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"You reveal too willingly your weaknesses, ally." Autsu responded, though there was no real reproof in the statement. In truth, Kian only spoke what could be easily seen, and therefore, revealed nothing. And this was a safe place. "And mine are more obvious still. Hit only gently, and still I break. This form is weak. My scales were stronger than this dark skin."

"It will be fun, to test each other." A glance toward Patrick, and though he was looking at his meal again when he next spoke, it was clear enough were the words were directed, "To learn, not injure."

He fell quiet then, considering the fact of his words. Soon they'd be sparring with each other, and contact between them would become yet more inevitable. His skin burned as thought called up image and promise. It was difficult, this friendship, this alliance. So much so near. Old desires mingled with the new, until he couldn't seperate them.

"It will be fun." He repeated, testing the irony of the words.

Kniene had finished putting together his own sandwich and took a thoughtful bite of it before responding to Patrick. He too, felt the boys could find their own paths. There was only so much guiding that could be done, and Autsu had walls he still couldn't see past. Maybe Kian could. Maybe that's why Autsu needed him. "People then, and not a place. People, and the Lady. That is where I'm from."

Sethos was not inattentive, even if he was silent. His gold serpent's eyes focused on the young child, and his lips turned upward in a slow smile. Reaching out, he took his cup of tea, holding it out to Ade in turn. Whether this meant as an exchange or an explination was up to the boy.

Autsu, of course, was anything but unknowing. Though he managed to keep his body from going rigid through pure force of will, he wasn't quite capible of going back to calmly eating. All his attention, for the moment, was on the boy leaning against him. By his father's Lady, he could not handle this. His skin was alive with sensation, shivers running down his spine and leaving goosebumps.

But what could be said? He knew, from earlier conversations, that Kian was simply unaware of his actions. This now, wasn't even the first time that the other had shown such seeming affection. Affection that was more ignorance than invitation.

Finally, he leaned forward, pulling away, yet subtly, with reason. Picking up the tea pot, he refilled his cup, then looked to Kian, "More?"

Perhaps, when he sat back, the other would not be so inclined to sit close.

Kniene, happy to see his son share comfort with a friend, did not register the boy's discomfort, but focused his attention on Patrick.

"My Lady is Autumn, Mistress of Change. And so, Autsu is twice blessed by her. First as a child, second as a soul in transition. I was led to Archie at her behest. A gift, and a blessing."

He then looked from Kian to Ade, giving both a smile. "And how do you come to have the family you do? You mentioned more children."

Sethos, meanwhile, was charmed by the child near him. He petted the boy's hair with gentle affection, and nodded seriously at the young one's statements. Sussare, ever curious, made her way down his arm, to get a closer look at the young boy.

Tea, then. Autsu could do that much. Indeed, he poured tea with surprising grace, his hands steady as he carefully refilled Kian's cup before replacing the tea pot in its place of honor.

Autsu was not blind. Or perhaps, it was better said that his blindness was specific and selective. Kian's seeming nervousness was not lost on him, and was, in fact, a concern. It was not Kian's place to be nervous. Kian had nothing to be nervous about. This strange pressure of need was his and his alone, and as previous conversations had demonstrated, was not something that Kian could understand.

So why that look? In his concern for his friend, Autsu was nearly able to put aside his own feelings. Was able, at least, to put his hand firmly on Kian's shoulder, and tilt his head slightly to the side, a gesture of inquiry. "After tea, we will talk, ally. Without so much distraction."

Perhaps that would reassure the other, even if it terrified him.

Kniene, meanwhile was not entirely unaware of the boys' difficulties, but what was to be said. He did not know why they might be lost, but he did know their paths were their own to find. He would give them space, and Autsu would come to him, if he needed to do so. For now, he spoke with Patrick.

"The lady trusts you greatly, to send so many of her favored ones to you." A smile, and if it was sad it was also the smile of a man who had faith. Faith in the world, even when it worked strangely, even when it worked against him. "I am glad our sons have brought you to this home."

The thing about Kniene was he meant things. He had never lived in a world that required lies of him. His goddess had wrapped him in gentle dreams, spun of love and truth. His people had followed him as a symbol of that same goddess, and he had led them with her love. When he said he was glad for Patrick's visit, it was said with clear and simple sincerity. Patrick, and his entire family, were welcome here.

"Ssss." Echoed Sussare, managing to sound less like a snake and more like a woman imitating a child imitating a snake. She was within reach of his hands now, and her tongue tested the air, tasting the child's scent and finding it fitting.

Autsu, of course, remained unaware of his friend's realizations, though perhaps he helped them by refolding his hands around his tea cup, and doing his best to leave space between himself and Kian. The salute he mimiced, lifting his own cup slightly, before draining its contents.

Not the polite way to drink tea. No grace, as he'd earlier showed pouring it. Restless energy was taking charge, and one of his legs bounced rapidly, though he seemed unaware of his fidgiting.

"It must be difficult, to be a parent here." Kniene agreed, as if he were somehow seperate from the label, or as if, perhaps, he did not really consider himself as part of 'here'. "My people, we are all parents. The children share tents, and we share the responsibility of their care. It is easier for them, sometimes to be seperate. They do not always come to us prepared to give trust."

A pause, which grew longer as he rested his hands on the table top, sensing through the minute vibrations his son's growing restlessness. "And perhaps our own boys would benifit from such an arrangement. Please, Autsu, bouncing makes me uneasy. Do help Kian get settled in your room."

It was with such phrases that the young alien had the young alien come to associate 'please' with 'no'.

Sethos, meanwhile, kept his attention on Ade and Sussare. Amused by his familiar's antics he unwrapped the snake from his wrist, and held her out to Ade. Performing one of her many tricks, she grew smaller in his grip. "You may take her."

Rare words, from the desert born.

And of course, Autsu was a young boy. Or at least, possessed that form. But he was also an adult, holding a soul and a mind that had known too much pain and too much experiance for him to succeed over well in acting out a second childhood. Indeed, to succeed in any part of it.

And the look he gave Kian as he stood in turn, a look that held a tangled mess of surpressed longing, comradely affection, and self loathing, was no look a child should ever wear.

"Than I shall lead you through this house, and you must lead me through the woods." His words, unmatched to his expression, were almost light. Even his tone was light.

Those still seated at the table were afforded a half bow, if not a smile. "We will be near, should you need us."

And then he turned, to lead Kian down the hallway, and in to what little sanctuary he had on this world.

And that sanctuary was not much to look at. The walls were a deep blue. The desk was dark wood, as was the stool that sat in front of it. The covers on the simple, though not small, bed were gray. Off to one corner, a rack for weapons, and he had them. Knives, swords, a staff, a gun. His father took the Lady's words quite seriously.

Nothing was adorned. No pictures hung on the wall. But if it felt empty, it was an emptyness of things more than one of humanity.

"I am learning, some." Autsu responded, taking a seat on the floor beside his bed, and looking up at his friend from that distance. "That one shoots projectiles. We had something similar, back home. But the... mechanism... was different."

"Father is teaching me the staff and the knives. The others, I do not yet have teachers for."

He ran his fingers through the thick carpet as he spoke, combing out the fibers to see the patterns of interuptions he could make. Once again, he found himself alone with this other. This friend who was so much a threat to everything that Autsu was trying to remember. This friend who often seemed his only hope for comradeship and sanity.

And so they were talking again of weapons and battle. It didn't surprise him. They both seemed to cling to that familiar ground.

"I improve slowly. It is frusterating."

"I too, sleep on my back, or my side." Autsu admitted, though he did not want to be speaking of beds with Kian. Did not want to look toward Kian's three eyes and discuss anything that might even remotely relate to beds. But he kept talking because the other option was thinking, and he didn't want to think. "My tail was not such a problem. But it was spiked differently than yours."

And then he was looking at Kian's tail, and thinking of his wings, and trying to figure out how, or if, two such forms could even properly...

fit.

Which filled his mind with suggestions for such fitting, and left him to look desperately around the room, for anything, anything at all that might allow him to follow some purer train of thought.

And his comrade deserved so much better from him than this.

He reached under the bed, pulled out the simple box he kept there, and opened it. A half dozen pictures. The first, he held out to Kian.

"The image of me they sent my father."

Oh, s**t. If Kian was trying to pick the words to make Autsu uncomfortable, he couldn't have done better. Well, sure, he could have. He could have said 'I want you to take me right now' or alternately 'I want to take you right now'. But within the realm of things that Kian might actually be caught saying, what he had said ranked pretty high on the list of things that Autsu did not want to here.

He did not look up. He did not look up because he could not look up. Not now. Maybe not ever. He had not, in fact, been attractive, not by the standards of his own planet anyway. Di' soldiers were not built to be attractive, they were built to be servicable. Narin had wanted him for his fire, not his looks.

"Stabbing, not cutting." He corrected, but his voice was wrong. Devoid of emotion because Autsu had picked up the small box, and was now shuffling through the contents. Digging the knife deeper because he was the only enemy he had left.

And sometimes friendship was so much more the threat.

Another picture. This one was a pencil sketch, drawn with striking realism. Narin. Narin, with no spikes, and horns that were more decoration than threat. Narin whose body was lithe and slight and perfect, who stared out of the picture with haughty pride and perfect confidence.

Sussare had drawn it, and others, after walking through his dreams.

He held the picture out to Kian. He wasn't sure why he was doing this. Just to hurt himself? For the sake, at last, of honesty? Or perhaps just to give Kian enough sense of his past to make the other boy no longer wish his comradeship.

He was not above sabatoging the things he cared about.

"He is what my people would call attractive. Not I." And he looked up, because he'd handed the knife to Kian now. And he needed to know how the blow might come.