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It is a crisp, cool afternoon when the man knocks on the servants entrance of the lord's home -- and what a picture he presents! He asks for an authority high enough to purchase "gifts for the noble lords," and so strange is he that the servants may comply. There is something entrancing about him, something darkly mysterious .. although there is something frightening about him, too. He is a tall man, with the straight and serious lines of muscles beneath his tight-fitting suit, and there can be no doubt that his clothing was tailored to his broad frame, for the standard stock of clothing would not have fit him. That he can afford a tailored suit is as much a mark of his wealth as the fine materials of the outfit, a starkly black uniform that makes him somber, serious, and surprisingly handsome despite his somewhat craggy face. His hair is white and smooth and straight, held back from his face with a bit of dyed leather, and there is a strange crate at his feet, painted black and silver, with holes in the top as if there is something alive on the inside.

And he will wait patiently for someone to come to speak to him -- not just any someone, either. He won't accept a cook or a doorman or a butler, oh no. He wants the lord's manservant, or the head butler, someone important within the hierarchy of servants, and he is clever enough to be able to turn away those that just think that they are important. Anyone that reports him to Aris will also talk about his deep, gravely voice, and how he stares at those he speaks to like he can see inside of them. If he is a merchant of unusual goods, as he claims, he is a very strange and terrifying one, and whatever he might have in his crate must truly be marvelous .. or horrifying. It is hard to say which.

The large mansion was very busy, very busy indeed. With the talk of wolves about, and with the coming of another respectable, aristocrat on the way, there was lots to be tended to. The servents were bustling about, the chefs cooking up their finest meals, and Aris... the head of them all, was tending to important business. He walked about the marble floors with purpose and grace, his long pale blonde ponytail giving only a slight flutter with his brisk but fluid motions. He had a gaggle of servants following behind, and a few business men to whom he dealt with all at once, speaking clearly, articulately, but with drive, handing papers to a few as he signed off on them. They soon started to spill away from him and take to leaving or other duties, before he was approached by a lowly maid. She spoke of a man at the door.. someone who demanded only him. Crooking a manicured brow, Those sharp, cold eyes stared at her with a look of annoyance... but he complied and headed to the front doors.

There, Ivon would be let in, at least, until he was tended to by the young sir, who the lord of the home held in such high regards. He was dressed in the finest clothing for an assistant, and well groomed in everyway. His beauty, striking and very apparent, was intimidating enough to most along with his no nonsense attitude. When he laid his eyes upon the man in question, his long lashes gave a lethargic blink before he made hsi way on over, giving a small bow in greeting, "I believe there is something you are urgent to speak of, sir?" he used forced mannerisms, but they were smooth on his voice, trained, as he waited to hear of this business that was so important... he had better things to do, after all.

Ivon is not intimidated, though he is surprised: Aris is not what he expected. An older man, aged to his position, with white in his hair, worn thin by the worries of his duties, or made fat by the pleasures of them. That is what he expected to deal with, not a lovely little beauty with his soft gold hair and a pretty smooth voice and exquisite clothing that made Ivon's hands itch to help him remove it. The reaction is sudden, visceral, and silences Ivon for a moment before he can speak — though his expression changes not one bit as he stares. This means that Aris, like many before him, may assume that Ivon is either angry or arrogant, when in reality he is merely collecting his thoughts — that cold, solemn stare, that long moment of silence before he says a word! It can be unnerving.

"Yes," he says, with none of the eloquent courtesies commonly reserved for men of Aris's position. "I am selling something fit only for a noble lord or his family." He takes great care with every word, perhaps because if Aris listens closely there is a faint edge of an accent, something he is trying very hard to smooth out entirely. "Before I share it with you, I must have your word that you must say nothing to anyone of it. It could mean my very life."

He maintained his composed demeanor, despite his lacking patience with someone who was not expected to be arriving at the grand house. His single eye kept poised on the older gentleman, showing no sort of reaction to his presence, nor the elongated silence. Two intimidating powers seemed to negate one another in this situation. But Aris was busy, and had many things to do, no time for a silence contest. But the purpose came soon enough, and even caused that brow to crook again with surprise.

Well now, this was curious. Perhaps a scammer, or some man trying to heft off something illegal onto the family. It almost made Aris chuckle. Almost. But smiling was not a leisure he tended to venture to. He gives the older man a once over, now taking his own time to be silent, idly brushing his bangs to cover over his lacy eyepatch a little more, "I believe I will be doing that sort of deciding on my own. If it is in danger to my lord, then I will have no choice but to report of it. Surely you know how a man of high powers assistant works." he replied seamlessly, "I do not believe I even caught your name, sir." a few scurrying servants glanced at the pair, but had no time to inspect this newcomer. There was too much to do!

"If no interest have you," the man tells him promptly and icily, his tone dropping abruptly below freezing, "than no interest have I in your lack of faith. My prizes I can take to some other noble house, and to them I will give this powerful magic." Departing as he has from his planned speech, a touch more of an accent creeps into the words — not so much what he says or how he says it, but how he phrases it, carefully organizing the sentences as if their very order is foreign to him. But the sense of threat fades as quickly as it has come, and he shrugs carelessly. "Matters not to me. Is nothing dangerous is for your master: nothing dangerous for you. Your silence and a moment's privacy and I will share this with you. That is all that is asked."

From his upbringing and the childhood he'd had, hardly anything could make Aris falter, or show fear. Threats... well he was used to these on a daily basis, aimed onto his kindly lord. But... he also had his lord's best interest in him, too. Though he did not believe this man had anything they could ever need... this was a time of peril, and in which he would do what ever it took to protect the man who'd saved his life. He watched this stranger, studying him, before looking off to the side in a sort of disinterested manner, "I shall allow you a small portion of my time then. For I have plenty to do. This way." he extended an elegant arm to gesture towards a hallway just down the left of him, and guided the man to a door that lay there.

It was an empty study, a quiet place where they would have this privacy he sought. Aris was not worried of any sort of trickery, for her was quite intune with such shenanigans, and knew how to deal with them on most occasions. He placed his hand on the knob, and opened the door, but looked to the older man first, "And your name?" he asked again, before stepping aside, to gesture for this business man to go in before him... he was courteous as a host, after all.

Ivon's dark eyes flash for a moment with some greater passion before it fades entirely, leaving his face as blank and bland as it was when Aris first arrived. In truth, he must suppress a feeling of unease, for all that he is the one who had made the threat; he has never met someone to cause such sudden rises in his emotion in such a short period of time. It is .. uncanny. But he gives a mental shrug and follows smoothly along, with steps that make no noise, carrying the wooden crate as if is nothing. He does not look around him at the opulence of the lord's home, being not in the least concerned with any wealth that might be around him: no, no, the only thing he would take from this place is the man poised so gracefully in front of him!

"Ivon Skelet," he says in a low rumble, stepping ahead of Aris and into whatever room it is that lies before him. The back of his neck prickles as he does so; he has not brought any of his weapons, thinking it unwise to carry even something hidden, and his instincts are not happy with the trust he is giving Aris. So he will look around quickly as he enters, though Aris may and may not notice the fast glance he gives the room, the sort of habit that a fighter often possesses.

Once they are both in the room, he shuts the door behind them, which instantly closes out any sort of sounds that were going on outside of it. He steps further in, noting the anxious behavior of his guest, but doesn't make any fuss about it. Instead he gestures to one of the chairs for the man to sit in, while he takes a moment to tidy up the already immaculate desk that is in there... but he dare not sit in the grand chair behind it. No.

He remains standing, eye looking around the room to make sure everything is in order, before poising his gaze onto Ivon. "Mr. Skelet. Now then. What is it that brings you to my lords home with such an urgency, hm?" he asks, glancing to the box that seems to hold.. some sort of mysterious contents.

If he does not sit, neither will Ivon. Instead the taller man looks for a surface upon which to set his mysterious crate — an end table, perhaps, or the chair if there is not else. He says nothing but beckons Aris to stand closer, having merely waited in silence while Aris shuffled papers and feigned importance .. watching him all the while through hooded eyes, as if his thoughts are far and far away.

Should Aris oblige him and step closer, the top of the crate will be carefully lifted off .. revealing, seated on a satin cushion, a set of three tiny fawns. Aris's heart might contract at the sight of them: they are young, terribly young, young enough that they probably cannot eat yet, but must be fed warm milk. They wear ribbons of bright colors around their necks, and lift their little heads to look at him with big brown eyes, so meltingly warm that many a heart has stopped to see them. And Aris will know what Ivon does not think he would know — Ivon is counting on a public mad for anything like Guardians to assume that they see something that isn't there.

Because these aren't Guardians. They're actual deer. They are brave little fawns not to be utterly frightened out of their tiny little minds, and that is something special, but they are only fawns.

In truth .. if nothing else, even to one who knew they were not Guardians, this would indeed be a special and expensive gift, for it would answer to the current madness for Guardians, and seem like a tribute to them. Ivon is correct; these will sell very well indeed to the right noble, it is just his bad luck that the first person he's spoken to is a Chosen like Aris.

He does not take his gaze off of the crate, expectant for what is to be revealed, waiting for it to be some sort of trick, or weapon that may very well threaten his lords life. It is a good thing he is prepared for such things... he is the first line of defense after all, given the responsibility to look after their masters well being.

However... when the contents are revealed, he stares at the precious babies for a long while, his face not changing, though his stomach does indeed clench, if not faintly. What.. was this...? Those glossy dark eyes staring up at his single one made his lips press a little, not enough to be noticelable by anyone but himself. As he observes them, and watches their delicate bodies, he slowly looks up to Ivon, as if expecting an explination. He is a smart man, though... and can easily put two and two together.

"I suspect this is some sort of ploy, Mr. Skelet." he finally replies, his voice slightly firm, lacking any sort of amusement. Though he couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity to the younglings. Abandoned... on their own... with this man.. hopefully he was at least feeding and caring for them properly. Keeping his emotions contained, he continued, "Are you some sort of poacher, then, hm?" he inquires, slowly, gaze narrowing, "stealing young from their mothers? surely you did not think this act would succeed, did you?" now Aris, having a guardian of his own, is not aware of how foolish others can be when it comes from deciphering a true guardian from a common deer... he would feel insulted, but he doesn't. Instead... he is in fact mildly entertained by the mans attempt.. he would probably grin, if he could.

The whole thing takes on a new level of humor, looking at Ivon: he is big and gruff and rude, with sword-callouses on his hands and notches on his ears and glimpses of scars where his skin can be seen. And yet the three little fawns are chubby with pretty glossy hides, which means he is taking very, very good care of them .. and surely he was the one to tie the ribbons around them, and smooth their fur so that they would look very good when presented to their first potential buyer. What sort of sellsword could take such care of three little baby things like this?

There is a low growl in Ivon's voice when he speaks again, his shoulders going back as he stands just a bit taller. "No poacher am I," he rumbles, defiant. "Rescued, were they, when mothers by wolves were slain." This may and may not be true, but Ivon probably did not hunt them down himself; he does not look the type. More likely he paid someone else to do it for him, though his story of their mamas being killed by wolves would probably add another few gold to their price if he were making this pitch to someone else. "The care of them I have had until now, but I am undeserving. It is to worthy hands they must go."

It is a rare sight... a very, VERY rare sight indeed... as well as a sound, as Ivon explains the babies. What is to come should surely be put on record, as the usually cold, and straight faced Aris actually twitches at the corner of his lips, into a light smile... but one that is very visible. And to follow right after... is.... none other than a very soft giggle. But almost as soon as both are committed, he lifts a delicate hand to cover his lips, to do away with such an expression, calming the chuckle that wants to rise further in his chest. Embarrssed, yes, that would be the best word to describe how he felt about his reaction. Even his pale cheeks hold a faint red hue. But... goodness how comical this situation is. The man actually intends to sell these darling babies to him?

And the comparison of how rough the older man is and how adorable the infants are... only adds to the hilarity. Calming himself, Aris lightly clears his throat, pausing and closing his eye to resume his composed nature... acting as if such a reaction had never happened. "Well.." he finally lowers his hand to link with his other, lovely blonde lashes lifting to reveal that pale green eye, "I do not think that my lord is in need of any fawns. We are quite set with a guardian, you see. And surely, you are not trying to bid these young babies to be one of them, now are you?" he almost coo's... if his voice were more tender.

Ivon stares at him in rigid silence as he first smiles — then laughs! He laughs! — and though there is a flash of something in his dark eyes, he allows nothing of his thoughts to reach his expression. Only when Aris mentions that there is already a true Guardian on the premises does is there the tiniest flinch as he realizes his mistake. He should have more thoroughly researched this household before he came here! It will be a wonder if the man does not have him flogged and thrown in the goal for the insult that he has given, something that would cost Ivon not only the fawns but every copper bit that he has splurged to make this little project of his work. For all that he is a foot again taller than Aris, and could if pressed pick him up and break him in half, it is Aris that holds the power now, and there is little doubt that Ivon dislikes that! He grits his teeth and stands ramrod straight, like a soldier on parade.

" .. of course not. Rude, that would have been." His tone is sharp and he makes visible effort to soften it, drawing a slow breath before speaking again. "These — merely good luck are. Very good luck. Small gods have favor for household that saves innocents." He sounds as if he feels to be on firmer ground here, having hit upon a capital excuse for his phenomenal mistake. They're good luck. After all, they look like Guardians, right? And they're orphans. And adorable. So owning them would be a tribute to the Guardians, and draw favor from the gods themselves!

His gaze practically bores into Ivon as he waits for a response of sorts, having caught the other man in his game. How delightfully entertaining... his master would have been greatly amused as well. But he lowered his eyes to look to the darling fawns, letting one of his hands unfold to caress a silky smooth head, stroking along the oversized ears, and down a supple cheek. Very cute indeed. It did make Aris curious though... had this truly worked on other lords? well... not all of them had very intelligent adversary's. Perhaps in fields such as dealing with true buisiness men but.. probably not con artists.

He rubbed under one of the delicate chins, looking up slowly as Ivon began his new line of his feeble attempt. It was a good try, to be sure, but once he'd been outed, there was no way Aris would buy into any of his scam. "Good luck? is that so..." he thought aloud, "Well.. this house has saved plenty of innocents. So I think we have more than enough luck. Perhaps you should keep them yourself. It seems you are in need of it, Mr. Skelet." he returned right back, his tone not at all malicious, but... still clearly making a small jab at the other man.

There is a longer moment of silence this time — Ivon seems like the sort of man that must often pause before he speaks, to sort out the way the words go before he opens his mouth. Still he is watching Aris, his eyes hardly moving from the man, even though the fawn will lean contentedly into the blonde man's touch. The little thing must be very well treated, to be so trusting of a stranger's touch: it must not ever have been roughly treated, not that it remembers, or else it would have learned how to be afraid.

Finally, when the silence has stretched almost painfully long, Ivon grunts once, then holds one of his calloused hands to one of the little fawns for it to sniff and nuzzle. Aris has not yet called for a guard, or for Ivon to be thrown in chains: he has not shouted or threatened him with death .. and even if he is speaking teasingly of taking the fawns elsewhere, he is speaking of it. "Without coin, yes," he says, simply; "without luck, no. A beautiful man I have met, who is nearly as clever as he is handsome, and that is proof they bring luck."

Who cannot melt under the influence of these precious creatures? even the cold stare Aris possess doesn't seem to hold as much ice, especially when directed at the sweet little fawns. The bows are grazed faintly, giving some credit to the man for at least attempting to really sell his lie. And for keeping his 'products' in such good condition. At least he was not a heartless man.. like those in the underground with their dog fights... With the tiny fawn leaning into his hand, Aris cradled a little cheek, and let his nimble fingers scritch at the base of a long ear fondly. Perhaps this Mr. Skelet was similar to his own lord in a way... picking up stray's, one way or another.

As the other man joins in the festivities of fawn appreciating, Aris' eyes lift with surprise as words are finally spoken again, almost forgetting that there was even a conversation still being held. And the words that were uttered were shocking. Blinking a few times in a perplexed manner, Aris stared at Ivon, astonished by what he'd heard. It'd been awhile since he'd been hit on... but by this man? Ah, surely it was just a ruse to his game, "flattery will not help you in this case, Mr. Skelet, I'm afraid." he replied simply, actually quite enjoying the babies company. It was.. a nice little break, to be sure.