New Delights

[River Well]

Everyone was so busy. And tense. River couldn't stand the tension. Wren wouldn't pet it out of him, and Willbe wouldn't drug it from him either. That was reserved for special occasions apparently, like when the rut came on him. This wasn't that. But his skin was too tight and his pants too loose. Body bristling to get out. Feet leaving wear marks on the carpets until he was chased from the halls he haunted.

So he went out. Strode down streets and made the people edgy with his long legged strides and cheerful giggles. It was like they could sense what lurked beneath. The razor edge of temper. The lurking warlord prince. Easy to forget what hid behind his boyish smile and delighted temperament. But the tension of queens churned his gut. Made his hands hold things too tight. And his barriers vibrate with the need to do. But there was nothing to do. Not for River.

So he went out. Down dark alleys and through smoke shrouded doors. Into dens of inequity. Where his marks could buy him a measure of relief. Pay for women who didn't mind that he thrust off tempo. Too quick to stroke real pleasure. To eager to chase the ending to enjoy the journey to it. Endless nights of women. And on occasion a man too. When they looked too long or came too close. With them River could exert real dominance.

They never took it as keenly as the women did though. Too hard to be the softness he craved. Too hard to cushion the blows of his passion. They were tight and gritted and fought.

River laughed. A shrill whistle that cut the silence of the street like a knife. Most people were tucked nicely into their beds, all cozy and sleeping like good citizens. Not River. Arm slung over a woman in a red dress, who blew smoke like cum from her mouth. Thick, and white. It swirled up around their heads, punctuation to the bawdy joke she'd told him. River squeezed her tight and kissed the top of her head, hair messy from his attention.

"You're funny!" He praised her, grip tightening as his Ebon-grey tasted something familiar in depth. There weren't many of them. The sweep of lashes over his eyes slowed. Gaze sliding from cleavage to the street ahead. There was a fog curling close the cobbles. Like smoke from a whore's lips. "Shhhh." He crooned when she began to complain about the tightness of his grip. His hand slid down her arm, fingers dancing over the bones of her wrist before curling around the cheek of her ass.

"Well. Come out and play." He sang, giving her a pat. There was another club nearby, he knew. Maybe they were all going to the same place. Or maybe it would be a fight. He hadn't had one of those in a while. Wren abhorred violence.

[Peregrine Runner]

Things were different, even if Peregrine was not. He plotted his courses with home always on his mind. Never strayed farther than the sales he already knew. The jobs he had grown comfortable in. Not out of some new learned love for himself, but for the sake of his baby daughter. His life would mold the outcome of her life. She had already lost one parent. He couldn’t blindly throw himself into the Wind anymore.

Not that anyone could in their current state. Which had only done good things for his personal profits. Clients were plentiful. Deliveries frequent. People were staying home instead of traveling. Staying in their favorite opium dens and seedy brothels. Smoking up the supply so that the suppliers had to beg for more from a man with a golden ticket between Realms and the last quick means of transportation around.  It meant that he could spend a week running, then a month at home undisturbed. Life had snuck a routine in on him. One bound by the smile of a fat baby lips always rounded in laughter.

Birdy was not on Peregrine’s mind tonight however. He was in his best pair of pants. Boots carefully cleaned. Hair combed neatly. He didn’t own a tie or suit jacket but he looked the part of a young man out on the town. Which was what he wanted to appear as. No one needed to know about the six large crates of glass vials waiting in his psychic pocket. It was payday. Time to make deliveries in the foul heart of a rotting territory.

Moving through the light fog he stuck to the shadowed back alleys and entered through dark backdoors. Four crates were delivered to their intended recipients before he stopped to piss in an alley that smelled as if it were frequently used for just that purpose. After giving it a shake he twitched his pants back into place. Quietly waiting for a noisy couple to pass in the street. One of them had sensed him there, though. Not unusual given the weight of his Jewels. Dipping into his birthright Peregrine readied a probe. Then frowned at the streetlamp across the dusty cobblestones as the young man tried to lure him out. ”Not out for fun tonight. You’ll have to play alone.” He answered sweeping them with a shallow probe.

It slipped over the woman who was uncomfortable. Then paused over the darker presence of the boy. Peregrine hummed in minor amusement, stepping into the light. Brows twisted up as he considered the warlord prince. ”You’ll bruise that girl if you keep groping at her like that.” There was no promise of rescue in the warning. No threat or emotion at all. She might have been a piece of fruit for all the concern in his voice. Not that Little Terrielle was having any luck with fruit. But Peregrine had a keen eye for the unintentional reactions of warlord princes. So he reminded this one, just as he reminded his own brother when it was necessary. ”Have a nice night.”

Turning on his heel he followed the sidewalk, keeping close to the buildings. The next club was close by. They were his biggest clients in the city too. Both of his remaining cases were destined for their stores.