped back into place.

"You cna lie all you like, try to trick or haze my judgement, but magic knows no such fallacy or rouse," he picked up a dagger from his table drawers, clad in rubies with a runic message on its blade, only readable by magicians.

Azazel crept up to the male, almost crawling, no, slithering nearby.

"You can not lie to this," he held the dagger in one hand and the coin's wrist in the other.

Raising it high with a huff he struck down, placing it through a pillow on the other side of the male's hand. He was sure to shriek or cringe and Azazel waited for this answer from the other's instincts before grinning and continuing his work. He pulled one delicate writer's finger into his mouth and bit down, taking a small amount of blood into his lips and picking up the blade, releasing and almost neglecting the other male's reaction entirely.

Azazel placed the blade horizontally in front of himself and the fire and let the blood drip from his dark lips onto the blade. Fire seemed to reach out and grasp for it, taking it into the hearth where it began to glow.
No.
Only one portion began to glow...

Azazel had his answer and the fire, seemingly now alive, handed back to him the blade, glowing still but not harming its master. He wiped the blade with the fur on the floor, leaving it to be sullied until he had better use and the knife was returned to its darker place in the drawer.

Azazel looked calm again, glancing at the male.

"What?" he grinned,"You think I would really harm such prime meats?" he purred again, his voice was deeper and more pleasant than it had been, if that were possible, when they met.

"You may rest now."

He sat back into his comfortable chair, letting his hands weave themselves in his lap and he sank back into it, watching the prize once more until the grey arrid dawn came into view, the fire creeping slowly down and into a hold behind the fire place where its dim light was barely seen.



 

[Dooma]

As the fire lashed out of the fireplace Noem lowered his head, his eyes shutting, as it accept the fact he was about to get burned. He did not want to die by fire but it would be better than going to back to the slavers and if he was burned up there was less of a chance of him being a favored slave. The harder labor would be his fate and he much preferred that. When Azazel spoke again Noem's eyes opened up. He did not see the fire raging towards him any more. but even if he did not look up at the Ista he could hear the anger and craze in his voice. He could not understand what was making him so furious but he knew that furry was bad when he was captured. It meant pain would come soon. But he could not think of a way to pacify the stallion.

Hearing the sound of Azazel creeping towards him Noem tensed a bit. He looked up at the Ista and the dagger and he knew he was going to be in trouble now. When he felt his wrist grabbed he tensed a bit more. He did not mind dying but he could not continue to live if his hands were busted up and ruined. He watched as the blade as raised and as it was trusted out he cried out, "Please not my hands!" He was panting as he felt and heard the blade hit a pillow instead of his hand. He shut his eyes knowing he had given a weak spot away to the other and cursing himself for doing so.

His eyes shot open as he felt the other's mouth wrap around on of his figners. He bit his lips trying to keep from moving at the warm feel before he did give a gentle but sharp cry as he was bit. He curled his hands into fists protecting his bleeding finger as the Ista left him to do his own little experiment.

He watched Azazel mostly only getting to see him from behind. As he watched the fire and the way the Ista seemed to calm complete Noem did not know if he was more afraid now or less. He cringed a bit under the grinning look of the other as meat was mentioned. He was still going to be sold. His heart sank in his chest and he shut his eyes trying to coil into a ball. His ears lowered as if trying to not listen to the drawing voice. He knew he would not be able to sleep all night so he just laid on his make shift bed dreading the forth coming dawn. Why had he followed his stallion? Why was he so trusting even after all he had gone threw in the past?  

[DieKraft Fe-Amon]

Azazel was quiet for along while, letting the fire puff and hide behind the crevices of its place in the stone hearth. It was almost alive, asking for more things to burn, keeping Azaze;'s constant attentions with his magic to control it before he pushed it beyond the tiny hole, hardly visible, and shut it behind an iron door.

"You should not fear such harm form me," he grinned, "I guess the knowledge will come in handy should anyone particularly vile want you."

By the time the windows were blazing with morning's first light his hands had been to his pockets and pulled a time-keeping device and strapped it to his arm, much like a bracer it seemed to hold other properties not known to any save himself.

"Forgive me--night time brings out my less temperate side," he spoke, grabbing a few things from his drawers, by now he was preparing a quick lunch and a pack for each of them to carry, his with naught but food and a few bandages and some herbs in it, and Azazels was packed out of sight, behind a curtain. Both were an exquisite red leather with runes blemished on the front latches.

"Eat."
He spoke, offering more biscuits from the night before, and on top of this there was cheeses and a few breads to choose from in small individual loaves. Azazel set a plate of wood covered in goodies in front of the coin mearh.
Surely a leagil would be hungry first thing in the morning?
It had been hours since either had eaten.

" I will give you one chance," he spoke between nibbles on a tart,"to save yourself. I like to play fair, afterall."

He shrugged, finishing the pastry.

"You can tell me how I might use you--How might you serve me, and perhaps, if you're useful, I will not sell you to someone with a temper."

 

[Dooma]

Noem might have dozed a bit for when he opened his eyes dawn was well past and morning was in full session. He could have cursed at his fate. He have a gentle sigh and shifted his still tied body a bit feeling the crying of his stiff muscles. He flicked his tail as his ears flicked forward at the other's voice and actions.

He grew more confused at the others words. What did it matter what side night brought out of the strange Ista? He was selling him so there was no reason to apologize. He shifted to watch the other pack up a bag then disappear behind a curtain to pack up another one. As the other packed up the golden stallion remained silent just watching him. He knew there was nothing he could do at this point. The only chance he would have is when they were outside.

When the other returned with a plate of food and sat it down on the floor before him the golden one's stomach growled even as he turned his face from the plate and the treats. He was sure that the other would not drug him again so soon. But he would be forced to eat like an animal with his hands tied up. He knew he should eat and get some sort of strength before the march and his attempt at an escape. But even with who he was he did have some pride and having to eat without his hands was not something he wanted to do.

Taking a breath he shifted to kneel above the plate his brown eyes looked up at the other with hope. There could be a chance he would not have to go to the slavers. He would do anything he could not to be sold yet again. "How I might serve you?" His ears lowered. He was still going to be sold but just to a kinder master. How was that saving him? He almost growled but instead gave a tired sigh and hung his head, "I am just a simple book keeper. I have no special skills to serve you. I am not that strong and I get lost easily but I shall do anything you ask. I can cook or clean, or do anything ledger work you need. Tell me what you desire of me and I shall do all in my power to achieve that for you sir. I do not want to go back...to the slavers." He bit his lip then looked up at the Ista, "Please I will do anything you ask." He frowned lightly and waited. He could not get a read on this stallion at all. He did not know how he could appeal to him. "I will do anything sir please."  

[DieKraft Fe-Amon]

Azazel was unimpressed, his hands stopped wringing themselves in an expectant or excited way. He was still and his face, other than the subtle change to slight disappointment, was unmarked without lines or scars.

"You...are just another pretty face then." he looked at the fire's door and secured a final latch. The bags were prepared and they were placed by the door with care.

"It is autumn, and I enjoy the travel. Seems you will be sold after all. And please--no sniveling. it puts me in a foul mood. And no one wants that do they?" he approached with hands open and untied the male's restraints.

"If anyone asks. We are traveling to the Mountains for vacation. We will be best friends, and may all the Gods help you if you say, smell or even think otherwise," he spoke still, so calm, so resolved and commanding. Hands were untied now, and he placed one long fingered hand onto the bookie's shoulders.

"Do not worry--usually those in need of your services will not harm you, perhaps even let you visit the Sword and Cup once in a while?" he laughed, not sure the other would get the reference. Azazel was able to stand, unlock his door and grab his various potions and weapons which were to adorn his body beneath a traveling cloak which he put on after.

"You better grab yours." Azazel smiled as he picked up the cloak from the chair across from his own which had been otherwise unoccupied that night. The door opened to the fog outside, it was still there, thin and lifting from the fields slowly, creeping onward the south and away from the house.

 

[Dooma]

Unlike his mother had been able to do, Noem had no skills to promote himself or sell himself to another. He had no idea what to offer Azazel that could possibly tempt him. And he was not going to lie and say he could do something just to tick Azazel off then get sent back North anyway. Even before Azazel had spoke he knew what his fate was and he seemed to accept it his handsome face growing emotionaless. He did not even want to run anymore. He had been broken over and over again in his youth and even though he had two Mearh to return too he had no will to fight. Besides he could not face his uncle again or expect him to save him. Nor did he want his only real friend to see him as a slave.

His ear flicked slightly, it was the only sign that he was listening to Azazel. He was to be sold as he knew he would. He lowered his hand when they were freed but made no motion to hit or fight the Ista. Even when the other stallion placed a hand on his shoulder Noem did not really seem to notice. He seemed to have already gone more into a preservation mode.

His golden muzzle curved into a smirk and his distant eye turned to look at the Ista stallion, "I know very well what those who buy me will do. I have been everywhere where up there." He gave a humorless laugh, "The Cup and Sword....I have seen the interior of every room there."

Noem moved to grab the pack that had been set for him to carry and he let his fingers slide over the fine cloth of his cloak. What a waist all his uncle's hard work had been. His dear uncle, the only Mearh in the world that had cared for the golden foal, had gone to The Deep and found Noem on the shores of Riddle Wheel Island on the brink of death, hardly any life in him and taken him to the coins. "A slave does not wear just finery. You can keep the cloak...sir." he looked out into the fog and with his pack on his back he headed out into the waining fog. What did he care if anyone saw his blinding golden coat let others see him now...  

[DieKraft Fe-Amon]

Azazel did not take kindly to the refusal of the cloak--finery? That rag? hardly! And how dare he refuse Azazel's command. The last thing he needed was someone to recognize the bumbling idiot!

Approaching with swift and graceful steps, his tail flicking irately behind him, ears flattened. His eyes flared into the madness , a flicker of it anyways, that the other had seen last night. One hand grabbed the cloak, bringing it to the other male and placing it in his fist, his own hand curled around it and squeezed until all his knuckles were white.

"Do not make me repeat myself."

With that, his demeanor was restored to the prior collected expressions and gestures. His voice was never anything but soft, anything but soothing, almost calming itself.

"Come now, lets not get behind," he spoke, latching the door and with a whisper of some ancient magic locked it, and the house, or what looked like one, morphed, or rather disappeared into the hillside, as though it had never been... If they had slept at all, the coin might have guessed it was a trick and a dream and he had simply walked all night in its entirety.

Once they were both cloaked, Azazel went back into the roads, making sure to avoid heavy traffic and the townships as they went north.