Having washed, again, Kirin found himself seated against one of the walls of the circular quarters, unconsciously admiring the shimmer of blue lights reflecting off of the red haired demon seated before him. Angeles was not unlike a king upon his throne, effortlessly commanding and regal even as he sat upon the edge of the stone sarcophagi that made his bed. An odd place to sleep, the observation passed absently. The younger immortal’s thoughts came clearer now, his body heavy with exhaustion. That alone seemed to compel him to a rational frame of mind, to deter him from retreat in a cowardly fashion, but analyze his partner with some measure of dispassionate curiosity. Or at least as close to that as he was able to manage. Part of his mind still begged him to feel shame, to be consumed with embarrassment and fear, but he was feeling himself closer and closer to accepting this as a new sort of normal. It was a scary thought, subjectively speaking.

　　Angeles looked relaxed, his golden eyes half lidded as he stared down at his companion, the look of a satisfied beast evident in the perfect lines of his visage. Kirin both resented and relished the sight. He spoke first, giving voice to the thoughts that whirled in his head, the ones which managed to surface in the ebbing tides of passion. “Are you going to explain about yourself, now?” His head tilted to the side, just slightly, his own damp locks dripping cold liquid upon porcelain flesh, shifting away to expose the two small beauty marks that decorated his cheek, just below his right eye.

　　“You paid the toll, I suppose I should let you pass,” the male said ambiguously, his expression unchanged. Kirin was reminded, briefly, of a tale he once heard. Not about bridges and trolls, though that fleetingly passed, but about a man who always spoke in riddles. A princess had to guess his name... He wondered if this would be like playing against such a goblin, or if the words that passed between the pair could be taken in truth.

　　“Ask one question. I will answer it.”

　　A faint tsking sound escaped the young immortal’s lips, his tongue clicking against the back of his fanged teeth. “Stingy.”

　　“I am happy to replace the offer of a question with additional, less telling services.” The fine arch of his crimson brow was all that was required to explain his meaning. Kirin did not let it stir him, at least not visibly - he could feel his heart give a palpation, and he wondered if that was a healthy activity for it.

　　“Why are you down here?” It seemed a direct enough route, for the moment. He studied the casually slouched male; Angeles' body was still toned, not the dilapidated, deteriorated physique one would expect to result from confinement and lack of exercise. His arms flexed with sinewy strength as he leaned against them, his large hands folded together at his fore, his knees bracing the bulk of his pose. He didn’t resemble a predator quite so much, in this moment - at least not one ready to hunt. Perhaps a snake, bathing in the sun, content to soak up the warm rays rather than chase after the passing rodent.

　　“Someone thought I was dead - or wanted me to die. This must have been their solution to both.” Angeles’ voice was silken once more, and had an absolutely lovely drawl quality to it, as though he took his time with each syllable, caressing the verbiage like a precious sound. He did not alter his expression, even when confronted with the obvious displeasure that his words brought to Kirin. Vexing man.

　　The youth frowned pensively, glaring up at Angeles with clear accusation. “Could you be more vague?” he quipped sarcastically, though none the less absorbed the information. It was, unfortunately, nothing new. An idiot could surmise as much from simply looking around their location. It had taken him the whole of two seconds to guess this was a grave when he had first entered the chamber, and that answer could have been assumed from such an observation. Like a game of riddles, he decided he would need to be more direct.

　　However, the challenge was issued, and Angeles had no trouble stating in a plain tone, “I will try harder to be even less divulging next time.” His grin was sardonic, but there was something odd in his gaze this time. It was not interest, or passion, and it did not feel malicious. Yet it was all the more fathomless, puzzling to Kirin’s mind as he attempted to study the creature. This was a once in a lifetime event, the young man knew. It was a fluke, something that had come to pass which should not have. He wondered, not for the first time, how long this creature had been down here. If Kirin had never been imprisoned, how long would he have continued to linger? If someone else had stumbled down that shaft, would Angeles have acted just as sexually? He didn’t wish to admit that he already knew the answer to that, and would divulge even less that the thought was souring to his mood.

　　Masochistically, his mind wandered to further possibilities. If it had not been Kirin, who might it have been? Who would be a suitable match for this god upon the earth? He tried to bring to mind those he had met in his life who he felt were attractive. It was hard to remember them, since in recollection, every face he could conjure up was so below the standard set by Angeles it was disheartening. He was a butterfly among a world of grubs, a completely different class of beautiful. Shamefully, Kirin felt suddenly inadequate. He was by no means an unattractive specimen himself. He had often taken some perverse satisfaction in attracting the attention of others, of watching their gaze follow him, only for him to pay them no care whatsoever. But in the grand scheme, much of his appeal was likely the weight of his family, the promise that ties with such a name would bring.

　　Angeles knew nothing about him, and wanted him simply for the sake of existing. There was something unbelievably alluring in that, in being desired so fully. But then, he knew that it was not without other purposes. Revulsion rose to the forefront of his thoughts as he considered that he must be no better than a mere human to this creature, a vessel on which to feed and find pleasure in. A pawn. The disjointment of both trains of thought left him feeling barren, but he was without the energy left to protest, complain, or even bring it up in conversation, to explore what the greater meaning of his personage might be. There was no point in wondering. Complete strangers did not hold emotions for one another, and his own were nothing beyond selfish and intrigue.

　　His gaze must have wandered off at some point, his mind growing absent in his contemplation. He registered some debris scattered throughout the chamber, though nothing beyond what one would expect of such a quarter. A shiver assaulted his frame, catching him by surprise. It forced his attention inward, and he noted that he felt oddly cold. That was unusual - he never felt cold, not unless he was in the snow. But the sensation on his skin was such a contrast to the contact of flesh, he shuddered again and drew his legs up to his chest, folding his arms around them. Shifting his feet to conceal anything his pantless state may expose, he knelt there in further silence as his brain worked.

　　Perhaps it was boredom that instigated it, or possibly irritation at being ignored, but just as he grew comfortable with his new position, Angeles was suddenly next to him. Seated casually, the larger immortal draped his arm over Kirin’s shoulder, drawing him easily into a side embrace, forcing the narrow frame to teeter carelessly at an angle, folding into the expanse of warmth beside him. Immediate relief seeped into his veins, a warmth blooming in his chest as his heart skipped dramatically - traitorous little floozy that it was - before the noble looked up at his suddenly close companion. For once, Angeles did not return the stare. His eyes were closed, his head leaning back against the wall, his legs spread out on the hard ground before him. Such a serene sight, Kirin couldn’t help but marvel at it.

　　“Angeles?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could manage. His voice had a quiet, shy quality that he resented, so apart from the groomed gentleman he should have been without a qualm.

　　“Mm?” The sound was an acknowledgment more than an encouragement. His arm tightened slightly, as if to reject any possibility of Kirin moving away just now.

　　“Do you sleep with everyone you meet?”

　　The laugh that answered him was low, such a rich sound it made him quiver with subtle excitement, such a deep and resonating quality he felt a symphony of the finest could not compete. “I wonder. I look such the whore?”

　　The retort stung more than it should have. The larger male’s voice was not chastising, though it held a sort of cold amusement that did not bring forth the image of joy. It nevertheless felt like a slap to Kirin, a reminder that such an impudent question was rude in every shade of the meaning. Yet, he was left bitter further by the lack of answer.

　　“Sorry,” he muttered begrudgingly, not from lack of sincerity so much as shameful dissatisfaction.

　　They sat in silence for a long time. Isolation had made communication a novelty, and Kirin no longer felt any obligation to fill the void with useless chatter. He did not know the questions to ask which would render his response, and he did not care to climb an insurmountable wall. He allowed his mind to wander for a time, before it became content to lull in and out of focus, paying attention to the smallest of details. The sound of quietly trickling water as it made its way over the cool stone. The faint, comforting blue glow that persisted without hesitation, that shimmered playfully off of Angeles’ nails and the long length of his hair. The reassuring thump, thump, thump of the same man’s heartbeat just below his ear, his body still pressed into that side embrace as he was. Steady rise and fall, signs of life and vitality. It was all like a lullaby, and he wondered if it had worked upon his silent companion.

　　“Whatever may come to pass in the future, Kirin... You are a special existence to me. What exactly that means is something we shall have to discover together, if you are truly interested in exploring it.”

　　The sound was soft, a whisper, and contained an almost tragic quality to it. A dirty secret admitted. It was shocking, and woke his senses from their lull as efficiently as an electric shock. Dark purple depths looked upward, meeting the pools of gold that studied him for who knows how long. A flush crept into his cheeks, but he could not manage a response. Part of him felt such a sadness well up inside, an acknowledgment that whatever could be with this man never would, and an acceptance that some part of him wished otherwise. But this creature was dangerous. He could feel the threat radiating off of him, a dark aura that was not malicious in nature, but held the distinct quality of a grade A predator. If Kirin opened himself in any way, he knew that it would end in disaster.

　　When the young man pulled away. Angeles’s hold protested, but did not persist beyond an initial complaint. “I am going to rest,” Kirin spoke apathetically, rising to unsteady feet. The cold that assaulted his body was immediate, and regret welled within his chest, but he smothered it down. He could feel those golden eyes following him as he withdrew, as he moved to the narrow shaft, until he climbed out of view. Angeles did not stop him, did not offer any argument to make him stay. He didn’t understand why that hurt him somehow.

　　Laying on his mat, he was flooded with the terrible sense of loneliness. The silence of his cell was suddenly deafening. The air like ice to his skin. There was something wrong with him, his head felt light. He needed to sleep. Sleep would bring a peace to his mind, and with that, he could face Angeles again with his weirdness eliminated.