Catching some attention [Daniel]

[Gareth nó Valerian]

There was always some sort of business going on between my House and Mandrake and while many of the newer adepts, or the softer ones, couldn't always be trusted to keep to their tasks when sent to deliver messages or the like I was far from that type. I'd had my pleasures here many times, and while they memories of them made me smile I was no longer bound by the things I once had been. I'd dressed as well as I always did, my clothing crisp and clean, my short hair brushed neatly flat, my steps graceful and quiet against the marble floors. I didn't know at all what information was in the missive I carried but that wasn't my concern. I had only to give it to whatever attendant was standing at the door of the Dowayne's office and then go. Easy enough work.

It seemed that none of the adepts about at this time were inclined to make any kind of trouble for me, which I would have both worried over and secretly enjoyed, but once I was making my way down the hall with empty hands and my eyes slightly downcast that seemed to bring them in droves. Now I didn't have a time frame to be back as far as some of them were concerned and that meant anything could happen. I was past the day when I'd take risky chances, especially in another House with their own rules. Nevertheless the Mandrakes I passed watched me for a moment, and a thrill of anticipation moved over my skin unbidden, a flush following it. I had control over myself, but I was still a Valerian, and this was the wolves' den.

My steps stayed steady though and I refused to let my lusts or my intimidation get the best of me as I continued, looking up slightly with a smile on my face. This was far from the worst time I'd had and I wasn't going to let some of the more abrasive adepts bring down my spirits. I was done with letting things get to me.

[Daniel nó Mandrake]

It was another thrilling day at Mandrake house.

My personal theory is that we don't have enough hobbies but then I suppose it would rather ruin the affect when the patrons came calling if we were all sitting around crocheting whip holders and gluing sequins on our flechettes.

By Elua, I was bored. Almost enough to wish I had more patrons, since at least then I'd have something (or someone) to do. Almost enough to make me think of putting quill to paper. Almost enough to make me consider trying to talk to one of my fellow adepts. Almost. Almost. Almost. But never quite enough.

Besides, I don't wish to do my colleagues disservice (or perhaps I do) but talking to your average Mandrake is about as entertaining as sticking your hand in a fire. Yes, you'll probably feel something after a while, but mainly you'll be left asking yourself “why did I do that?”

But then the atmosphere changed. Like the way the first flash of lightning cuts the air before a storm. There are only a handful of things that do that – the arrival of a wealthy patron looking for something new, that lemon meringue pie they occasionally serve on Thursdays … and, oh yes, a Valerian wandering the halls like a lamb to the slaughter.

For the record, I've seen Valerians before. Unlike some of the younger adepts, I am actually able to physically prevent myself from rushing immediately to the site of the excitement, like a knight in pursuit of a unicorn. We're not all complete losers.

But, yes all right, I'll admit it: in the absence of anything better to do, I went to look at the Valerian.

No lamb this one, it seemed. Not even the snottiest adepts dared hassle him, although he must have noticed the hungry stares and avid eyes, even if it didn't shake his self-possession. From the way some of the adepts talk you'd think you only had to glare at a Valerian to have him drop to his knees in worship. Watching this one's careful progress down the corridor, I couldn't imagine it.

And then, because … well … I don't know actually, because I was bored, because I knew it would annoy every other Mandrake in the vicinity, and because what the hell, I stepped out in front of him, grinned, and said:

“You'll have to forgive us We don't get out much so some fellow delivering a message is a massive deal around here.”

[Gareth nó Valerian]

Things were going well enough and I was ignoring most of the various whisperings, and some of them didn't even bother with lowering their voices. It was simply how Mandrakes were. If they didn't have their confidence a good number of patrons wouldn't have understood them in the same way that if some didn't have Valerians crawling on the floor most of the time it was beyond their understanding of submission. That didn't give them an excuse outside of the assignation chamber but it was as it was and trying to change it was not the goal for today.

A moment later there was a body in my vision and I stopped to look at whoever it was- another man, likely a Mandrake but smiling like I'd only seen a few do, especially in their free time. There was a certain relaxed confidence to him as well, and his handsome features didn't seem suited to glaring or even scowling overly much, which made me smile a bit in turn. All of that with his words on top brought a fresh grin to my own lips and a straightened slightly. Unless he was faking this in order to get me to say something, but there was no reason not to think he was sincere either.

"I'm not sure many adepts get out much," I replied in a pleasant tone, meeting his gaze for a moment and then glancing away just slightly to look at the lower portion of his face. Well, his lips really, but it was as safe a place to look as any and they were lovely. Already I could hear some more muttering but I refused to let a flush come to my cheeks and hearing some amusement in my voice as I continued. "It's all forgiven, though I wonder at times if Mandrakes aren't taught to whisper. Some never seem to manage it." With all of the ones nearly yelling their catcalls I had no doubt he could tell what I meant.

[Daniel nó Mandrake]

Ah, a smile in return. I was surprised the walls didn't crack with alarm – we'd already exceeded the prescribed daily quota. I wasn't exactly surprised to see that flash of amusement – there's something about my face, I think, that makes people inclined to smile at it, which, incidentally, is a completely useless talent for a Mandrake. I should probably practice scowling more; I'd get more patrons. Perhaps I'd even get more respect from my fellow adepts. It's not like they say: “There goes Demetrius, he's got a lovely smile!”

When I said I'd seen Valerians, I wasn't lying. I'd seen them. At a showing. Visiting other Mandrakes. In the street, possibly. I'd not, however, had much opportunity to interact with one. And I had to take a moment to remind myself that members of other houses were individuals, not a homogeneous community. All the same, this one's habit of staring at the lower half of my face was slightly disconcerting. Did they train them to do that?

I shouldn't have smiled at him. Maybe that was the problem. He was trying to work out what had gone wrong. He was probably going to go back to Valerian and be all “hey, fellow yielders, guess what, I went to Mandrake today and some random adept jumped out of the woodwork and started grinning at me.” Naamah's tits, I'm such a fool sometimes.

Which was a bit of a shame. I'd only jumped out of the woodwork in the first place because I wanted to shame everybody who'd only dared to gaze and mutter as he walked past. But, actually, there was something about him that pleased me. Maybe it was just the natural pull of like-to-unlike but there was a sort of stillness to him. We don't get much of that around here. There's more harmony in a hornet's nest.

And. Well. My nature is what it is. I'm sure most people see a tranquil pool and think “how beautiful”. Whereas I want to throw a stone in it and watch the chaos. I want to affect the universe, not merely observe it. Hell, I want to make it mine.

And by 'universe' you understand, in this context, I meant: 'random passing Valerian'.

I'm such a cliché.

But I'd started out by trying to be funny so I was stuck with it now.

“Of course we're not taught to whisper,” I said, in mock astonishment, and not especially quietly either. “Everybody knows that the only way to get people to do as you say is to yell at them. The louder you talk, the more commanding you are. It's a fact.”

[Gareth nó Valerian]

For a moment there was tension in the air and I wondered at it, then flushed slightly and glanced back up at the Mandrake's face to see what I could there. Pleasant features, that was true, handsome ones, but a smile could be a mask in its own way and I wondered about his eyes. As beautiful as they were I knew the meaning of them, and I repressed a small shiver at it. I wasn't afraid, there was no reason to be, though I had to wonder if this was some trick or amusement of all of those gathered. Perhaps I would enjoy it but knowing it was to be expected was one thing. Beig tricked- well, the pride could be a sensitive thing.

And as much as some Mandrakes believed we didn't have any pride of our own, we did.

The more I looked at him though the more I wondered if he was simply puzzled by me, in much the same way I had been wondering about him, and I remembered all of the different Mandrakes I'd met in my life. All of them were a little different, but this man was the most different of them all that I'd seen so far, starting with his smile that stayed in place. It seemed so natural, and from what he was saying there was no love lost between him and the others here. Their own words and the way they watched with a sort of venomous but bored interest told me of that.

There was always that pull too, one I recognized and could have followed, but for now I reined myself in. He could command me, even if he was smiling and cheerful at the time, and I would follow his orders. What would he be like, what would he choose to have me do? Not questions for today, because I still belonged to my House and wouldn't betray that, but the thought was still there and my pulse raced a little bit for it.

Or perhaps it was that I was being too forward, and too cheerful, but once started I wasn't going to exactly stop either. That would have been suffusing a part of myself and I refused to do that any longer. I'd spent time hiding my feelings, arguing against my own emotions and sense, and that was done. Those lessons had made me more bitter than I had been when I was younger and more naive, but they were part of who I was. Calm, steady, responsive, hopeful.. And the one who stood before me seemed bright and passionate and full of life, like the fire I feared in myself at times.

But the conversation was continuing and I smiled a bit more shyly, the flush still on my cheeks. I could have said any number of things, but I chose the one that I found the most honest and sincere. "Yelling can make a person deaf to anything underneath though. A command only needs intent and confidence, and I would never doubt those things." At least not in you.

[Daniel nó Mandrake]

“Ah,” I responded, quickly, “but that's covered in Not Being A Prick 101, which is an optional course.”

A flush, now. Even more revealing than a smile, perhaps. There was a fascination to watching him, chasing down the minute variety of his responses, trying to fathom what they meant. Or just collecting them, like a seashells on the beach. Did they train them to do that, eh? To be so damnably expressive. It was hard to watch him and not imagine other scenarios for making him flush, smile, gasp, cry out, beg...time to stop thinking, Daniel. No. Really. Time to stop thinking.

It's bad enough not being able to prevent yourself grinning like a loon but even worse when you can't stop yourself from getting The Mandrake Look. It has its place when you're in an assignation, I'm sure it's part of what they pay for, but you can't go around glittering hungrily at people in corridors – especially when it seems that they might just be repressing a shiver. I mean, what's next on the agenda? Casual social snarling?

Except there was something in the way he finally looked at me, as if he was studying me, perhaps as closely as I was watching him, and I realised I could try to be as funny as I damn well pleased, but he was on his guard. Who could blame him in the current environment? And despite my attempts to distance myself I was still a Mandrake. A part of this. No point pretending otherwise. Yes, I hadn't catcalled but only because other people had.

Wary and likeable and smiling and calm – such a peculiar combination of attributes. To be honest, not what I would ever have expected, but then I've always gone out of my way not to be what was expected either. Perhaps that was part of the appeal: a burning desire to get beneath all of that and find something raw, and real.

Is that in the training, too, I thought a little hysterically. If so, I have been sorely under served in my years at Mandrake. What to do with enigmatic Valerians, having started awkward conversations with them, was certainly not included.

“So...” I said, “What brings you to Mandrake? Apart from the message in your hand. Which you're clearly delivering. Which has brought you to Mandrake. Nice weather though, isn't it?”

Oh. Shit.

[Gareth nó Valerian]

I'd known some Mandrakes who seemed light-hearted enough to take their House with a little bit less insufferable pride than others did. Dominique had been one of those, getting along with others but refusing to give into their rules on everything, though that could have been because she was raised at Valerian for a portion of her life. Dominique, who was dead now. Better not to think on that though, not in this atmosphere. She was in a better place I was sure, or at least I hoped. Besides, with how I'd been behaving lately it was better she wasn't around to see it.

My attention stayed on the Mandrake before me even as my thoughts tried to stray, and smiled more widely for a moment at his first statement. I wouldn't have been brave enough in most cases to call any Mandrake a prick, at least not to their face, but such was the competition within the Houses themselves. There were a few Valerians I thought could use a similar class but that wasn't the point here.

In truth I was far more interested in how his eyes flashed for a moment, keeping the flush on my cheeks and a lump in my throat. It was my instinct to try and discover what he wanted from me, but this was a hallway in Mandrake, not somewhere more private. If the latter had been the case though I'm sure I would have given into that urge. Some people needed to shout to make you listen, some only needed to whisper and for a very special few they needed no words at all.

My own urges pulled at me but I resisted them because there was nothing else to be done, nothing to show but courtesy and perhaps some kindness or flirting, but I could do nothing more. Not without starting something I couldn't finish and I liked this one's smile too much to see it turn into something more strained.

The more his eyes bore into me the more I looked back at him, letting this man see as much as he wanted and learning something of him as well. I could see daring in him, and more of that same enthusiastic passion with some desire- oh gods Gareth, if you go any further into that you'll forget yourself. I couldn't help but imagine him with a lash though, or a rope, and me doing his whims.

When he started speaking again I broke the gaze slightly and listened to him closely, though the stumbling sort of circular conversation touched me with his discomfort. Had I offended him, made some mistake, or was he bewildered by me? Mandrakes had their pride too and I would never call him out in that fashion but there was a sort of sweetness in the way his focus on me had set his mind to spinning, if that was indeed what it was. If not then it was even better that I didn't say anything.

"The weather is nice enough, warm," I replied in a quiet tone, flush still on my cheeks though my tone was still calm. "My name is Gareth and I'm here to deliver this message from Valerian for your Dowayne. Could I ask you to point me in the right direction?" I knew where it was already but I wanted to speak with him some more, if only to see if some of that humor returned. It reminded me of myself before everything that had happened.

[Daniel nó Mandrake]

Well, Valerian to the rescue it was. If our positions had been reversed, I'd probably have laughed – not out of cruelty but because the the ridiculous demands amusement, and I was pretty ridiculous right now. There was probably an important moral lesson in it. Something about accosting people in hallways. Or trying too hard to make yourself look good at the expense of people who are basically just like you.

All the same, the idea of Valerian To The Rescue tickled me sufficiently that I didn't quite dissolve into a puddle of mortified pride. The musical accompaniment – frothing with absurd flourishes but not too annoying – was playing so vividly in my head that I almost forgot the notion was nothing but a whim of my own imagining And I certainly wasn't about to object to Valerian To The Rescue – not, at any rate, if I got follow it up by dragging him off his white charger and … well … yes.

Of course, flights of fancy aside, his behaviour revealed something considerably more complicated: the truth that he was kind. I don't think I've ever met anyone kind before. It seems like such an abstract quality. I mean, what do you do with kindness, as a giver or a receiver.? It felt as though he'd done something completely outlandish, as if he'd given me a live duck in the middle of Mandrake.

Deliberately or not, he'd also given me an escape route. I could wave a lofty hand and say “over there” and then lock myself in my room and dedicate myself to the Cassiline order. But he was still a little flushed, and the part of me that Kushiel claims recognises that kind of thing instinctively. There was just the faintest hint, the faintest hint, that he didn't find me too much of an idiot. Something in his eyes, I think. Perhaps there is a Valerian Look to match the Mandrake Look, and this was it. I have to confess, if it was, I liked it. It was like a half-unwrapped present – full of promises, and encouragement to rip away the wrapping.

“I'll take you,” I said. Thankfully I had learned the under appreciated art of not yelling, but there was no hiding the fact that I wasn't exactly offering politely. I was taking him, whether he wanted it or not. Um. “To the Dowayne's I mean...” I added, catching up to myself abruptly. “Not in this corridor now or anything.”

Oh no. Not again.

I took a deep breath, and a private vow not to talk to anyone who wasn't paying me for it ever again, pushed the boy who just wanted to sit in a garden somewhere writing music aside, and summoned back the man who has had several powerful and wealthy people begging and weeping under his untender ministrations.

“This way,” I said, with commendable control.

[Gareth nó Valerian]

Whatever else the Mandrake was thinking there was a sort of response to my statement- not one of rejection, but of further intensity that both cheered and exhilarated me. Part of that was no doubt who I was, part of it my training- but the other part was his nature. I didn't even know his name yet, but I knew other things instead. There was the confidence of his stance, the way his eyes were flashing just now, the deeper notes of his voice..

Another near-shudder moved over my flesh and I managed somehow not to bite my lip in reaction to it, my posture still composed and relaxed for the moment. I could hear muffled footsteps along the hall where some of the watchers seemed to be getting bored with the fact that I wasn't either crying, falling down or gasping for breath. I didn't think all of them expected it but since I hadn't fulfilled that fantasy they had other work to do- especially since I'd focused my attention on the one person standing in front of me.

He deserved my attention more anyway. At least he wasn't treating me like this was some solitary showing on how to recognize a Valerian in passing. Perhaps I was being too sensitive about their attention but that was my right, wasn't it? They weren't my patrons or my lovers, or at least I hadn't seen any of them in passing, and that meant I had a right to be myself.

And then he spoke once more and my flush deepened just a bit, and I ducked my head for a moment. Of course he instantly corrected himself and I let that go without another word, but it had brought a certain image to mind that was entirely too enticing. There was this hint that he'd somehow seen that too...

The next moment it was gone and I raised my eyes to him again, nodding in agreement and stepped next to him. By now the caution I'd had toward him before was gone and I was more intrigued than anything by his presence and his reactions. He could have said no, or simply pointed vaguely and moved on, but instead he'd stayed, even if it was under his own terms and even with some vigor. When composed he seemed sure of himself but I'd seen past that, if even for a brief moment, and I watched him intermittantly from the corner of my eye as we walked. I'd seen past that though, to something deeper, and I liked it. Something told me I would have even under different circumstances and without the slight heat running through my blood.

Taking one steadying breath I looked over at him with another smile, cocking my head slightly as I took him in. "Could I possibly know your name?" I asked in a sedate tone. Would he refuse for some reason that I would have to guess, possibly just being a Mandrake and needing the control one of them, or would he tell me and further that connection? Only his answer would tell me that. "Then when I thank you I'll know who I'm grateful of. And who to count on for a sense of humor if I come back this way again."

[Daniel nó Mandrake]

Wow. I'd been so preoccupied with jumping into conversational holes, then clawing my way out of them again, and thinking about the flush on his cheeks, and the smile on his lips, and the delicious tremor running through his body, and, on top of all that, fantasising wildly about what exactly it would be like to have him at my mercy, all for me, that I'd entirely failed to tell him my name.

It crossed my mind that I could pretend it had all been part of the game. I'm pretty sure there are some who would have found it tantalising for me to withhold my name like a piece of chocolate, something for them to earn. I'm not, in general, adverse to games but this was one I would not, for myself at least, choose to play. As for the Valerian – Gareth, I should think of him as Gareth - I suspected he would have taken it, but I knew he wouldn't have liked it. And I probably couldn't have faced his clear-eyed, jewel-bright gaze and tried it. That's the problem with a seemingly still lake. Fun though it is to make ripples, it also shows you your reflection.

“That was rude of me,” I said. If there hadn't still been people listening in – although, blessedly, at least there were less of them – I might have even said sorry. “I'm Daniel. Nó Mandrake, obviously. But you don't have to thank me for anything.” (Not that I couldn't imagine him thanking me, oh so gratefully, under a different set of circumstances... I really had to stop thinking). “It's not exactly an imposition to walk someone down a corridor. I think I can fit into my hectic schedule of hanging around aimlessly.”

On the contrary, it was pleasant. I could actually see myself, perhaps in some other life, walking with him like this, as friends. Talking about ordinary things. I liked the idea so much I almost took the 'scenic' route to Ignace's office – but that would have been genuinely pathetic, so I didn't. It's just sometimes one loses track of everyday pleasures, walking side by side with a man who doesn't bore you senseless, and isn't only there to prove he's a bigger Mandrake.

“Here it is,” I said, cheerfully, as we approached. “Ignace's office. Now, it's not mandatory to abase yourself before the door itself but do feel free if the aura of manly dominance is simply too overwhelming.” And, then, remembering I was supposed to be being helpful I added: “Oh, and you can leave your message there, unless it has to be delivered personally, in which case I'd better leave you to it."

[Gareth nó Valerian]

That he even acknowledge that he ever thought he'd made some sort of mistake, whether or not he agreed with that fact, was something of a surprise to me and I smiled a bit more warmly as I met his copper-colored gaze with my own oceanic one. I could only wonder what those looking at us saw with the contrast of hair, eyes and skin but nevertheless at ease walking next to one another and casting occasional sidelong glances. I wasn't an artist, at least not past playing the lute or lyre when I had time and no inclination to leave Valerian but I thought it would have been something of an interesting picture.

Perhaps even a lovely one, but that would have been overreaching myself somewhat and sounded arrogant on top of it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Daniel," I replied with a wider smile, glad that he hadn't decided to withhold said information. "And whether or not it was an imposition wasn't known to me at that point, but please don't feel as though you were being rude. I was the one making an unintentional stir in your House from existing outside of the normal routine." There was some humor in my tone, a gentle sort of self-deprecating teaing that I wondered how he would respond to, whether it would make him warm more or dim his inner light.

For myself I hoped it would bring out more of his true nature, that one which had intrigued and attracted me though I didn't show it as starkly as some of my Housemates may have. Yes, I was a Valerian, but that didn't mean I couldn't have a sense of self-possession, did it? Of course according to some we only existed for those time when we were under their control, and otherwise waited until the next strong hand came along to thing for us.

Some of my Housemates may have seemed that way, but not me.

When we arrived at the door Daniel gestured to it and spoke his piece, and a quiet chuckle left my lips and handed the note to one of the attendants standing nearby. Trinette and Ignace had always gotten along well enough, or so I understood, and I had no orders to wait for the reply so it couldn't have been a pressing matter. "No, I think I will save my abasement for something a bit more appreciative than a bit of wood," I said with that same carefully jesting tone as before, bringing my now-empty hand up to brush back my short hair. "Does this mean your hectic schedule of hanging around has suddenly filled up and we'll be parting ways?"

[Daniel nó Mandrake]

His smile was openly warm now, I noticed – I had been right not to try and play silly games with him. At least not that sort of silly game. Other silly games, and games not so silly … well … I was glad to see that, despite his composure, he was not above teasing back. It was a shame we’d left the crowd behind, I would have enjoyed the idea of some of my fellow adepts over-hearing his gentle mockery. Assuming, of course, they even noticed they were being mocked. It was a problem I’d encountered often in talking to my colleagues.

I stole another sidelong look at him, wondering how many times I could get away with doing that before it crossed the border of creepy. Or turned into outright staring. I just liked looking at him. Perhaps it was the pleasure of an unfamiliar face. Or perhaps it was him. It seemed that, in my way, I was as bad as my fellows.

At his words outside Ignace’s office, however, I couldn’t help laughing, a hand flying instinctively to my mouth to prevent the escape of the sort of appalling innuendo that would undoubtedly send him fleeing from my puerile sense of humour and general lack of taste. The worst of it was, that I knew he hadn’t meant anything by it, and here I was giggling like an adolescent at a naughty word. “Oh, I can’t believe you just said that,” I said, when I had breath enough to speak. “It was like an open invitation to sleaze and you should think yourself very lucky that I am a mature and refined person who would never ever in a million years stoop to such levels.” I paused. “But, y’know, if you ever want to find some appreciative wood…arrgh.”

Yep, it was official: Mandrakes didn’t get out enough. I hoped to Elua he knew I was joking – for all he could tell, this might be my seduction technique. Not that I had a seduction technique. He probably did though – from the way his hand moved through his hair, drawing attention to the clean lines of his neck, it certainly seemed that way. I might have been staring again.

I cleared my throat. “Actually my punishing schedule of hanging around and make terrible jokes has a few gaps in it. So unless you need to run away… I mean … rush off I could show you the sights of Mandrake.”

[Gareth nó Valerian]

The laugh that came from the Mandrake- Daniel's- mouth surprised me for a moment and I could only watch him, noticing how there wasn't a bit of malice or spite in it, but seemed to be filled completely with nothing but amusement. I never doubted for a moment that he could shame me if he wanted, turn anything I said to his own devices because that was what Mandrakes seemed trained to do in some ways, but he wasn't. Perhaps it was only that most of them Mandrakes I'd met I'd only seen in showings or reciprocal arrangements and rarely in public settings. Then again most of them didn't seem to enourage it either...

When he made his own quip a fresh blush, though a light one, came to my cheeks and I chuckled quietly to myself as I admitted that, yes, I should have realized how that could come out. Then again I wasn't at all bothered that I gave him the chance to laugh, or to make another joke of his own. The tones of his voice were rich and supple, and no matter whether he was being confused or amusing or prideful I liked to hear them. It made me wonder though what he would sound like hoarse with pleasure and with a note of command in it...

shaking the thought from my mind before it drew me toward doing something rash and very nearly close to punishable in this situation I glanced back at him, my hand falling from my hair to rest at my side. "Well, when I have a craving for that sort of appreciation I'll keep that in mind," I said in a slightly lower tone, then looked down before glancing back up at him and around. His eyes just drew me back to them, though I knew it was strange to most that a Valerian would be capable of that at all, and generally I kept my gaze averted slightly, especially here.

It was easier than possibly offended them or them thinking of it as some sort of come-on anyway.

Daniel didn't seem to think that way though, and that made him a singularly unique creature. I admired that in more than just a few ways. "I wouldn't run away," I answered, wondering if it was too indecent to hope that it would give us more time to talk in private. I was past that, and I wasn't going to let myself slip again. Adepts were notoriously fickle, especially Mandrakes. "Thank you, I'd like to take a look around. You seem like you'd know the best things to see."

Besides, even a conversation with someone who didn't seem to want to put up more barriers than there already were was a blessing enough without having to necessarily complicate it.

[Daniel nó Mandrake]

Oh those eyes. I loved the directness of his regard. I know it's just another type of game to force someone to look away from you, and I've played that one too, but it strikes me as devil's bargain. I don't trust deferentially lowered eyes – it's a semblance of submission, nothing more. It conceals too much. I'd prefer to have someone looking right back at me. I'd rather look into their eyes and see pain, desperation, hate, fear, pleasure, truth, than a pretty pose that means nothing and tells me nothing.

Besides, we were two adepts talking in a corridor. What difference did it make if one of us liked to hurt, and the other liked to be hurt? If I'd been made other than I was we'd still have been two adepts talking in a corridor, except one of us would like to be hurt, and the other would like to write music.

I was also pretty sure he was flirting with me, especially during those moments when his gaze would snag with mine, and hold it. It was pointless, of course, since we didn't weren't exactly at liberty to pursue our inclinations and I've never bothered with reciprocals, but sometimes the most apparently purposeless things are the sweetest. It takes a certain sort of person to appreciate the value of the meaningless, and to enjoy it regardless.

Of course, the downside to all this was that I'd volunteered myself for a tour of Mandrake. We do get the history of the place, of course, as well as what to do if there's a fire or you inflict grievous bodily harm on another adept for looking at you funny but I hadn't been paying much attention. I'd have been more comfortable showing him round Eglantine, though I hadn't been there in nearly ten years. I don't think I'll ever forget the scent of the cherry blossom trees.

“Well...” I said, taking a stab at it anyway. “Demetrius's door is over there. It's not quite Ignace's door, of course, but some people prefer it. And, um, this is a wall. We have lots of them around here. Some of the interior versions have brackets for the securing of manacles or the hanging of floggers and the like.”

I continued down the corridor a little further. “And this is one of our Mandrake floors. We have lots of those too. We use them for walking on. And occasionally for slamming into each other's faces.”

Inspiration finally hit. “And through this archway is the garden. Which is. Outside.”

[Gareth nó Valerian]

The tension in the air seemed to be growing thicker, but so much so that it was almost starting to be a bit more than simple teasing and glances and rather than risk pushing too far I glanced at the wall beside me for a few steps. Maybe it wasn't exactly a decorous thing to do but it did help somewhat and kept me from thinking too deeply on all of this. Right now I was only who I was, Gareth, and he was only Daniel, and there was no reason to look into things any further than that.

Then again my head had been turned by handsome men more than once anyway...

As he spoke I could only listen with bemusement as he went on about doors and such. Demetrius, there was a name I knew, and I hid another smile and paid more attention to my host as we walked on. Really, hanging floggers from the doors? I hadn't noticed that myself but then I hadn't been inside every room of this House either. Maybe they did still have some secrets up their sleeves, or down their breeches.

Why did my mind have to go there?

The floors we were walking on were solid marble and when he mentioned using them for such a purpose I couldn't help but chuckle again, well able to imagine scuffles in the hall and how violent they might well get. "I wonder what kind of argument or fight requires the use of these floors and not others?" I said in a tone of wry amusement as we continued along. "Though I'm not really surprised to find out that it would be necessary. I've heard that happens when there's so many conflicting personalities in one place. Especially tense, humorless ones." With Daniel's sense of humor and confidence I was sure he would only take that personally if he wished to and know that I hadn't intended it that way.

Once we arrived at the side portal I looked at it closely, as though to try and find a flogger hanging from it or waiting to jump out at me, then glanced back at him, another small smile on my lips. Perhaps that had been my problem all along, being too forward. Then again I'd only known him for some few minutes and it took time to adjust to the ways of a new person. "Are we going into the garden then?" I asked, looking out through the archway and then back at him with a calm smile, "Or stay in the shade and see if there's a Mandrake secret lair?"

Yes, I was confident but there was still a passive portion to my nature that had nothing to do with being a Valerian. Or mostly didn't. But I wasn't going to get to making assumptions about someone in their own House either.

[Daniel nó Mandrake]

He seemed amused by my “tour” at least but his comment about the conflicting personalities struck just a little too close for comfort. I knew he was joking, and I did smile to show I understood that but it not something that I felt entirely like laughing over. I tucked my hands behind my back as we strolled along and wondered if a little honesty would kill the mood. I decided to risk it. “Well, yes, but I'm not sure how far that's actually the case, or how far it's what we're taught we're supposed to be, or whether it's just what we expect ourselves to be. It's not like that in other houses.”

I wondered if my memories of Eglantine were nostalgia-tinted, but I remembered a harmonious overlap of interests – several of us liked music, but it just gave us something to talk about and share. I suppose the problem with Mandrake is that we all really only have one interest, and we don't like sharing.

But I looked up and Gareth was standing in the doorway, illuminated in a pale shaft of sunlight, and smiling. And the gardens of Mandrake suddenly didn't seem vastly inferior to Eglantine, nor did the corridors seem so cold. As I watched him, I was struck by the most absurd thought yet: and that was how well-mannered he was. My mother would have liked him – being the lower middle class daughter of a tradesman, married to a tradesman, she put much greater stock in good manners than the peerage, an irony I don't think she could have appreciated. But she would have thought him a very nice young man. And I thought the same thing, only for very different reasons – the instinctive ease with which he accommodated me made my blood flame, just a little. Yes, he was just asking where I wanted to go, but I could imagine how sweetly he might yield to my touch, cruel or tender as I chose to make it.

“You only get access to the secret lair when you're fully Marqued,” I said. “I'll be able to tell you what's in it in about a hundred and fifty years. Some sort of mechanical device that flies through the air on wings of steel, or so the rumour goes. Oh, and a black chair that rotates upon its axis.”

[Gareth nó Valerian]

It seemed that my comment on Mandrake hadn't gone over well, but while Daniel obviously wasn't comfortable with it he didn't get angry or snap, merely- looked as though he were truly uncomfortable with it, and explained why. Perhaps it was my own prejudices about the House, as well as a few experiences that really were taken out of context, but I would have thought he'd have a sharper temper, or at least only be good-natured until he was discomfitted.

All I could do now was smile somewhat apologetically though. I would have told him that no, not all of the other Houses were cheerful harmony. Even in Valerian we had conflicts, fights and drama and people trying to get ahead at the expense of others, or generally making life difficult from time to time. We were trained to work with people who weren't always easy to like and understand whether they were patrons, Mandrakes who were chosen for joint Showings or even other adepts in group assignations, but we still understood the difference. Who you chose to surround yourself with were the people you enjoyed, and right now I was enjoying Daniel's company very much.

Such times were reminders that it wasn't always about not having a say in the matter of anything in your life, and were savored for it.

As I stood in the doorway I couldn't help but watch him for a moment as he looked at me before speaking again. He was pleasant, handsome, honest, and there was still that light in his eyes that said there was the cruelty and control too. It might have seemed like an odd dictonomy to some because most saw those latter traits as being all-inclusive, almost as though they were polluting every other train that a person could possess, but I was a bit more pragmatic than that.

After all, I still had my pride even while I knew that at my next assignation the quest to strip it away from me again would begin anew. Some would call that a little bit insane.

Then he was speaking again and I smiled slightly. "Likely it would be a few days after you got to see it that I'd be fully marqued and therefore worthy to hear about it," I teased gently. "Though I doubt you're a hundred and fifty years out, though if what you say is the case waiting that long to see it may well be worth it."

Deciding to take the chance I took a step out of the archway and toward the garden, watching him with a wider smile as I did so. Perhaps it was completely insane to tease a Mandrake, but to call someone a friend there had to be a balance between them, didn't there? Either he would be annoyed at my forwardness and assumption or he would take it in stride and I greatly hoped for the latter. If it was the former I would do my best to make amends though. No, mind, don't go in that direction again, no matter how nice it would probably be. An apology of a more verbal sort would likely have to suffice.

[Daniel nó Mandrake]

“So this is the garden,” I said, following him into the sunlight, briefly reprising my role as The Worst Tour Guide In Terre d'Ange. “As you can see, we boast an ample supply of fountains, trees, grass, flowers, statues of famous people I ought to recognise and secluded corners for the pursuit of, for example, passing Valerians.” But I was smiling by the time I finished, so that he would know I was – for the moment, at least - all talk. I was reckless but not a complete fool, and although I couldn't put my hand on my heart and say I'd turn down in a clumsy coupling behind a hedge, it wouldn't have been the way I would have chosen to have him.

Bah. Nonsense, Daniel. In truth, if he had, by word or look, invited that particular sort of pursuit I'd have been on him like a tiger, to hell with the consequences, and maybe if I'd been 18 and less in control of myself I'd have tried it, but we were both professionals here, and dallying in hedges was beneath us. Besides, Trinette would have had my bollocks. And then Ignace would have eaten them. And I didn't want to be that kind of Mandrake: just because he was from Valerian gave me no right to see him as available me.

But I also liked him. Did that make a difference?

“My Marque grows slowly,” I admitted, turning the conversation to safer topics, although also wondering if he would think less of me. Or worse. Doubt my skills. I don't think my pride could have endured that. “But then it's not meant to be a race, is it? And I find although I don't necessarily have to desire someone to be a good adept for them, I do have to like them. I also...”

I stopped abruptly. What was wrong with me? Yes, I don't want to be something I'm not, always cold and in control, the picture perfect Mandrake, but I didn't have to babble my heart out to the first stranger with pretty eyes, did I?

“I also really like this … um …” I gazed nonplussed around us. “...bench. It's very, uh, like a bench. Useful. For sitting on.”

[Gareth nó Valerian]

All gardens in the Night Court were lovely, almost as though it was a challenge to see which was more beautiful, the people who were the Night-Blooming flowers or the actual plants themselves. Oftentimes patrons remembered us and forgot them, or sometimes used them as comparisons but to me they were just part of what the place was. Someone had said once that Valerian the plant could be used to help wounds heal, so perhaps that naming had been a bit of irony on the part of the creators of the house. After all we did get enough various injuries to make it necessary.

His last statement about the bushes drew another quiet chuckle from me and I nearly winked in understanding because, well, I could see him doing that, just as I could have once seen it in me. Some adepts were more free than others, no matter what their marques told them they should have thought on the matter, and I wondered if before my bittering if I'd have tried to subtly tempt him toward it.

That would have spelled my own doom though, and his as well, so perhaps it was good that it went on without that, though my smile did widen and I did flush as my thoughts ventured down that path for a moment. "You know, I've always thought that's what those bushes were for, but I never got anyone else to confirm it," I jested, my eyes going back to his and then away to look at a statue.

When he spoke of marques I could understand that even more clearly and nodded, keeping my eyes on him this time just because there was something in his features and his manner that always drew my gaze. That, yes, and that he seemed to need the understanding, even though I had no doubt he'd admit it. "Mine isn't exactly breaking any speed records either, but then I think the important part is that you move at your own pace. We may be Namaah's, or Kushiel's depending on how we look at it, but this is still our lives. They should be lived within the rules as we see fit."

Clearing my throat quietly I looked at the bench he indicated, a flush moving over my cheeks as I smiled again and ran my hands over the smooth, polished granite. "That does seem to be what it's made for, it's life's purpose," I agreed, then sat down on one side of said furniture. "And it fulfills that perfectly."

[Daniel nó Mandrake]

“Do you always stroke things to check their functionality?” I asked, watching with a sort amused pleasure as he ran his hands – rather caressingly – over the bench. There was a natural sensuality to the gesture that I found both endearing and faintly stirring.

I sat down next to him, perhaps a little closer than was strictly necessary, but not enough to invade his space. Better to wait until you’re at least nominally invited before you do that kind of thing – besides, we’d already established that was what the bushes were for. The benches were for civilized conversation. To their detriment.

I leaned back a little on the bench, resting on the heels of my hands, tilting my face up to catch the falling sunlight, as I thought about his words. “You seem to have it all sorted out,” I said, grinning to take any sting from my words.

And, then, because I was interested and I realised I wanted to look at him far more than I wanted to appear decorous, or stare at the garden I’d already seen a hundred times, I swung round to straddle the bench so I could watch his profile, the gleam of his eyes, and the movement of his throat while he spoke.

“And how do you live, Gareth nó Valerian? What are your rules?” It’s hard to ask personal questions as a Mandrake without sounding challenging – to be honest, it’s hard to say “pass the salt” without sounding challenging. But I'd kept my voice soft, and I thought my expression reflected friendly curiosity rather than a desire to excavate his soul “That is,” I added, hastily, “if you don’t mind. My intention was not to lure you to a bench and then demand you tell me the secrets of your heart. I skipped Smalltalk For Beginners, I’m afraid, because it clashed with Not Being A Prick 101. But I would like to know about you. To know you.”

And also to ravish you painfully in the bushes. But better not say that aloud.

[Gareth nó Valerian]

The way he posed his first question drew a light flush to my cheeks as I felt him settle beside me and I silenced another chuckle, though I did glance at him with gentle humor in my eyes. It seemed my mind had gone to the same place his had at the earlier comment involving wood and it took me only a moment to decide whether or not I should say it. "When the occasion permits," I replied with a wink, the light chuckle finally coming free as I smiled at him a bit more widely.

Hopefully he wouldn't start taking offense now.

But then he was looking up at the sun and my eyes moved over his features, the way they caught in the light singularly attractive to me and I had to force myself not to stare too closely. Did I have it all figured out then? It didn't feel that way but I did my best to act as though it were the case because that was the only solution I'd found so far. I was accepting of it though and maybe that was half of the battle, to simply let go of what was beyond our control.

Then he'd turned around and my eyes couldn't help but follow the shifting of his body, the way he threw his leg over the bench nonchalantly, and the interested nonchalance in his gaze as he asked another question, one that was far from a simple answer. But his humor was evident in his words and his voice was soft, and I could almost feel it like a caress. Daniel was the most dynamic person I'd met in a long time and it showed in his easy mastery of things, and his confidence in that mastery that let him be warm and outgoing.

And I had to admit that I'd been flirting with him in my own subtle way, and that wasn't likely to stop either. Namaah help me for being so stereotypical and liking a Mandrake.

I managed to gather my thoughts from where they were wandering and answered him with a calm sort of confidence as I turned slightly on the bench, not mimicking his pose but bringing up a bent leg onto the surface of the furniture so I could see his features more easily. Though the way he'd spoken made my pulse race with affection. "I don't expect you to demand anything unless you actually want to, Daniel," I replied with a smile. "But I think my answer may bore you. Valerian's rules are the same as every other House, though we interpret them a little differently I guess. For MY rules- I refuse to be lose my sense of self, and I follow my heart and spirit. Which probably sounds too simple for what it actually is. But I live well, Daniel no' Mandrake. How about you?"

My eyes moved over him once again and I smiled a bit more softly. "Unless I shouldn't ask. I wouldn't want to make things awkward." Especially not when we were sitting here talking and listening to one another with a sort of mutual closeness I hadn't felt in some time. For a moment I almost wished this bench was behind some of those bushes he'd mentioned before.

[Daniel nó Mandrake]

I laughed openly at his delicate acknowledgement of the innuendo – and it was not so much that it was terribly funny, but that I felt unusually, perhaps bizarrely, joyful in his presence. There was a subtle pleasure in making him respond to me, with smiles, and jokes, and shining eyes, that I soon recognised came from not so very different a place to the part of me that wanted to make him pant and weep and beg and bleed and come. It confused me this intermingling of the innocent, and the significantly less innocent, but at the same time it didn't. There was a harmony to it, of pieces fitting together. Perhaps when you took the Marque and the money away, the power differential between noble and commoner, and the play acting of roles, this was what was left. This sharp-toothed butterfly thing, fragile and fierce all at once.

Nobody my peers stood around catcalling in corridors at the mere mirage of a Valerian. I felt as though I'd discovered a secret perhaps everyone else knew. Damn the secret room we'd invented, this was far more potent. This was the way it was meant to be.

Speaking of making our own rules, we'd already pretty much conquered the bench. He had half-turned to face me, one leg curled against the bench, close enough that I could have reached out and brushed his knee, or his ankle. It was tempting – not that there's anything wildly sensual about a knee, but I wanted to know what it would be like to touch him. How it would feel, like eyes looking into each other, only with my fingertips.

“I don't think asking questions is going to make things awkward,” I said, since he seemed suddenly just a touch uncertain, a little bit vulnerable, as if he, too, realised how fleeting moments like these truly were. But then perhaps it was just because the only questions you're meant to ask of a Mandrake are 'how high did you want me to jump?' or 'on which spike did you want me to kneel?' “Unless,” I went on, “you want to know what colour unmentionables I'm wearing today … but, even then, I think I'd cope. But to answer the question, I don't know. Sometimes I think I live well, sometimes I'm not so sure. But it's the difference between happiness and comfort, not misery and happiness, if that makes sense.”

I found myself smiling at him again, impossible really, not to. “Today, I live well.”

[Gareth nó Valerian]

The sound of Daniel's laugh sent a distinctly pleasurable shiver over my spine, though I did my best to show it only with my smile and the light in my eyes. I'd never thought of a Mandrake being so charming before but he was in a completely unique, confident, unforced way. There was a sense of self-posession in that and I could only wonder what it would bring out in a more private situation. He didn't seem like the kind who would close himself off or hold himself back from pleasure or closeness.

It brought a sense of mystery to him and made me wonder far more about things that were probably best left in those same private places they were set in. Ones where I was gasping and whispering secrets at his bidding, lips moving across his skin as he grew breathless himself and told me what other desires I as allowed to fulfill...

And as I looked at him he didn't seem to be thinking that much differently himself.

Thank Elua for self control, because that was all that was keeping me from asking him THAT question and waiting to see if he would answer with action rather than words.

Besides, the response he gave to the question I'd already asked interested me enough and I listened intently, considering his words and the way he said them for their meaning as well as the simple sound of his voice. "I'll avoid asking after your unmentionables then, for a couple of reasons," I replied with another smile and a slight flush, but not one of uncertainty. Though really what would have been under those was far more interesting to me. "Though perhaps the difference between misery and comfort isn't something I can define myself. I only know that sometimes I've had cause to question my choices, and now that's gone."

I wasn't going to think on that anymore though. The time for it was gone, as was the reason, and I didn't intend to ever slip back there again.

"I should wonder though what has brought you such happiness today. If it was my visit I should come by more often because you seem like the type of person who deserves to have that more often. Or are Mandrakes restrained to their classes more often than not?" There was a bit of a tease in that, but also a hint of a question. Would you like me to come by and continue this conversation again?

There was a moment I wondered how he'd managed to make me feel more bold but I wasn't going to question it. Perhaps someone who could have overpowered my nature but didn't out of the whim of it was what I needed from the world right now. I felt lucky to have found it though, and I hoped for something like a positive answer.

[Daniel nó Mandrake]

“A couple of reasons?” I repeated, with mock solemnity. “It seems to me you've given far more thought to my unmentionables than I have.” But then I smiled, and ruined it. Although it was getting increasingly difficult to maintain even a semblance of light-hearted conversation when the air between us stirred with a desire neither of us were going to much trouble to conceal any more. It was probably a good job I hadn't been a better tour guide because if we hadn't been in the middle of a garden, in the middle of Mandrake, overlooked by practically every adept in the place, Kushiel knew what I'd be trying to do to him.

Trying? Succeeding, I hoped.

Here's the thing about flirting though – it's all a dance of raised eyebrows and insinuations, until it isn't. That's when the walls come down. And then you can keep on playing, showing that it's just a game, or you can be honest, showing that it isn't. Either way, it's can be a little dangerous. And that was where we found ourselves now, with his question.

And I had a choice to make. I think I'd rather look foolish, but be honest, than make myself a liar out of fear.

I found myself suddenly, predator-still. Even my heartbeat, which had been racing to his proximity, seemed to slow. I sought his gaze with mine. “It was your visit that made me happy,” I said softly, “And I would like if you came by again.”

Suddenly, a shadow fell across us and I sat back abruptly, as if I been caught doing something far more compromising than talking. Squinting into the sun, I looked up to meet the scowl of a dark-haired, dark-eyed adept, about sixteen years old, standing over us, hands on hips, sneer on lips. Very Mandrake indeed.

“Ignace wants to see you,” he said.

“Who? Me?”

“No, someone else.” Well, it seemed he'd mastered some sort of wit at any rate.

“What? Now? Right now?”

“No, whenever you feel like it.” A talent he was clearly over-using.

I stood, reluctantly, extricating myself not exactly gracefully from Gareth and the bench. It did not do to keep Ignace waiting. Ever. “I'd better go,” I said. “Do you know the way out?”

[Gareth nó Valerian]

The tension in the air was nearly palpable and I was the sort of person who tended to give into it with the slightly provocation; perhaps that was another part of being who I was and my Valerian training, that I was more sensitive to the urges of others and adapted to them. This time though it made me want to reach out instead of falling into it, and though I refrained from doing so physically I watched with honest eyes as he thought about my question. Would it offend his pride not to be the one making the offer- because I had a feeling it would have been made anyway with all of the heat between us- or would he continue to be as open and forthright as always.

All wondering was soon put aside though when he answered through his eyes as much as his words, a flushed smile coming to my face as I held his gaze rather than looking away.

I could have kissed him then and I was more than half-tempted to do so and take the consequences later when a figure stopped near us, making me reflexively dropped my eyes. From the brief glance I could tell it was another Mandrake, younger and darker in both coloring and nature, and I waited unobtrusively as they began to converse and Daniel rose.

Knowing a time to leave when I heard it, regretful though it was, I stood a bit more gracefully and glanced back at Daniel as he addressed me again, meeting his gaze with a smile that held just a bit more than it had when we'd first spoken. "I can make my way from here, thank you," I assured him confidently. "Until we next see each other then."

With that I turned away and started down the path that seemed to lead toward the outer edge of the garden, not stopping to look back. After all, there was no need to when I'd be coming here again.

Hopefully he wouldn't have forgotten, and next time might find us in more private circumstances, and with more to speak on.

[Daniel nó Mandrake]

I watched Gareth leave, uncharitable thoughts flashing through my head. I'd seen Ignace about twice since I’d left Eglantine – why in Kushiel’s name had he conceived a whim to see me today. Why now? Had some kind sensor gone off in his office: “Warning, warning, one of your adepts is approaching happiness. Immediate intervention required.”

But perhaps it had been for the best. I had been about five seconds away from trying to kiss Gareth, the rest of Mandrake be damned. So we’d both been saved from a rather catastrophic indiscretion. All the same, I was having trouble convincing myself it wouldn’t have been worth it.

“All right, all right, I’m going.” The other adept was staring at me staring at Gareth – a strange little tableau.

As I knocked on Ignace’s door, I had trouble repressing a smile, remembering introducing Gareth to this very piece of wood. I received a curt summons to enter and wasn’t quite able to subdue my expression in time. Seeing me grinning like a loon, Ignace gave me a quelling look but the smile just wouldn't go away.

He didn’t invite me to sit down – which could have been a good thing or a terrible thing. It either meant this was a minor matter that would be over in seconds or he was so pissed off that I didn’t deserve a chair.

“Daniel,” he said, “I've heard reports that you've been harassing the messenger from Valerian.”

My mouth fell open. And words of outraged innocence came tumbling out: “I wasn't harassing him! He wanted it … uh … I mean... it's not harassment if they like you. We were just talking. I didn't … do … anything. Honest.”

Ignace regarded me coldly until I crashed into silence. “I think,” he said, finally, “a skill you would do well develop is the ability to stop talking.”

“Look, I saw him delivering a message, I introduced myself, we went and sat on a bench outside. That was it. It was absolutely innocent and above board. If it hadn't been, do you think we'd have been sitting there in plain view of everyone? I mean, there were some bushes nearby that would have done the job much better.”

“I would like to refer you to my earlier comment.”

“Um. Yes. But I’m telling the truth.”

He let me stand there, squirming internally, for a while and then he nodded. “Apparently so. As punishment you can be Mandrake’s messenger for the next month. Any and all messages will be delivered by you, do you understand?”

“Actually, no, I don’t understand. I haven’t done anything wrong. Why are you punishing me?”

“For being stupid about it. Now go.”

I swear I saw his lips twitch as he dismissed me.