Spirits of the Earth

((OOC note: This flashback begins eighteen years before "present day."))

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The sound of rain plunked lightly all around. Tarj had told him they would host an "esteemed" guest that day and the young man was more than a little anxious and excited about their mysterious visitor. He paced about the workshop at the front of their home, floor creaking slightly every time he paused to peek out the front door.

"Maybe they aren't coming." Sulak pouted, turning to look at his mentor with disappointment.

Tarj just shook his head. The young man narrowed his dark eyes, watching the infuriating slowness with which his mentor was constantly reorganizing their tools.

"They'll come." What a simple answer when there was not a single sign of anyone heading their way.

He loved their work, loved their art. Who was so special that they could afford to devote an entire day to just waiting around? Yet they were late! Or, as Sulak was convinced, apparently not coming at all.

The gentle clicks and chimes he heard from the table normally would have been quite soothing, but to an impatient Sulak they were simply infuriating. With a grumbling growl he went to the door a final time and opened it to go outside.

Stepping away from the small stoop and out onto the street he just stood there looking up at the weeping sky with balled fists trembling low at his sides. He closed his eyes, just breathing the scent of rain under the blessedly light afternoon shower until he relaxed enough to unclench his fists.

Backing away to the safety of the small porch roof Sulak sat on the steps and just glared out at the falling curtain of water. Damp, silver hair pooled around his ears and a few strands escaped here and there to stick to his temples and neck, a few reaching down to curl at his shoulders. The loose bun at the back of his head was not nearly enough to contain his mane of hair.

He would keep watch, he decided. This mystery guest was bound to turn up eventually, even if it was getting to be disgracefully late. Of course, Tarj had never mentioned a specific time of day, but the young apprentice was impatient and so deemed them late.

Elsewhere and safe from the rain a mentor watched in silence as his growing student worked to tease silken strands of white hair into a rather complex configuration. Sor with his tongue stuck out to the side in concentration had no idea that Siris was observing him from the doorway and taking amusement in his struggling yet committed efforts to look presentable.

Siris, unable to wait any longer for his fidgeting student to finally give up, fully entered the room and ruffled Sor's hair playfully. "Just leave it down. You know the rain would ruin it anyway," he teased before assisting in smoothing the soft hair back into submission. "You worry too much Sor. Our hosts will not be focused on your hair I can assure you."

The younger man scowled slightly in displeasure but made no comment. It was true that he was nervous. Siris had declined to inform him where they were going and what they would be doing. All Sor knew was that he was not performing and neither was the father-figure in his life.

In no time at all the gangly teenager found himself no longer able to delay the inevitable as he was hurriedly ushered out the door and into the clinging rain. Sor found Siris's rather excited energy to be slightly concerning but tried in his own shy way to brush it off as another of the older man's quirks. He allowed himself to instead become engrossed in the necessary hustle and bustle needed to avoid serious puddles and muddy patches in order to remain relatively clean for wherever they were going.

Sor did not realize until too late that they had arrived at their destination and he found himself bouncing of the back of his now still master. The sudden jolt caused him to flail and stumble momentarily before Siris was able to assist him and with a firm but guiding hand lead him up a pair of worn steps where a boy curiously sat despite the rain.

Sulak found his mind wandering as he waited, eyes drifting out of focus until the sudden sounds of stumbling feet caught his attention. The boy lifted his head sharply in surprise, eyes widening and a soft gasp escaping him to be caught being idle by any stranger at all. He studied the boy who could only be a few years his senior, tilting his head for the clumsy flailing that had caught his eye. He seemed awkward and more than a little nervous.

They'd stopped in front of his home, their home. Realization struck him and he suddenly looked quite stunned as he scrambled to his feet to be out of their way. He was surprised that they actually seemed to have two guests, a fact his mentor had neglected to tell him.

He opened his mouth to say something but then realized he probably shouldn't assume anything about these new, yet quite stunning strangers with light hair and hurried to open the door and go back inside ahead of them.

"Tarj!" he called as he stumbled back inside, wincing at the slight puddle forming at his feet. His mentor lifted his head and chuckled at the sight of the boy but sobered considerably once he noticed that Sulak had not called his attention to himself but to the people just beyond him.

Turning away from the table and crossing the room he set his hand to the door to open it more fully to welcome them inside. He swept light, strawberry blond hair from his face where it had fallen forward as he offered the pair a warm and welcoming smile. "Sulak you're supposed to welcome guests, you know, not leave them out in the rain," he teased lightly, reaching out to guide the boy further inside so that the entry was free for their guests to enter. Sulak just nodded, allowing himself to be guided by the older man as he stared curiously at the boy with white hair.

"Siris," he greeted warmly, blue eyes twinkling as he studied the taller man. Dropping into a smooth bow Tarj gave Sulak a gentle nudge to follow his lead. The boy grunted in surprise, distracted but quickly dropping into the familiar gesture of respectful greeting. He felt a little awkward, though, not knowing who this Siris was, and so waited to follow Tarj's example. He rose at last once his mentor did.

Siris and Sor hurried in out of the rain and into the dry warmth of the home. The elder of the two smiled fondly as Sulak was gently chastised even as his own apprentice tried to shy away behind him out of sight of the new "strangers." Sor felt uncomfortable not knowing what was going on but did his best to remain calm and still so as to not draw further attention to himself. He already felt quite embarrassed for his earlier mishap that he was sure the other boy had witnessed.

What surprised him though was how his mentor, a traditionally nontraditional, flamboyant and eccentric man was uncannily reserved and quiet for once in the presence of these particular strangers. Sor watched as Siris met the other man's bow with a deeper one of his own. That in and of itself was not unusual as they were Maoin and of a lower class than anyone else other than the untouchables who these strangers most certainly were not. What was enlightening though was how there seemed to be an extra flare of gracefulness in Siris's gesture as if he were a taut bowstring flexed in anticipation of release.

Hoping to imitate his master, Sor himself attempted such a bow and nearly toppled over on the spot by moving too quickly and too far forward. It was again only thanks to Siris that he was caught at the last moment before he could have come crashing to the ground. "Now, now Sor," he heard the other man chuckle, "there is no need to sweep the floor with your hair. I assure you Tarj keeps a very clean house." Siris nodded in greeting to the other man as he pulled Sor close to keep the young one from scurrying away as was his proclivity. "I hope we have not kept you waiting too long."

Though he was concerned for the blunder -he certainly didn't want any guest of theirs falling and cracking their skull on the floor!- Sulak couldn't help how his eyes twinkled with mirth, his hand raising to cover his mouth as he turned slightly out of politeness to avoid staring at the clumsy Sor and snickering quietly while he righted himself with the older man's assistance. He wasn't sure why the boy was there, honestly. It seemed Tarj knew this Siris and had been expecting him at least, so he could only assume he was their true guest and Sor had simply been dragged along through the rain for company. He actually felt a bit bad for that. Poor kid.

"Not at all," Tarj assured, lifting his hand first to give Sulak a firm pinch at the top of his ear for his embarrassing behavior and then to gesture at the low table at the other end of the room where some of their tools were laid out already. "I was still setting things out, actually." Sulak gave a low whine for that, reaching to rub at his smarting ear and glancing to Sor with an apologetic, puppy-eyed look.

"Can we offer you something to drink while we all get settled?" Tarj glanced to Sor and offered a kind smile. "I'm sure we have much to discuss, yes?"

Sulak didn't need it to be hinted twice. The boy scurried away towards the kitchen to start preparing tea for them all. He knew Tarj well enough to know he'd want it to be offered regardless of what they might say. They didn't often host guests aside from clients, but Tarj was impeccably hospitable when they did.

Sor felt his cheeks warm as he hung his head in shame, refusing to look at their hosts and see the amusement he was sure would be clear as a sunny day upon their faces. It took him a moment to realize that Siris was offering him quite strength in the form of a gentle hand at the base of his neck which sent tingles throughout his whole body. The young man soon relaxed at the touch but kept his head down, hoping to become invisible as the adults went about discussing things.

"That would be most kind of you," Siris replied softly, a small fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Of course, of course," he declared moving closer to Tarj to continue their conversation. "Have you been outside today? It's a rather warm and gentle rain today. Perhaps we'll be lucky that it will finish before we're done here."

"Only a little, I try to avoid it when I can," he chuckled. "But for your sake I do hope it clears up."

Sulak watched the trio from the kitchen as he prepared the tea, his staring unabashedly obvious as he moved to their table to set cups before each seat before scurrying back to watch as the water heated.

Tarj turned to lead them toward it, gesturing at the table to offer seats for them as he folded his legs to his own cushion at the head of it. "Please have a seat," he welcomed them warmly, glancing past to see how Sulak was holding up before his eyes flickered to settle on Siris again. "You know, we really could have rescheduled. I do hate that you came all this way through the rain, but I'm pleased that you made it here safely."

Sulak noted the odd sense of concern his mentor seemed to have for them. They seemed to be of a lower class yet he was going out of his way to be overly considerate.

"So tell me... How may we serve you, my friend?" he asked.

"Bah!" the man declared, waving off Tarj's concerns as he took his own seat delicately. "A little rain never hurt anyone. Not even Sor here would melt because of it," he lightly teased, nudging the young man in hopes of bringing a smile to his face. Sor nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement but kept quiet much to Siris's disappointment as he sunk heavily down upon his own cushion. His limbs were struggling to be rearranged comfortably and compactly but given his recent growth spurts things were not going so well for Sor.

Siris politely ignored his young student's struggles in favor of further addressing the other man across the table from him. "Well I was rather hoping you would be so kind as to work your magic on my young friend here and see if we can get him all sorted out. What do you think?"

Tarj looked to Sor thoughtfully once he was settled, openly studying the boy's unblemished skin. "What kind of magic did you have in mind? I'm a man of many talents, as you know," he teased lightly.

He tilted his head to offer a smile of thanks as Sulak carried the steaming kettle to the table at last. The boy silently poured each of them a cup before filling his own and setting the vessel in the middle of the table. Plopping down to take a seat across from Sor he continued to openly study the older teenager over the rim of his cup.

It dawned on him that he probably shouldn't have been there. It seemed like a private discussion, but Tarj wasn't shooing him away so he hoped that meant it was alright for him to linger.

Sor remained still under the attentions of all the room's occupants yet he was not completely idle. He watched the younger boy from beneath his long, snowy lashes just as he was watched in return. "Well," Siris began, his eyes alight with knowing mischief, "I think simple perhaps. It is always better to start slow and build from there rather than overdo things with too much flamboyance. Sor I think just needs a little," he looked towards the surprised young man before allowing his violet eyes to turn towards Tarj, "sparkle."

Tarj nodded in agreement, looking between Sor and Siris as the boys simply watched each other in quiet contentment. Eventually his eyes also settled on the teenager, studying him as he tried to decide what they might do.

"I think I have something in mind," he murmured, glancing to Sulak and settling his eyes upon the small hoop hanging from the ear he could see.

"Sulak," he called softly, amused as he noticed the way the boy startled from his trance-like staring. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"...Honors?" the boy mumbled, confused as he hadn't heard anything that sounded like work yet despite knowing their tools were out and ready. His eyes widened in realization, twinkling with excitement as he glanced at Sor again. "You mean-?!"

"Yes, of course," Tarj chuckled, glancing to Siris. "If it's alright with you, of course."

"I thought you might," Siris commented with a sly smirk. "You always do." He too took amusement in Sulak's surprise and enthusiasm but he was more wary concerning his own apprentice's seemingly lack of reaction. Under the surface though he was almost positive the young Maoin was bursting at the seams with questions and worries.

"As for your young apprentice if you trust him with the delicate care of my own then so do I. Sor here is a rather sensitive young man. I've kept this surprise for him a secret until now. Perhaps young Sulak you would like to tell my Sor here what you are in training for?" he suggested as the older boy's head finally lifted to meet the youngest one's gaze.

"Of course I do, he's almost better than me now," he praised, chuckling at the mood shift in his apprentice once he realized he was being given permission.

Sulak beamed at Sor excitedly, nodding eagerly at Siris's urging but having no idea where to begin. "I, um- Well these," he hurried to say, setting his cup down gently before tilting his head towards the older boy. Pulling his mess of hair back from his face he lifted the thin hoop dangling from it to show him. The sparkling band of gold and its brother on his other ear were some of his most prized possessions: a gift from Tarj.

Dropping it gently he leaned even closer over the table, coming dangerously close to knocking over the cup in front of him. "And these," he explained excitedly, pulling his hair up a bit more to run his fingers along the smaller rings clipped higher up on his ear.

"I make them!" he declared proudly, though his smile was quickly muddled by a thoughtful frown as he sat up straight again. "Not the metal, the uh..." He looked to Tarj for help with the word but he remained quiet to let him work it out himself.

"Pierce... Piercings," he finally finished. "That's what they are. I do those! Oh! A-And those! Tarj is teaching me to tattoo," he added excitedly, pointing at his mentor and making a gesture for him to move the hair that had fallen forward yet again.

Tarj chuckled and tilted his head towards Sor and Siris as he pulled back his hair to reveal the thin, swirling design that ran along the hairline of his left temple. "Sulak finished this for me," he praised.

Siris smiled at the young boy's enthusiasm though his gaze rested more on the man across from him than the two young apprentices. "You are quite talented young one," he praised gently. "I do not doubt how quickly you will surpass the master. Then again he's getting old and slow anyway." He winked in jest even as he caught Sor beginning to come out of his shell finally.

The young man bobbed his head in acknowledgement of the news he was hearing. He found the other boy's passion to be rather adorable and something that set him at ease. "I see and does the process take very long, Sulak?" he spoke the name hesitantly hoping that he had pronounced it correctly and to the right person.

"Nah!" He waved his hand dismissively towards the other table across the room before realizing it probably would do to be a bit more formal. He still didn't quite know who these men were aside from the names he'd heard. "I mean, no."

"It depends on what you'd like and what you're comfortable with," Tarj interjected gently. "If this would be your first, ah, modification I would recommend something here." He carefully set his hair behind his ear before poking at his own lobe piercing.

"Sulak does beautiful work. You'd be in excellent hands," he added, glancing to his apprentice with a small smile of pride before looking up to meet Siris's eyes to finally show a bit of his excited nerves. Tarj was not a particularly anxious man normally, but it did tug at his heart a bit to know that Siris trusted his judgment with his own charge.

Sulak beamed at Sor, oblivious to his mentor's silent signals. "Could have everything done in about an hour, probably," he offered, knowing from experience it was better to overestimate for their clients. Privately, he doubted it would take more than fifteen minutes or so if Sor was quick about his choices and didn't need a break after the first as some people did.

Sor looked from one face to the next before briefly settling on that of his mentor. For the briefest of moments a silent communication and understanding passed between the two before the young man nodded and got to his feet. With a deep bow he declared, "I leave my care in your more knowledgable hands then Master Tarj and Sulak."

Siris was practically glowing his pride in his student was so great. Up until that moment he had not been sure how the young man would accept being dragged along for body modifications that he had never expressed an interest. All the same Soris had hoped to I still some confidence in his little duck so that one day he would grow to become a beautiful swan. He saw the potential in young Sor where others had given up and he knew that this first step was a giant one for them both.

He allowed his own gaze to lightly meet Tarj's and felt himself warm in pleasure at the emotions he read in the other man's eyes. "I do not believe I could have said it better myself. We are both in your care gentlemen."

Sulak grinned up at the older boy, humbled by his bow but feeling a bit too awkward to return it in full. He simply bowed his head respectfully instead, noting the slight air of grace in Sor's second attempt. Perhaps he'd judged him too quickly before for his rather clumsy one upon their introduction.

Tarj smiled warmly, looking between the three before him. There was a great relief in the weight lifted from his shoulders he hadn't even realized had been there. Sor was accepting Sulak. That was really all he'd wanted of their planned surprise, but it still filled him with such pride to see it before his eyes.

"Let's get started, yeah?" the boy urged eagerly, clambering to his feet and gesturing for the older boy to follow as he hurried over to the smaller table and the small nest of cushions on the floor beside it. Kneeling down, he pulled a familiar box closer and pulled off the top to reveal a collection of sparkling studs with all manner of colorful gems and stones.

"Pick out something you like," he urged him, smiling sheepishly as he explained, "You'll, uh, be wearing it for a long time while you heal."

The older boy followed quietly and more calmly. He feared that if he hurried even in his curiosity then he would send himself tumbling which seemed to the norm rather than the exception with him. With his hands clasped loosely behind his back he leaned over to view the contents of the box that Sulak was so enthusiastic to share with him. What he saw though confused him slightly. Sor understood he was looking at piercing jewelry but he did not know what to choose and he was not even sure where such ornaments would be placed upon his body.

A curtain of pure-white hair slid from his back over his shoulder as he turned his head to look questioningly over to his mentor. It was a silent plea for assistance and clarification that had Siris softening and giving a nod of approval in hopes of urging the young man into making the choice himself. Sor worried his lip nervously as he turned back to Sulak and tucked his hair behind his ear slowly.

"Which would you suggest?" he asked quietly, hoping that whatever the other boy picked would suit his personality and not be as flamboyant as many of his station and age preferred. After all if what the boy said was true then he would be wearing them for a long time.

Sulak looked up at the older boy expectantly, curious eyes settling upon the thick curtain of hair before him as he waited for the choice that never came. It seemed so similar to his own, yet not. He wondered if the texture might be the same, but he didn't have much more time to ponder that as he was finally addressed again.

"Me suggest?" He furrowed his brow at that, thoughtfully looking between Sor and the jewelry as he studied the Maoin's face. His eyes seemed so bright, almost like polished jade.

"I think..." He trailed off, turning to look at the box and holding up a few to squint at and turn over in his hand before setting them down again. Once he chose, though, he carefully withdrew three pairs of the small earring studs and set them on the table. The first bore a pair of silvery-gray pearls, the second dark amethysts, and the third deep emeralds that seemed the closest direct match to his eyes. He was curious what the older boy might choose for himself.

"I think any of these would look nice, depending on the look you're going for," he finally finished, beaming with pride. "See one you like?"

Sor crouched down swiftly in front of Sulak so that the tips of his thighs were flush against his chest and his hands were free to reach hesitantly toward what the other boy was offering him on the table he traced each of the sets with a gentle finger as he tried to decide which was best for him. The grey pearls were beautiful yet subtle, a natural beauty he found enjoyable. The ethysts on the other hand were completely not to his liking. He found them almost garish and far more suited for someone with a bolder personality than his own or perhaps a darker one. The third emerald pair was intriguing though and he lingered longer on that set than on the others. They were beautiful though he wondered if he could even afford such extravagance or if it was necessary.

The more he fought to talk himself out of getting them though, the more he desperately wanted them. They reminded him so much of fresh few-covered grass in the morning and a sense of grounding he always loved about clean earth. With a sigh of a negative expectation Sor reached forward to rest the pad of his finger on the emerald studs. "These please," he whispered, already tensed for the disappointment that he could not have them because of price or extravagance.

"Good choice!" Sulak grinned, gathering up the other jewelry and placing it neatly back into the box to set it aside. He left Sor's chosen pair on the table and cast a quick look at Tarj. One thing he hadn't quite mastered was the art of trade and receiving payment. He knew it was something his mentor took care of for them prior to doing any work on their clients, but the older man simply nodded at him to proceed. It wasn't something to worry about, he assumed.

"Here, turn this way and sit," he urged the older boy, patting the cushions on the floor before leaning across the table to drag his tools closer towards them.

He lifted his hand to his own ear again, prodding gently at the jewelry hanging from his earlobe and asked with a kind but excited smile, "I assume you still want them here, yes? It's not too late if you'd like to change your mind."

Sor offered the other boy a half-smile in return for the praise before hurrying to follow his direction. He had caught the master and apprentice even as he himself kept glancing towards his own mentor for reassurance and guidance. In return though all he received was a small smile and a nod of Siris's head. "What do I need to do?" he finally asked, hoping his nervousness was not immediately evident in his tone.

Sulak smiled kindly, eyes resting compassionately on his obviously unmarred and inexperienced canvas as he studied him. Taking a small jar off the tray on the table he moved it to the edge before moving himself to sit beside the older boy.

"Relax," he urged him gently. "It's much easier if you can do that, but tell me if any of it is too much, too painful. We can always take a break."

He flashed him an encouraging smile and, after studying his hair for a few moments more, reached up abruptly to release his own hair from the confines of the thin leather tie that loosely bound it atop his head. "And I need you to let me get all your pretty hair out of the way," he teased lightly. "Just until this is done."

Brushing his own hair back from his face with a few quick, sweeping motions he shuffled around to sit behind his client instead. Reaching up with gentle hands he pulled strands of white hair back over Sor's shoulders, gently combing it together away from his hairline with his fingers, careful to catch any wisps that drifted away with a second and third pass. He scrutinized his ears, carefully plucking the few strands that had been tucked behind them into the bundle he'd gathered at the back of his head.

Separating the top portion into crude thirds he fashioned a loose braid of only about three twists in an effort to keep it together before gathering all of it up again to secure with his own tie. "How does that feel? Any pinching? Too tight?" he asked, truly concerned for Sor's comfort before he proceeded.

The young man nodded his head in understanding while doing his best to remain still and calm. His efforts were nearly for naught though as the moment Sulak began adjusting and touching his hair, Sor practically melted. The boy's gentle touch sent pleasurable tingles all across his scalp, neck and shoulders that all but lulled him to sleep. By the time that Sulak was done, Sor could have been dragged out and dumped into the rain and he would hardly have noticed let alone cared.

"Perfect," he breathed serenely. "Thank you, it's just right." Sor took a deep cleansing breath, allowing his eyes to fall closed trustingly. "You may do what you need to do Sulak. I'm ready."

Sensing the aura of peace around Sor, Sulak beamed with pride for the beginning of his work going so well and shuffled around to fetch the little jar from the table. It contained a cleansing salve that he gently massaged onto the older boy's ears.

"I'll try to make it fast," he murmured distractedly, leaning over the table to retrieve a small knife and a fish bone needle. After choosing the spot he would make the incision the young apprentice lifted deft hands to make a quick, small score against the skin with the tip of the knife before pressing the needle through to entirely pierce from front to back.

From past negative experiences he was already poised to soothe, setting a hand to Sor's shoulder after he set the tools aside. "How's that?" he asked softly, using a bit more of the salve to clean the area before securing the first earring through the new piercing.

"Take your time," Sor murmured softly in reply. He did his best to remain still and relaxed as the other boy worked around him and finally on him. He did not open his eyes even once and barely made a sound as the incision was made and the jewelry finally put into place. Sulak had indeed been quick and for what it was worth the piercing had been relatively painless. Aside from a sharp inhalation more from anticipation than actual pain, Sor had found it to be a rather underwhelming experience. So many of the other young Maoin had often complained about how some of their modifications had hurt and yet halfway through the procedure and Sor had to admit that it hurt nothing more than an annoying insect sting. Already what little pain there had been was fading.

"Thank you, Sulak. I must admit my surprise but then I suppose not all the Maoin boys were as lucky as to have such an attentive individual work on them. You must take care not to lose that though as I forsee many more clients for that alone," he replied gently as he offered both praise and assurance. "Will you be doing the other one as well?"

Sulak smiled warmly for his praise. It was so rare in the middle of it all but it also helped him feel more at ease around the older boy.

"Thank you, yes," he murmured, moving around him to continue working with his other ear. He realized he'd given him some rather useful information, though.

"So you're a Maoin? I should have guessed, you speak well for someone so young," he praised, eyes drifting to sweep down the young man's body, studying his clothing in a new light once he'd completed the second piercing and was reaching to secure his new jewelry. "So you...dance and all that? I've seen a few street performances, I think... Do you do that sometimes?"

Sor hummed in the affirmative although one pale eyebrow did raise in surprise at being called young. He refrained from voicing his opinions though, knowing that doing so would be considered insulting to the younger boy working on him. Instead he let out a deep exhalation as the final piercing was completed and he was allowed to at last open his eyes and relax his posture slightly.

"Sometimes I do," the young man answered feeling a bit uncomfortable with Sulak's interest in a part of his art that he still struggled so desperately with. "Siris is much better though," he added, deflecting the attention from himself. "I have much to learn still."

Sulak glanced towards their mentors at the main table but shrugged, shooting Sor a lopsided grin as he leaned over the table to replace everything and begin cleaning his tools.

"You'll pick it up," he offered as a general kindness, sitting back at last to study him head-on and determine the evenness of his work. He was satisfied and moved to remove his hair from the binding and carefully unwind the loose braid he'd twisted into it. He gave the young man's hair a few gentle finger-combings to work out the kinks before moving to stand and wrap the tie around his own wrist temporarily.

"Come, let's show them." While he knew he did not need it he still sought the older man's approval of his work on his "sensitive" apprentice. Clearly his high opinion was valued by both Sor and Tarj and he would be remiss to not seek it for himself.

"Master Siris," he greeted, cheeks warming slightly as he did not know what else to call him by but hoped he might not be offended by it. Though he knew he had no need to offer it he did drop into a quick bow before him as well. "I know there will be much time before he heals, but I thank you for bringing Sor to us. He looks very striking, does he not?"

Tarj chuckled at that, amused at the boy's spark. He'd been watching them from his vantage the whole time but it was nice to see that he was proud of his work and their client's choice of jewelry.

Sor shivered again with pleasure at the gentle combing of his hair. It was only once it was over though that he realised he missed it. In a slight daze he hurried to follow, wincing as he banged his knee on the low table on the way up before stumbling closely after Sulak nervously. He kept his head bowed though in the face of the older men's scrutiny as he awaited their opinions.

The elder Maoin bowed his head in return to Sulak, allowing his age to excuse the slight faux pas of ignoring the difference in their social status. "He has always been striking," Siris agreed softly. "Although I believe you have done my young student great justice today with your care and attention. Your own master must be quite proud," he praised, looking to Tarj from the corner of his eye.

The young boy's eyes twinkled with pride for his praise and he nodded eagerly as he turned to look to Sor. Completely unaware of his fumblings, he studied him a moment more before turning to Tarj, gesturing at the older boy excitedly.

His mentor chuckled softly, studying the pair with a particular warmth as he leaned his cheek against his palm. "I was watching. You did very well, my model student."

"I'm your only student," Sulak complained lightly, slumping a bit for his mentor's moment of playfulness.

Tarj laughed, sitting up straighter to ruffle the boy's shimmering hair and give him a brief pat on the shoulder. "You did well," he repeated. "Be sure you tell him the details. I'm sure Siris can show him the particulars."

Sulak nodded, turning to Sor again and reaching up to brush white hair back slightly away from one ear for a final glimpse at his work. "Clean them every day with saltwater, but don't ever take them off, okay? Just turn them around a bit. Come see us in...three months?" He looked to Tarj for confirmation on that, perking up slightly once he nodded.

"Three months. I'll make sure you're healed," the boy promised.

"Thank you," Sor breathed, bowing lowly once more in thanks to Sulak as he received his instructions. While he had found the banter between master and student to be endearing, he found himself mulling over a few questions and the confidence to actually bring them out into the open.

He licked his lips nervously as he fought to find the words. Recognizing the signs, Siris gave Sor a pointed nudge, hoping to urge the boy into speech. It proved enough though as Sor once again bowed, "Forgive me but I have some questions still. I mean no insult, I hope you can forgive me but twice now you have mentioned that these," Sor brushed a finger along the metal in his ear, twitching slightly as it sent a sting through his earlobe, "must remain in for a long while. Why must they and for that matter how long must they? When will I be able to change them?

"Also," Sor hesitated, looking worriedly to the adults in the room, hoping that he did not insult either man with his next question. His voice lowered nevertheless as if afraid to be heard. "Should I come back sooner than three months if there is a problem?"

Sulak reined in his excitement in the face of an opportunity to answer Sor's questions and, hopefully, ease his worries. "Well the three months should give them enough time to heal," he began gently. "I'll check them to make sure. Unless there's...a complication" -he looked to his mentor for confirmation on his correct usage of the word- "we like to leave them in until we're really sure it heals. If you take them out early they'll just close up and then we'll have to do it all over again."

He gestured at the table of instruments rather innocently, shrugging and flashing Sor a confident smile. The older boy was cautious, he could tell that much, so he felt certain that he wouldn't do anything rash. "But once you're healed you can change them and wear anything you want!" he chirped.

Tarj nodded, chuckling softly for Sulak's enthusiasm but willing to back what his apprentice had told the young man.

Sor drank in the instructions intently, determined to remember every detail so that he did not suffer the consequences for it later. Once more he bowed, this time quickly in thanks as he murmured a soft affirmation that he understood.

"Well," Siris boomed, causing his apprentice to twitch slightly and bang his knee on the low table again, "now that this little sprout here is all taken care of why don't we get down to business, Tarj. You know I was considering heading over to Bei's for some of her high-quality alterations but given that I'm here and the rain I guess I might as well settle up and," he waved his hand dismissively but his eyes shone with mischief. "Well you know. I'm sure if things prove shoddy I can always venture over to her place anyway."

Sulak winced at the sharp sound of knee connecting to table. He knelt slightly in concern even though the limb was covered. Not realizing he was drawing attention to his blunder in his concern, the young apprentice whispered as the adults talked, "Are you okay? Do you need that bandaged?"

"Oh, were you?" Tarj pretended to be hurt but he was all smiles at the prospect of doing work on Siris. "I'm sure they can fix you after I'm done messing you up," he teased, leaning toward him slightly across the table, finally allowing himself an appraising look of the Maoin.

Then, sobering a bit, he asked, "What did you have in mind today, my friend?"

Embarrassed by the attention being drawn to him, Sor hurried to kneel and shoo away the concerned hands. "It was nothing. You needn't worry," he rushed to assure the other boy even as he did his best to ignore the throbbing that putting his weight on the injured limb created. He did his best to settle in and keep an open war to what the masters were discussing. Siris had never told him about Tarj yet their relationship seemed so relaxed, it made Sor wonder just how long the two had known each other.

"Oh you know," the dark man said dismissively with a fluttering of his hand, "just something bold and complex. If you can't do it you need only say and Young Sor and I can be on our way. I wouldn't wish to waste your precious time. I'm sure you have lots of practicing to return to."

The boy was quick to respectfully withdraw once he saw that his concern was not wanted. He settled himself to sit and watch the men talk instead.

Tarj chuckled and shook his head, eyes softening as he stared across the table at him. "Quite the opposite, my friend. I would love to decorate you with something. It is just rare, as I'm sure you know well, for a client to come to me with only 'bold and complex' in mind." He stood slowly, beckoning for the Maoin to follow him.

Siris rose gracefully to follow, making Sor envious with desire to be that elegant and poised. "Ah so you allow the clients to provide all the creativity so you don't have to do most of the work," the older man continued to tease as he moved to be a step behind Tarj. "I see how it is."

Sor watched the two go with curiosity, unsure if he was supposed to follow or to stay with the other boy. His mentor had done little to prepare him for their errand and had now all but abandoned him to fend for himself. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he did his best to offer the other apprentice a soft smile.

"I don't think we met properly. I'm Sor," the young Maoin offered softly, bowing again from his kneeling position. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Tarj gave a genuine laugh at that and raised a hand to brush his hair back that had slipped forward for it. "My work is bringing vision to life, my friend. Of course if you have none I would be happy to provide some of my own for you," he teased.

Crouching before a cluster of baskets in the far corner he rummaged through the jars before pulling one out and holding it up towards Siris with a playful little shake, watching the dark ink slosh within. "Shall we?"

Sulak's eyes widened, a faint blush creeping to his cheeks at the sudden formality from the older boy as he muttered, "We did meet properly." Feeling awkward without it, though, he returned the bow respectfully before sneaking a few curious glances towards the men on the far side of the room. Sulak knew what was over there and he was already feeling a little jealous and left out that Tarj might get to do some work without him.

"I'm Sulak. Nice to meet you," he finally offered, bringing his attention back to Sor with a beaming grin, unable to keep the excitement and a twinge of hope from his voice as he pressed, "Do you live close?! All my friends live in the city... Or more in it, I guess." He shrugged noncommittally, uncertain which it was or if it even really mattered.

The elder Maoin left to join his old friend, a playful smirk curling his lips even as his eyes danced with mirth. "You sure that will be enough, Tarj? I did say bold and complex, did I not?" He chuckled softly to himself even as he glanced back to not with deep pleasure that the two apprentices were still getting along.

Sor blinked slowly at the young boy's exuberance. He had not expected such energy nor such questions. It was not that they were impolite or improper. It was just that Sor was not used to being a person of interest. No one really ever paid much attention to him when there were flashier and more experienced performers to praise.

"Not too far, no. We would have been here sooner had it not been for the rain. But yes, to answer your other question, we do live in the city. Our main house is near the city center but as I am in training I live in one of the lesser houses for now. And you? Do you live here then?"

Tarj's eyes softened once he noticed Siris looking to the boys. "You did, but" -he set the jar back into the basket and hefted the whole thing up towards him instead with a cheeky grin and an arched brow- "I have all of this to choose from. Surely these would be enough, hm? How 'bold' did you want to go?"

Sulak nodded eagerly, but he found the older boy to be much more interesting than himself. "Yeah, just here. That sounds so fancy! Two houses, wow," he mused in awe, smiling and blushing again before turning his head away with a small giggle.

"Do you like it? You know, being a Maoin? What are you still learning?" he asked curiously, remembering that the boy had not fully answered him before.

"Ah much better," Siris declared, his eyes practically glowing with delight. "I was thinking something from here," he placed a hand on his left hip before motioning downward, "all the way down and and around of course. As for the design I suppose I can leave that in your hands since I've done all the hard work for you."

"Well not two houses really," Sor tried to clarify. "I don't live in the main house and I've only ever been there on special performance nights." The older boy shrugged at the other questions though, feeling uncomfortable trying to share whether he liked it or not. It was his way of life. He had no other choice and he could not imagine his life any other way either. "I'm learning everything still really. Dancing, art, singing, conversation," he trailed off with a shrug. "Nothing interesting I suppose in comparison to what you do."

Tarj's eyes widened as he watched Siris's gestures, somehow still surprised that his flamboyant friend would want something so prominent. It wasn't an unusual request at all, especially coming from a Maoin, but privately he was touched that he would place his trust in him for something so personal.

"I would be honored, Siris, but," -the artist laughed, shaking his head with a knowing smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes- "surely you understand something like that cannot be rushed in a day. Even a long, rainy one."

He settled the basket on the floor beside himself before tilting his head to study Siris where he stood. "If you're absolutely sure you want something that big... I think I have a few ideas in mind." He nodded in thought, eyes squinting slightly in concentration as he tried to imagine them, placing them against the shape of Siris's body to figure out which looked best in his mind. "Want to start the lines today?" he asked distractedly.

Sulak blinked, confused about why Sor saw his profession as interesting compared to the work of a Maoin. The younger boy certainly saw things the opposite way. "I like it, but..." He trailed off, shrugging and flushing slightly at the realization he came to. "It's exciting when I...make them, I guess, but I never get to see how other people react. You know, if peoples' friends and family like what I do. Just... It's neat that you get to see that about your work, how the 'public' likes it, yeah? Must be exciting," he mused, sighing with a happy, slightly oblivious smile. He hadn't forgotten how clumsy the older boy was at all, but somehow he couldn't imagine a dancer to be anything but graceful on stage.

Siris pouted as if deeply offended. "And whatever gave you the impression that I would want something so complicated and detailed, rushed? On the contrary I expect nothing less than your best Tarj. Even if it took a hundred sessions it would be worth the final outcome I believe." The man blinked slowly like a sated cat before sauntering closer, his hips swaying teasingly. "Do as you will. This is your profession after all, not mine."

"In time you'll know what they think though," Sor commented wisely. "For soon you will have many customers of your own, each brought by the interest of your previous patron's new body art. I believe my craft is not nearly as forgiving as your own, Sulak. Once you've seen one Maoin you've seen us all. There's nothing truly that exciting when you consider it that way." He shrugged indifferently as if he was not terrified of performing and becoming a laughingstock. Sor's own clumsiness was far from something he would consider able to induce such excitement as the younger boy was imagining.

Tarj couldn't help but grin as he watched Siris. "You'd be surprised how few trust me to actually perform it," he informed him gently. His gaze flickered to their boys, though, almost embarrassed by the slight feeling of surprise that overcame him at remembering their presence again. Sulak was well aware there was always some work his mentor would do without him, though, and Tarj felt no need to draw attention to that when he seemed so entrenched in his conversation with Sor. He thought the boy looked happy with his new friend anyway, and thoroughly distracted.

Bringing his attention back to Siris, though, he flashed a brief smile before beckoning him closer and gesturing to the cushions upon the floor. "Lie down and make yourself comfortable, then. Unless you'd rather stand," he chuckled, twisting to rummage through the basket of jars for the darker base he would want to start with. "And you really have no preferences?" he asked warily, fairly unused to such blind faith in his abilities and eye for suitability. "It's alright if you don't I'm just...surprised, honestly."

Sulak's eyes widened at the wise words from the older boy. "I never thought about it that way," he admitted sheepishly, somehow a little surprised that his clients might brag about him to others. He was a little confused, though, about Sor's criticism of his own craft. "I don't know what you mean, though... You're not all the same," he added, shaking his head gently in disbelief.

"I'm not the same as Master Tarj," he offered, finally glancing to their mentors briefly but caring not for what they were doing. "And you're not the same as Master Siris. I don't know what it is, but... We're just not." He huffed softly, cheeks darkening as he realized he hadn't quite strung the words together eloquently to explain differing styles, especially when he had no examples to give about his new friend.

His dark eyes studied Sor for a few moments in silence, head tilting curiously before he finally found his words again, "Could I watch you? One day? I bet you aren't the same."

"Perhaps rightly so," Siris teased though his eyes could not hide the intensity with which he watched Tarj prepare. The other man was like a forbidden fruit he was denied enjoying but craved so desperately to the point that he was forced to watch from afar as it was the only reprieve he could receive. Like a leaf in the wind he floated down to recline across the plump cushions present just for that specific purpose. While the artist prepared to paint, Siris arranged his covering cloth to discreetly shield his intimate parts from view while also revealing the dark, muscular length of leg that Tarj would be working on. from hip to ankle he was bare as he reclined on his back, looking completely at ease. "Yes, yes trust I leave it to you. What's the worst that could happen?" he challenged with a wink before letting his eyes closed.

Sor shrugged. "Perhaps one day you might. I'm not very good though. I doubt you'll find what I do all that interesting after you see it, Sulak. If you really want to see it done well you should see Master Siris. He's like a fish in the surf. It's beautiful," the boy related, his eyes alight with awe of recollection.

Tarj couldn't help a private smile for how unconcerned Siris was, entirely missing the way the other man looked at him in the process of preparing to work. "Despite my profession I find it's usually difficult to find someone so trusting in my care of their body."  He smiled warmly as he settled himself to kneel beside the Maoin. "I'm glad you're always quite the opposite," he added, hands leaving his tools on the short table and instead moving to settle upon Siris's flesh.

The artist gently ran his hands along his leg, both studying and admiring his musculature while he thought over the paths he could take with such an open canvas. It was important to Tarj that he shape his art to the body of its home and that was a larger task than simply putting ink to skin. "It is one thing to admire or respect someone's work," he spoke softly and distractedly while he mapped out a mental image of what he wanted to create for him. "It is quite an honor to be allowed to perform to the best of my abilities. And...it's rare, so thank you." His words were spoken sincerely, eyes flickering to the Maoin's face briefly before resuming his task.

Sulak furrowed his brow in playful challenge, having a hard time keeping his composure as he fought against laughing at how silly Sor's description seemed to him. "You say you're all the same... But you're not very good and Master Siris can do it well?" He shook out his silver hair with a short, barking laugh, the strands shiny as they pooled around him after drying from the rain.

"I'd like to see you both some day," he sighed wistfully before guessing, "I bet you're just really hard on yourself, huh? What's the word? ...Perfect. You want to be perfect, don't you?"

Siris smirked with puffed up pleasure. "I do so aim to misbehave," he chortled. Any further words were stolen from the tip of his tongue though as Tarj's weathered hands began to physically survey his dark skin. Gooseflesh prickled along his legs in the other man's wake in such a pleasurable way that it was all the Maoin could do to keep from sighing happily. "I expect nothing but your best then," Siris murmured softly, his words lacking some of the teasing bite he had intended.

Sor flinched slightly at the laughter having been greatly startled by the unexpected sound. "W-w-well that's because I'm not a proper Maoin yet. I'm still in training. And if I ever do manage to advance then I would be just the same as him. Or really I suppose at best a poor replica." The young man slouched, withering under the weight of his own thoughts. "I just want to be good," he finally mumbled. "There's no hope for perfect."

Tarj only smiled in reply, eyes glancing at the Maoin briefly before becoming wholly fixed upon his task. He ignored the obvious gooseflesh, assuming the other man simply had nerves he didn't want to voice and that was perfectly fine with him.

Once he'd decided on what he would start with Tarj slowly lifted the thin bamboo stick closest to him and dipped the finely carved bone needles at the end into the ink. He started along his upper thigh, bracing his free hand gently against Siris's knee as he began to press thin, barely visible lines into his skin. It was only the beginning, but he wanted to leave room in case he changed his mind later about what to put on his beloved friend. He did his best to keep shapes vague, not wanting Siris to guess at his design plans before he'd have a chance to even give them life or color.

Sulak was too distracted to notice what was happening across the room, not quite understanding why the boy felt he wouldn't be as good as other Maoin if he "advanced." He didn't see how he could possibly be good enough for that but not be good enough to stand as their equals. "I think you're too hard on yourself," he decided, trying to give him an encouraging smile. "If you're good enough for that I'm sure you'd be great. Maybe focus on how others see you instead," he offered, shrugging and not really knowing if that would be useful to him or not. "You know, the good stuff at least. Nice things they say or maybe gifts you'll get some day. I'd be honest if I ever got to see you."

The older Maoin allowed his eyes to close as he became lost in the sensations of being worked on. He had meant every word when he had said that he trusted Tarj implicitly to have free reign over his flesh. What he had not said though was that even on the extremely small off chance that something went wrong and the art did not come out as they both intended, Siris would not have it altered by another. It was Tarj and Tarj alone that he trusted this way and who he allowed such liberties with his body. Such notions however were not something that could be voiced aloud though so he kept them to himself.

Sor tried not to think too hard on Sulak's suggestion. He knew exactly what others thought of him. He had heard the whispers and chuckles behind closed doors or turned backs. He was not unaware of his own clumsiness and lack of grace. To linger on such thoughts would only sink him into the quagmire that Siris seemed so insistent to drag him out of.

"Well then," Sor replied instead, "I suppose I'll have to hold you to that in the future then won't I, Sulak?" He smiled shyly at the other boy. "You would truly give an honest review? Even if it was the most pathetic and clumsy display you had ever seen?"

Though silent, Tarj took great care to ensure Siris's continued comfort despite no signs to the contrary. Every now and then he gently wiped his skin to catch stray ink and while he normally would never do any such thing with another client occasionally gave him a small pat of both encouragement and comfort. Most were not extremely bothered if they had the courage to come to him personally for his services but he knew quite well how painful it could be. He hoped by then, at least, that most of it was dulled.

Sulak was genuinely surprised he hadn't needed to talk him into it any more than he had, shooting him a confident grin for his questions. "Yeah! Even if it is...I'd tell you, yeah, but I don't think you will be. I've only ever heard good things about Maoin," he offered. "How pretty and nice and talented they are." The boy blushed slightly at his further explanation but offered a sheepish shrug as he tried to meet Sor's eyes. It was the truth, at least in his mind. He didn't mean to set any expectations.

"I'm sure you'll be the same. You're already nice. And pretty," he added.

Siris smiled at each unnecessary touch, accepting them for what they were but not wishing to bring too much attention to them for fear that it would cause Tarj to stop. Instead he focused on the other man's breathing and slowed his own to match. The pain was bearable but the effort to not tense or move probably the worst part. With Tarj as his focal point though Siris found himself slipping into an almost meditative state of mind devoid of most distractions, even those of the two apprentices talking not far off from them.

Sor kept his thoughts to himself about how wrong he felt Sulak would be should the young boy ever see him dance. His dark thoughts though did not last long as he found himself suddenly the object of several unexpected compliments. He coughed in surprise while fighting to control his blush. "You're quite pretty- er nice as well Sulak. Not that you're not pretty also," he rushed to say. The young man winced, mentally kicking himself for being as much of a klutz verbally as he was physically.

Seeing Sor blush, it was hard for Sulak to keep his own in check. He hadn't thought the Maoin might have had similar thoughts about him, which was strangely pleasing, but it was unexpected more than anything. He'd thought it would be normal to genuinely compliment him on appearances and personality when they would one day be his livelihood.

"Thank you," he finally mumbled, bowing his head graciously. "Means a lot coming from you. Someone like you." Self-consciously, the boy began gathering up the hair that had spilled away from the top of his head. It was unsalvageable, though, so he just let the rest of it down and started gathering it all together in a messy bun all over again. "So how long? You know, until I can see you," he asked conversationally.

Sor nodded his head slightly not knowing what to say it so really. He did not really understand Sulak's comment about someone like him. He considered himself to be rather plain and even lacking in a great many ways. He was far from graceful or handsome. That someone would think so was shocking to him.

His thoughts were quickly derailed though as he observed the boy's struggles to tame his hair and the subsequent failure. He found himself reaching towards him before he even realized that he was doing it. With his hands halfway stretched out to touch Sulak he asked nervously, "would you like some erm assistance with that. I could maybe um try something to get it to stay?" His words trailed off into an unsure question as he apprehensively awaited the impending doom of a rejection for being so odd and forthright.

"Uhh..." Sulak blushed fiercely at being made aware his struggles were being observed. But he was offering to help so that couldn't be all that bad, right?

After a moment he lifted his head and let his hair fall around himself. "Could you, please?" he mumbled sheepishly, uncertain what he wanted to try but knowing he had trouble getting it to stay on his own. Surely a little help wouldn't hurt.

Holding out the leather tie to him Sulak moved himself to sit closer to Sor, bouncing slightly on the cushions as he got himself situated.

The young man accepted the tie before shifting to kneel on the soft cushions behind Sulak. For a half second more than necessary perhaps he paused to consider what he was doing before finally following through with his actions. Sor gently sunk his fingers into the other boys hair and began to attempt to finger-comb the beautiful locks into some semblance of submission.

For every accidental tug or tangle he blushed and hurriedly apologised before continuing anew with even more care. Only once the hair had been smoothed did he begin to weave it starting at the crown of Sulak's head and slowly and meticulously working his way to the ends of the boy's silken strands. One the braid had been completed, Sor tied it off while still allowing a considerable tail at the end which he took and used to tickle the back of Sulak's neck in the same manner his own mentor had often done to him when he was still young enough to need such assistance.

"There," he breathed not realising until he spoke how flushed and out of breath he felt. "That should do it."

Sulak sat relaxed and patient as he allowed Sor to work with his hair, though his mind raced with his curiosity over what the older boy planned for him.

He wasn't even bothered by the occasional, clumsy tugs. The experience as a whole was enjoyable and relaxing. When it was over and he felt the gentle tickle of hair at the back of his neck Sulak just laughed and doubled over to avoid it even as a chill and shiver overcame him for it.

Once he'd recovered he eagerly took the braid in his hands, pulling it over his shoulder to study it even though he couldn't see the rest without a mirror. He'd had no idea his hair could be made to be shaped in such an intricate way and he almost felt bad that Sor had taken such care to do it for him.

"Wow," he exclaimed in pure wonder, head turning sharply to meet the boy's green eyes, his own glowing with his appreciation. "Thank you so much, it feels so...light!" Sulak laughed and released his hair to let it rest casually over his shoulder. "You probably do this sort of thing all the time, though, huh?"

On the other side of the room Tarj was finishing up with the last of what he wanted to work on that day, not wanting to take too much of his dear friend's time with it in one sitting. "Siris," he prompted, voice thick from not speaking for so long and causing him to clear his throat.

"How do you feel?" he asked with a gentle smile, reaching to set aside his tools and inks and grab for some bandaging cloth to wrap his thigh with. His hands moved with deft care, careful not to touch the area he'd been working on directly.

Sor blushed at the praise. He still could not believe he had offered to do something so personal for Sulak and now that it was done he hoped to brush it aside without drawing so much attention to it. He shrugged at the young boy's enthusiastic question, wishing to not a big deal of it all. "Sometimes I suppose. Siris usually helps me though." He worried his lip slightly before adding hurriedly, "glad you like it."

Across the room Siris slowly blinked his eyes, coming out of his rather zen state and back into the waking world of reality. It took him several moments to gather himself together again but when he did he smiled up at the tattoo artist warmly. "Heavenly," he breathed. "How about you?"

"Nervous." Tarj laughed, winking before he looked down to smooth over the wrapped area gently, just making sure it would hold. He didn't think he could ever own up to the exact reason, but working on Siris was as thrilling as it was nerve-wracking.

"But I'll live. Leave that on until you get home, it should keep it from getting rained on. Come see me again soon, maybe a week or so, just whenever you're free. I can add some more to it." With that the artist gave a gentle parting pat to Siris's knee before he climbed to his feet. He stretched for a moment, standing on the balls of his feet and raising his hands high to work out all the kinks in his shoulders before rocking back to stand normally. He cast a curious look at the boys, eyes widening in shock at the sight of Sulak's hair actually being styled for once.

"Well... It's really pretty!" Sulak beamed, proud to give what was a high compliment in the eyes of a young boy. He was oblivious to the eyes upon them now, too obsessed with looking at his hair more and comparing it to Sor's silken locks.

Siris sat up and stretched, enjoying the series of pops that rippled through his body as it realigned itself after his repose. He silently appreciated the view of the man before him before he struggled up to his feet as well. The bandaging encumbered some of his natural grace but he made do with it as best as he could manage.

"Do you have room in your ever so busy schedule for a continuation in three day's time? Provided of course you've approved the healing-" his sentence trailed off though at Sulak's enthusiastic declaration surprised him and caused him to smile.

Sor could only blush helplessly, not really knowing what more to do or say. All that came to mind was repeating himself. He certainly was glad that Sulak liked it but he was unused to such earnest praise. Silently he looked to his mentor hoping to catch his attention and be saved from having to get himself out of his own social awkwardness.

Tarj smiled fondly at the boys, very happy they seemed to get along so well. "We'll see. I don't think we have much scheduled that day, but... I'd always make time for you two," he insisted. "Please come by whenever you're free." He chuckled for the way Sor was so obviously looking for help and after a playful roll of his eyes for Siris's benefit started walking across the room to distract his student and keep Sor from having to endure anything further from the enthusiastic boy.

Sulak stared in horror at Tarj, fearing he was coming to muss up his pretty hair as he tended to do sometimes. It was enough to distract him from showering praise upon Sor as he flopped over to duck away dramatically. "It's mine," he whined pitifully, clutching the braid in his small hands.

"Of course it is," Tarj sighed, crouching to scoop up Sulak in his arms even though the boy was making him work for it by being dead weight. "Come on, I'm not saying no but our guests will need to leave soon. Don't you want to say a proper goodbye?" he prompted.

"Oh..." Sulak frowned at that, reaching up to hold Tarj's shoulders instead as he first waved to Sor and then, as an afterthought, Siris as well. "I'm glad I could meet you," the boy offered, smiling brightly from the arms of his mentor.

"I'm sure I can manage to squeeze in a quick session with you then," Siris jested lightly. For Tarj he would tear down mountains to be where he was expected whether the other man knew that or not. He laughed boisterously at Sulak's antics to escape having his hair disturbed and Tarj's response. It was beautiful seeing the pair interact in the way of a parent and child and Siris felt his heart skipping a beat at the idea of Tarj one day being a wonderful father to his own brood of children.

He moved to place a steadying hand on Sor's shoulder, instantly feeling the tension bleed out of the young man at such a simple touch of comfort. Siris squeezed his apprentice's shoulder expecting him to answer Sulak before they made their final goodbyes and departure.

"It was a pleasure to meet you as well Sulak," Sor quickly responded, bowing low to the boy before bowing a second time even lower. "And you as well Master Tarj. Thank you both for your care and attention." Siris too then bowed lowly to the pair, smiling with pride for his young one. "Until next time then."

Pleased by Sulak's attempt at manners he set the boy down on his feet again so he could show them properly.

"Anytime, young Maoin," Tarj told him, sincere affection and playfulness in his tone as he bowed in return, though there was noticeably more lingering depth to the one he directed toward Siris. Sulak watched with interest before remembering himself and mimicking them.

"Until next time," Tarj bid them, shooting a smirk at Sulak before righting himself and stepping around the others to go open the door for their guests. "You can stay here, Sulak, I'll see our guests out so you don't wet your hair," he teased, waving his hand dismissively as he glided across the room.

Thankful it seemed he would be allowed to keep the braid as it was he waved to his new friend one last time before scurrying off to clean up the table and reorganize the cushions around the room before Tarj returned.

Siris quietly directed Sor towards the door, a pleased and content smile gracing his lips. The outing had gone exactly as he had hoped. Even if it was for but a brief moment, Sor had shown a little confidence. The boy had moved out of his comfort zone and had initiated an interaction with someone else. Siris mentally noted he would bring Sor along again as he allowed Tarj to finish working on him. Sulak was a good influence on his young apprentice and he hoped to see Sor come more and more out of his shell with each meeting.

With a playful swat, he sent Sor out into the warm mist. "Go ahead, I'll be along shortly," he urged the young man, sending him on his way. Sor obeyed with a quick bob of his head and then ever so carefully began to weave his way down the path, doing his utmost best to avoid as many puddles as possible so as to not ruin his clothes.

Siris chuckled under his breath and turned to face the other man. "Our gamble paid off it seems." He glanced back into the house where Sulak was tidying things. "Would you mind if I brought him along in the future? I would not wish to distract you or your own apprentice from your work."

Tarj smiled knowingly at his friend, his eyes glinting with mischievous humor as he followed the Maoin's gaze to his young apprentice. "So it did," he mused with a happy sigh, his fingers rapping lightly at the door frame. Sulak seemed entirely oblivious to the attention but it was probably better that way.

The artist was a little surprised by the question but assumed it to only be out of politeness. "He is as welcome as you are in my home. Your Sor is not a distraction, not the bad kind at least." Tarj smiled warmly, his eyes softening as he studied Siris with veiled affection.

He promised, "As long as my Sulak is not detracting from the boy's studies I have nothing against a little visitor." He looked to the silver-haired boy again, a fond and rather thoughtful sigh escaping him. Tarj hoped he would not make them unhappy with his wish for the pair to be friendly, but from limited observation it seemed they got along quite nicely.

"Take care of yourself," he bid him, reaching out to clap a hand briefly to the Maoin's shoulder. "Come back to me immediately if it pains you at all," he warned, gesturing at his wrapped leg.

"Excellent! Most excellent," he declared happily, the broadest of smiles warming his features. "Then I will be sure to have him tag along to my next appointments. Your Sulak has begun to do wonders for him. I can only see his studies improving with such a gentle friend to encourage him. An old man such as myself can only guide him so far before he stops listening to me," Siris chuckled.

Becoming more serious though, the Maoin returned the gesture, clasping Tarj's opposite shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "You as well dear friend. I doubt there'll be trouble though, not with your expertise at work. Next week then!"

"Next week," he bid him, unable to contain a genuine smile as he took a step back towards the shelter of his home to be away from the mists of the rain. Tarj stood in the doorway, content to watch them depart for a few moments longer before returning inside and shutting the door.

He watched fondly as Sulak scampered around, his shiny braid bouncing across his shoulders as the boy tidied up. The artist was met with wide, questioning eyes when the boy finally noticed him and mumbled a distracted, "They're gone?"

"Mmm." He stretched a bit, amused that he seemed so eager to clean up a mess that was not entirely his own. "Did you like meeting Sor? And Master Siris?"

"Yeah!" Sulak chirped eagerly, his cheeks flushed with residual excitement from their unexpected afternoon. He added a quieter, "They seem nice."

"They are. I'm glad you like them." Tarj sighed with relief as he crossed the room to replace the jars in their proper baskets and begin the process of cleaning his tools. He found himself quickly falling into the realm of daydreams as he drowned out the sounds of his student working on the other side of the room.

Siris shimmied his way down the steps and out into the rain after the young Maoin. It was no long after their departure that on the road to home, Sor underwent a similar line of questioning care of his own mentor. "So what do you think of them?" the elder asked, giving the top of Sor's ear a playful tug, careful of his new piercings.

"They're pretty," the young man murmured, flushing as he attempted to pull his head away from teasing fingers. "Thank you for taking me."

The man laughed heartily at his young charge while shaking his head. "You're welcome. Now what did you think of them? Of Master Tarj and little Sulak?"

"Oh!" Sor declared flushing darker still and nearly tripping over a small fallen tree branch in the his path. "They're both nice. Master Tarj seems to be quite knowledgeable in his craft," he added looking curiously towards his own master's bandaged leg. A playful swat deterred any further prying interest though.

"You made young Sulak quite happy today. Would you perhaps care to come with me in the future and spend some more time with him while the rest of my art is done?" Siris smiled as Sor could only look up at him in surprise. "Well would you?"

After a long pause, Sor finally responded quietly and slowly in his own fashion "if it wouldn't be an inconvenience to you..."

"Then it's settled. Next we we'll return to have your ears checked and a continuation of Tarj's superior artistry."

On the agreed upon day Tarj took great care to get as much work done as he could in the early morning so that their home would be free of other visitors for a leisurely afternoon. Sulak noticed how much care he took with setting out his tools and inks and after confirming with him that Siris would be returning he couldn't help but be a little hopeful that his new friend Sor would be joining them.

His hair had long since become undone, the long, straight strands of silver flowing around his shoulders and down his back instead of being contained in the beloved braid or a more practical bun or tail. Admittedly his first choice was a bit selfish in that he hoped Sor might return with Siris and be willing to do his hair for him again. The more practical side of him understood that the other boy's health and comfort would need to be his priorities upon seeing him again. He needed to ensure he was healing, at least.

Sulak paced around the entrance, occasionally peeking out to the steps and the road beyond before Tarj called him away with a laugh and set him to work cleaning what was left from their early appointments.

Sor had done his best to care for his new pieces of jewelry but inevitably had incurred a minor infection from the usual bumps of day to day life. He was fidgety and nervous on the morning of his checkup, afraid that he would be reprimanded or ridiculed for his inadvertent predicament. His mentor, Siris, had done his best to reassure him but finally gave up on his little lost cause. Sor would just have to find out all was well on his own.

The pair made their way quietly, one apprehensively and one serenely towards Tarj's place. Both were pleased it was a drier day than when they had last ventured out to the shop. "Hello young Sulak," Siris called once they came into view. "Will you tell your master that we've arrived, please?"

Sulak had still kept an ear out, milling around the front window with the hopes of sneaking a peak of their guest before he was upon them. At the sound of his name the boy perked up from his distracted cleaning and poked his head out the front door.

The boy waved, beaming to see that the Maoin was accompanied by Sor. "I'll tell him! Please come in!" he called, darting back inside but leaving the door ajar as he rushed to tell his master the news of their arrival.

Tarj simply smiled, gently patting the boy's head in thanks before smoothing a hand over his hair, brushing it back over his shoulder. "It's more polite to greet our guests, Sulak, no matter how well we know them," he reminded the boy, standing from his perch and wrapping an arm around his shoulders to lead him back towards the front of their shop.

Sulak blushed hotly for the reminder, not understanding why Tarj wasn't more casual around people he considered his friends. Pulling the door open the boy stood aside for them and bowed in greeting.

"Welcome back," Tarj greeted calmly, amused to see his student so eager about their return. He smiled softly to himself as he bowed low to Siris. "I hope all is well for you today?"

Siris could not keep his own amusement at bay as he too chuckled at Sulak's enthusiasm. He tugged Sor inside before dropping into his own bow, much lower than Tarj's. Sor too bowed, his long hair nearly brushing the floor with the movement.

"Thank you for the appointment, dear friend. I shall live my young apprentice in the hands of your own if that meets your approval," Siris stated, nudging Sor forward towards the practically vibrating Sulak. "I trust that young Sulak will confirm my Sor's care of his newest acquisitions." Sor fidgeted anxiously, already dreading the harsh words he expected for his minor infection. He really had done his best but it still managed to become unhealthy.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Tarj assured, eyeing his student in amusement. "Would you like some tea before we get started?"

Sulak was all too eager to see that his work was being enjoyed, rushing toward Sor and leaning close to study his earrings. "Do you still like them?" he asked in both excitement and apprehension. He was afraid of his work being deemed sloppy or ugly after closer inspection as it was something on his body.

As he studied Sor's ears, though, it became clear there was a slight reddening upon his skin that had the boy furrowing his brow with concern. "Is that paint or...?"

"Tea would be lovely," Siris intoned softly. Sulak's excitement was obvious and his childlike glee was precious to observe. He could only hope that his own apprentice would be charmed and swept away by such enthusiasm. The look on Sor's face though as Sulak questioned him told a different story though.

Sor fidgeted, his face scrunching up in worry at the reprimand he was sure would be coming to him at any second. "Not paint," he whispered, with a slight tremor in his voice that he could not seem to swallow down. "I did everything you said I promise but it just...it's all red and hurts. I think it's infected," the boy finally rushed to say. His bottom lip trembled as his eyes filled with unshed tears. Sor lowered his head in hopes of hiding his own growing shame.

Tarj hummed in agreement, turning slightly towards their little kitchen before the boy's words stopped him in his tracks. Hearing that young Sor had an infection gave him pause as he watched his own apprentice warily, hopeful he could manage the situation gracefully without intervention beyond him hovering over the conversation.

Sulak barely noticed his mentor's hovering, though, too concerned over Sor now that he'd admitted to the infection. "Oh no," he sighed, smiling sympathetically. "I'm so sorry, I hope it hasn't been hurting you too long. Would you be willing to let me take a look and clean it or do you not want them touched? I can walk you through it instead, we have plenty of stuff to help," he offered, completely oblivious to the boy's worries of reprimand.

Siris placed a gentle hand lightly upon Tarj's back, nodding his head to let him know it was alright before letting the brief touch fall away. He had seen Sor's ears and knew them to be minor and not even of the boy's fault. Sor had been anything if meticulous in his care of his new modifications. It was just something that happened sometimes.

Meanwhile Sor was all but curling in on himself where he stood. "You can touch," he said, his voice cracking as tears formed in his eyes and he fought back the urge to sniffle. "I'm sorry I messed it up. Please don't be mad at me," he cried.

Tarj's eyes flickered briefly to Siris, a particularly strained worry expressed in a furrowed brow as he anxiously moved his light hair to rest on one shoulder, then the other, then back again even with his silent reassurances. But as he watched the boys further he finally relaxed, pleased that young Sulak was being kind to the Maoin apprentice. As it was discussed what would be done for Sor, Tarj finally slipped away to prepare tea as he'd intended.

Sulak's eyes bugged slightly at Sor's apologies and he flashed an understanding smile as he shuffled closer, resting a reassuring hand to the other boy's shoulder. "It's okay, I'm not mad. You're hurting and I probably made a mistake." He shrugged and gestured to the cushions they'd sat at before.

"Let's sit and I'll look, you're going to be okay!" he promised cheerfully, folding himself gracefully to sit and beginning to pull out jars of all their salves and medicines. They'd worked wonders in the past and the boy was confident they would again. "Is it both or just one side?" he inquired curiously, dark eyes glancing up to look even as he asked.

Sor plopped down in a mess of gangly limbs and worry. He still felt on the verge of tears and antsy to the point that his legs bounced nervously and he picked at the cuticles on his hands until they began to bleed. Despite Sulak's cheery attitude, Sor felt anything but happy. He just knew that Sulak would be mad once he realized how bad it was. "Both ears," he whimpered, burying his chin in his chest in shame. "I'm sorry Sulak, it's my fault. I must have done something wrong. You were perfect."

"Aww, that's no fun, huh? I'm gonna take them out first, okay?" Sulak smiled sympathetically, setting the jars aside and scooting closer to brush Sor's hair back and inspect his work. He didn't mind the way Sor sulked but set a reassuring hand to his shoulder before reaching up to gingerly remove the earrings one at a time.

In a small bowl he mixed a solution to clean the jewelry with, letting them settle in it while he mixed a different one to clean and soothe the angry skin. He applied it gently to each side and each ear, lightly massaging it in before applying a light numbing cream for pain. "I'll make some for you to take home, keep doing this at night and in the morning and it should clear up soon," he promised, distractedly replacing the cleaned earrings to Sor's piercings before he twisted himself to lean over the low table. He mixed smaller amounts of what he'd used into 3 little jars and tied them up nicely in a soft swatch of cloth before presenting it to the older boy, open palmed.

The young man did his best not to whimper or cry as the earrings were removed but the second one did bring forth a few tears. He was glad and grateful though that Sulak was so sweet and careful as he gently tended to the disaster he had created. In no time at all the treatment was over with and Sor was accepting the little jars carefully.

"Only twice a day and exactly as you did it?" he questioned, hoping that with the clearest of clear instructions he could prevent a repeat episode. Despite Sulak's assurances, Sor was positive the infections were entirely his fault and due to poor care and hygiene on his part.

"Mhm! Take them out, let the earrings sit in a little dish or cup of the clear one. Then put some of the green stuff on, -not much, just enough to cover a fingertip on each side- massage it in. If you want help with the pain rub the same amount of the white stuff in until it's all clear. Then you can put the earrings back in. It's all safe, I promise."

Sulak offered the other boy a lopsided grin, very pleased with himself for being able to give the directions on his own without his mentor's help. He didn't blame Sor at all, instead feeling something might have happened because of his own piercing methods.

"If it's hurting more you can even use the white cream a couple extra times a day. It should help with pain, just let it sit for a few hours before you put more on. Just come back if it gets worse or hurts a lot, okay?"

Tarj observed the end of their interaction warily, blue eyes darting between the two youngsters as he settled a small tray for tea at the table and took a seat. "How's the leg? Any pain?" he asked as he poured a cup for Siris and pushed it across closer to him, suddenly quite paranoid his own work might have caused his friend discomfort if it wasn't healing properly. "I feel like your student might be listening to the advice he's given better than you," he teased lightly, smiling warmly and meeting his eyes briefly before lowering his gaze to pour his own cup of tea.

Sor nodded his head, repeating the steps under his breath after Sulak and touching each of the bottles to help memorize the steps. "Thank you Sulak. You have been most generous and kind. I'm sorry I did not care for your modification the way I should have. I'll do better from now on I promise," he said earnestly, sniffling and wiping his tears away angrily.

Siris meanwhile watched the young pair with a soft smile. He knew they would figure things out on their own an that there was no real reason for his young student to worry himself so. He was quickly distracted though by the return of his own piece of eye candy.

"Now now, Tarj," he purred with half-lidded eyes, "you know as well as I that you take good care of me. There's nothing to worry yourself over. I'm perfectly fine and more than ready for another go if you are." Siris smirked faintly as he accepted the tea and blew on it lightly. "Smells heavenly, thank you."

Sulak rolled his eyes thinking Sor was being a little dramatic and overreacting. It was something so simple, in his mind, common in his trade and exceptionally easy to handle, especially when treated so early.

He noticed the boy's tears now, finally focusing on him instead of his ears for the first time since they'd arrived. "Aww, don't cry Sor. It happens sometimes, don't worry about it. It's not your fault," the boy promised, reaching out to swipe away a stray tear that had been missed upon his cheek.

Then a sudden thought struck him and he blushed and averted his eyes shyly. "Unless you want anything else done today... Could you maybe braid my hair again?"

"It's you at home I'm worried about, not me," Tarj corrected him, tone playful though the words were serious. Then he sobered with a gracious bow of his head, humming in agreement as he lifted his cup gingerly, "After tea, then. Today might be a longer session if you don't mind staying for a bit."

"I would be honored to have your attentions solely focused upon my person for an extended period of time," Siris purred, stretching his legs out in front of him in such a way that showed off more of his skin. "Everyone knows you're the second best tattoo artist on the whole island," the Maoin teased, knowing that it was a falsehood and Tarj was truly the best to be found. "Just remember if you make a mistake I'll have to book an appointment with the best and it might be years before I can be seen. I would hate to have to wear a mistake for that long. Such an embarrassment," he jested, shaking his head at the mockery.

Sor stilled at the gentle touch, having not expected Sulak to see and reach out of his own accord to help the young man. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he dropped his head and fiddle with his hands some more, wiping away the few beady drops of blood that had welled up around his nails.

"You want me to braid your hair?" he asked slowly, peeking up between his lashes and furrowing his brow in surprise because surely Sor had not heard the younger boy right. Something so simple and that is what was wanted of him. It was mind-boggling to him. "Are you sure?"

"Well only if you want to," he corrected, a little nervous he might be asking too much of his new friend. It just felt nice to have his hair styled for him.

Sulak noticed a small flash of red from Sor's hands, gasping softly for the blood from his fingers. "Oh, you're hurt." He frowned, looking around and snatching up a spare piece of cloth to wipe the red dots away meticulously.

Tarj smirked, laughing good-naturedly at Siris's antics. He shook his head fondly, strawberry blonde hair waving delicately with the motion. "Oh I know, that would be just awful. It's a shame I can't hold a candle to her work. But I do try my best, especially for someone so visible in the community, hm?"

The elder artist rose gracefully once he was finished with tea, approaching the boys with a small smile and crouching beside them, though he didn't even really notice what they were doing or the slightly blood-streaked cloth in his apprentice's hand. "Would you mind moving your little party, boys? Master Siris is addicted to my ink and we need this spot again for me to work," he explained teasingly, not even casting a glance to the Maoin.

"Yeah." Sulak bobbed his head and climbed to his feet quickly. "Sor needs bandages anyway, I'll get them," he informed him, already reaching for Sor's arm to pull him up by so he could lead him away to the table.

Tarj did raise a skeptical brow at that, not seeing any injury of note on the surface but assuming it was some sort of game they were getting at. "Well then..."

Sor blushed further at his hands being noticed and quickly waved them before trying to tuck them beneath his thighs. "It's nothing, honestly. There's no need to-" he was cut off though as Sulak took them and began trying to wipe away the blood that had welled up under his nervous picking.

Tarj's interruption served to startle Sor though and he once more yanked his hands away to hide them beneath his legs so that the older man would not notice what he had done to himself. "Of course M-master Tarj," he whispered with a nervous stutter already attempting to stand as Sulak dragged him along for bandages.

While the tattoo artist saw the boys off, the fully trained Maoin took the time to drink in his figure and admire the play of muscles beneath his dark skin. It was a delicious sight to behold and Siris found himself envious of the woman who got the opportunity to love upon that body in the ways he so desired.

He finished his tea and placed it down before sauntering over to Tarj with an artful sway of his hips. "Boys being boys, I presume?"

Sulak led Sor away to the little box they kept bandaging in, sitting down on the floor as he rummaged through it to retrieve the tiniest strips of the cloth he could find. "Let me see your hand," he prompted gently, eyes filled with concern for his desire to "stop" the bleeding, however light.

Tarj hummed in agreement, unaware he was being admired. "Make yourself comfortable," he urged him, turning his head briefly with a smile as he patted at the cushions upon the floor beside him.

He scooted closer to the table, kneeling beside it while quietly putting away the things his student had left out. Then he began pulling out the jars of inks he needed and his own tools so he could continue his work on Siris's leg. "How are things at the House, friend? It's been too long since I've paid a visit."

"It's nothing really," Sor attempted, hiding his hands behind his back to try and deter Sulak from worrying too much. "I don't need anything special. If you want me to braid your hair I will." He was desperate to keep Sulak from paying any more attention to his person than was necessary. The young boy was far too sweet and adorable to be concerning himself with the mess that Sor felt he was.

Siris pooled himself down to lounge upon the pillows. He even stretched himself out so as to present his body to show off the most skin. "Ah, the House is quiet without you around, a blessing I'm sure the other Maoin equally appreciate. Although perhaps it's time you made your rounds again. I'm sure a fair few of them might deign to lower themselves to purchase some cheap modifications. However, it might be prudent on your part to offer major discounts to cover the costs of needing them retreated by Bei."

Sulak blinked in confusion, uncertain why Sor was dismissing his desire to help when he had so obviously hurt himself. The younger boy reached out cautiously to grab for Sor's arm and try to coax one of his hands away from his back.

"Well if you're going to braid my hair I don't want blood getting in it," he pointed out, trying to reason with him so he could apply the tiny bandaging to him without fuss.

"I know. I'm really getting away with robbery, aren't I?" he teased, knowing well how much Siris's peers desired his work. Tarj smiled to himself as he examined Siris clinically, though he wasn't able to fully mask the appreciative sparkle in his eyes to have such a private view of his body. He reached out to gently adjust his clothing to better expose the area he had been working on.

Without moving his eyes from the Maoin Tarj pulled a jar of dark ink closer, opening it slowly. He dipped in the carved tips of bone attached to his stick and deftly set to work filling in a few missed spots from before and then continuing on to build upon his work, connecting lines where necessary and mapping out the general shapes.

Once that was finished he took a different stick of bamboo and began with some brighter colors, beginning his work at Siris's inner thigh to hide what he could from his friend despite the pain he suspected it would cause him. He also didn't want unfinished work displayed so prominently along his outer thigh and hip. "Feeling alright?" he inquired softly.

Sor pursed his lips, unhappy that Sulak's logic was quite sound. Finally, he grudgingly relented in offering up his hands though he kept his head bowed and refused to look at Sulak. "I'm sorry for the trouble I cause you, Sulak. Is there anything special you want done with your hair to make up for it?"

Siris though had eyes only for Tarj. He watched the other man through half-lidded orbs as he was adjusted and manipulated into the right position for the other man to continue his work. When Tarj paused for more ink, he shifted, drawing the leg that was not in use up to be bent at the knee with his foot braced flat against the floor. It served to help keep him still even as Tarj needled him incessantly.

As the other man began again he allowed his head to fall back and his eyes to close in concentration. "Quite," he murmured softly, easily finding his zen place and remaining there peacefully as Tarj continued working. "Perhaps you're not doing it correctly though if that's the case," he teased, doing his best to stifle any laughter that would cause him to move.

Sulak relaxed some, smiling his encouragement to the older boy as he was finally able to wrap little bandages around his fingers, placing each with care and tucking the tails to be out of Sor's way. He contemplated the question, humming thoughtfully but falling quiet until he was finished with his work.

"Can you do your favorite style?" he finally asked, sitting up abruptly and looking at Sor with wide, curious eyes. For a brief moment he looked uncertain before adding a quiet, "If it isn't too long or too short, that is."

"Perhaps not." Tarj chuckled quietly under his breath, glancing up at Siris with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "Or maybe you're just too used to the pain."

He tsked softly, shaking his head but concentrating on his work again. "Poor thing."

"My favorite style?" Sor tilted his head this way and that, looking at Sulak's hair to determine what would and would not be possible to do with it. "I suppose I could manage something if that's really what you're wanting. It will take a while to do though. Is that a problem?"

With his fingers free of Sulak's hands, Sor brought them back to rub nervously at his arms. He wiggled them experimentally to see how well they could move with the bandages before returning his focus solely to the younger boy. "If you get your brush and hair-ties I can get started. Unless, is there anything else you wanted first?"

"No problem, I can wait! It's worth it." The boy blushed slightly, giggling for knowing how warm his cheeks were. At Sor's prompting for supplies Sulak scrambled to his feet to get them, returning quickly with his favorite brush and a handful of the same leather ties as before, uncertain how many he might need.

"Is that enough?" he wondered aloud, setting them down gently on a cushion he dragged nearer before sitting cross-legged before the Maoin boy.

Sor blinked wide-eyed at the overflowing handful of ties that Sulak offered him, but smiled faintly as he accepted them all. "That will do," he replied softly, patting for the boy to move closer and turn around for him. He hid his faint smirk at Sulak's eagerness to obey before focusing on the task at hand.

The older boy took the brush and starting at ends, rhythmically brushed out all the tangles and knots in Sulak's hair with the greatest of care. Only once the hair was silken smooth did Sor finally put the brush down and begin to twist tiny braids through out the other boy's hair. He made sure not to tug too tightly as he created multiple braids away from Sulak's scalp.

As he worked, he began to hum softly, instantly garnering the attention of his mentor who lifted his head and peeked an eye open at the boy. Seeing the pair so content with each other, Siris could not help but smile with a wink to Tarj before returning to resting back while the tattoo artist worked his magic.

Sulak turned quickly when prompted, hurrying to get himself settled so that the wonderful sensation of having his hair played with could return soon. As soon as Sor set to work on him Sulak melted into a state of pure relaxation, eyes mostly closed and body still as he just enjoyed the feelings Sor seemed to elicit from him.

"It's like a hair massage," Sulak mumbled, giggling quietly at the thought and oblivious to the adults observing them from across the room. He quieted again for a moment to listen to the humming, finding it quite relaxing.

"Sor... Can you sing?" the boy inquired in a whisper, not wanting to interrupt him too much with his question but painfully curious.

Tarj lifted his head silently to watch when he noticed Siris's movement, a slow, fond smile lighting up his face to see that the pair were getting along well and seemed to have something to bond over. He'd felt it was his responsibility to give his apprentice the gift of true friendship and it seemed that wish was slowly coming together for them.

The artist paused briefly, blinking back happy tears for a moment before silently returning to his work.

Siris noticed the look Tarj gave the boys and understood without words what it was about. Silently he placed a gentle hand over Tarj's, giving it a squeeze of agreement before letting the man return to his work. It was good to see the sons they could never have on their own, come together and find friendship.

"What?" Sor asked, startled, accidentally tugging on Sulak's hair before hurrying to sooth the hurt by rubbing the spot. "Sorry, Sulak. Sing though? Well," the boy blushed as he resumed his braiding. "Yes but not very well. Master Siris sings far better than I ever could. I'm sorry though. Was I being annoying? I'll be quiet now. I didn't mean to disturb you."

Tarj chuckled under his breath, smiling knowingly and bowing his head in silent thanks for the support of their shared moment. There was much he wished to say that he could not, so he directed his feelings into the tiny shards of bone giving life to his own imagination on his living canvas.

Sulak barely flinched at the tug, honestly a little surprised it was the first time it had happened. Sor was very careful with him and he had already observed enough of that to know the older boy was being mindful of him on purpose, out of the goodness of his heart.

"No, I liked it!" he insisted gently, frowning slightly at the floor for the realization that his curiosity had created the opposite effect from what he'd desired. Did he not see that Sulak didn't care if Siris was better?

"I was just wondering about you. Your humming is good, I thought you might have a pretty voice," he explained shyly.

Sor was completely oblivious to Sulak's care and interest in him. He knew that he was an awkward young thing and did not fit in with the other boys his age in the House. They were all interested in girls and showing off, whereas Sor was more focused on solitary activities that allowed him to keep to himself.

"I suppose my voice is alright. I don't really sing for anyone if I can help it. Do you sing, Sulak?"

Sulak blushed brightly, shaking his head for a moment before he realized he probably shouldn't be tossing the delicate braids Sor had put into place and stilled. "Sorry! Um, not really. Sometimes when it rains. Or if Tarj wants a lullaby. Sometimes he doesn't sleep well," he explained, uncertain if that information was even okay to share with his new friend.

"Your talking voice is good. I think your singing must be, too. It's the same thing anyway," he tried to reason, cautiously reaching to pat down what he'd mussed.

"Did I mess it up too much?" he wondered, hanging his head slightly and prepared for being scolded for moving before he was done.

"It's fine. It's fine," Sor assured the boy, batting his hands away as he readjusted his work. He was glad that Sulak's back was to him and therefore could not see the way his skin flushed at the praise. "Why don't you sing something then while I work. If we're quiet we shouldn't disturb the other two at work," he suggested while combing his fingers through Sulak's braids and loose hair. He loved the feeling of the cool strands pooling through his fingers so softly. It made him want to bury his face in it and just nuzzle in like a pile of downy feathers.

Sulak relaxed quite easily again, happy that Sor wasn't cross with him.

"Me? Sing?" The boy gasped, biting her lip anxiously for a moment as he thought on what he could possibly sing that a Maoin might like. After all, he knew plenty of Sor's peers were excellent at holding a tune and it made him feel a little self-conscious.

The gentle combing through his hair soothed his nerves, though, and after a few moments of silence Sulak finally let a quiet song free, a soft little lullaby about the sea that was one of his favorites.

At the sound of his voice Tarj perked up again, pausing briefly in his work to eye the young pair warily before returning his attention to Siris with a soft smile. Having been so focused on his work he wasn't sure what had prompted his student to sing but he did enjoy the sound. His voice wasn't entirely developed yet, being so young, but it was pleasant and warm.

"Only if you want to," Sor murmured softly. Despite what Sulak feared, Sor was not interested very much in the activities of his peers. Their Maoin abilities only served to upset him as his own were so much lesser in his mind. He was not talented or witty enough to keep up with the rest of them.

On the contrary, hearing Sulak sing was soothing to him and made him smile easily. He once more resumed combing his fingers through the boy's hair, loving the sound of his voice. The moment made Sor want to wrap his arms around Sulak and hug him close like a teddy bear. He was just too cute for words.

Siris too raised his head at the sound of Sulak's voice and chuckled. "It seems to me old friend that your apprentice is being wasted on the wrong profession. I think you should let me steal him away to become a Maoin instead of a second-rate artist. He's much better suited to wooing customers with that voice than here," he teased softly.

Sulak could have purred for Sor's gentle touches but he refrained to maintain his song. Instead he found himself gradually leaning back against the older boy, eyes closing to half-lids of contentment until he'd finished his lullaby.

"You're probably still better," he said with a sigh, smiling some and just enjoying how comfortable it was to be in Sor's presence, to have the Maoin giving him such attention. "Are you still working on it?"

Tarj laughed softly for Siris's teasing, knowing the boy probably could have done well training for either profession. "I think he's too shy for that, you'd probably terrify him. I'm surprised he's singing for him, really," he pointed out quietly, trying not to disturb the moment the boys seemed to be sharing. "He's private with it, I think he prefers showing off inks more."

Sor gave up in braiding as he finished his last one and tied it off. Instead as Sulak finally settled back against him fully he took to lightly scratching and massaging the boy's scalp. "Don't put yourself down, Sulak. You have a lovely voice. Thank you for sharing it."

"Sor has that affect on people. He makes the shyest person want to please him without even trying. The worst is he does not even realize it and if he did he'd be so embarrassed. He truly is a treasure among us Maoin. I can't wait to see him all grown up and full of confidence." Siris spoke with pride over his young apprentice. Sor was as close as a son as the man would ever had and he certainly spoiled and raised him as if he was. "Sulak will be a good influence for him. Your boy is quite precious himself."

Sulak blushed some for the additional attention, completely surprised that Sor seemed comfortable by their sudden closeness. He'd expected to be pushed off for getting too close but with the older boy allowing their moment of closeness he took full advantage and made himself comfortable against him like they were old friends and such touching was normal.

"You're welcome. Thank you for your help. I know it looks nice even without seeing it," he praised softly, giggling to himself as he wondered what so much braiding must look like with his mane of hair. He would be able to see soon enough but he didn't want to get up and break their moment just yet.

"He might even outshine you someday, friend," Tarj teased, smirking as he glanced up with a playful glint in his eye before sobering to a warm smile that was filled with adoration he couldn't exactly share. "You've raised him well. He'll be a special one once he's blossomed, I'm sure."

"You haven't seen it though," the older boy chuckled. "Wait to declare that until after you've seen it. For all you know, I've made you look like you have a head full of tiny snakes." Sor reached down to tickle Sulak's sides for a moment before hugging the younger boy close. "Thank you all the same though."

"I hope he does," Siris murmured in a moment of seriousness. "If only to find that piece of happiness we all are searching for."

Sulak gasped, eyes bugging slightly at the idea of being given such a hairdo. He squirmed and laughed for the tickling, though, but settled back against Sor like it was second nature once he relented.

"You wouldn't do that! It was so pretty last time," he pointed out, reaching to idly touch the remaining ties. "Do you want me to try with yours?"

"It was just a simple braid before, Sulak. Nothing all that special. You think too highly of me." Sor let him go though with a pat on the back once he was up. "If that's what you want. You don't have to though. You've already done so much for me between my hands and my ears. Why don't you go take a look at your hair and if you don't like it then I'll do something else, how's that?"

Sulak cocked his head slightly, uncertain why Sor seemed to have so little self-confidence. It was becoming more apparent to him the more time they spent together. "No, it's what friends do," the boy pointed out. "I'm not that good at it anyway. You are."

At his prompting Sulak bounced to his feet, hurrying to go look at himself in their mirror. The intricacy of Sor's braiding took his breath away and for a few moments he just stared at it, turning this way and that in a moment of vanity and releasing a small squeal of excitement.

"It's perfect!" he finally announced, hurrying back out to sit with him as he petted along one of the braids. "So light and pretty. I love it!"

Sor stared at the boy in surprise. He had not realized that they were friends and his heart skipped a bit in excitement at the realization. When Sulak returned he reached out to ruffle the boy's hair, enjoying the feel of the braids and loose strands running like silk through his fingers. "Well thank you. I'm glad you like it. You have such pretty hair, very soft and easy to work with. Not everyone is as lucky as you. My hair doesn't usually behave as nicely as yours. Do you still want to braid it then?"

He nodded eagerly, studying Sor's hair curiously. He didn't see what he meant about it being unruly; he thought his hair was quite beautiful, especially with his eyes.

"Yeah, as long as you don't mind me doing it. I probably can't be as gentle as you," he pointed out, settling on his legs and reaching to take up his brush to offer, "Would you like me to brush it first?"

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Sor sighed, closing his eyes in expectation of Sulak beginning right away. When he did not though, he peeked an eye open to look at the young boy. "It's entirely up to you Sulak. Do whatever you like. You have complete freedom right now. All I ask is that you don't intentionally yank it out or cut it off." He closed his eyes once more, tense with anticipation for what Sulak would do. He was literally putting his hair's safety in the other boy's hands.

Sor's trust in him was unexpected but greatly appreciated and the younger boy smiled warmly as he reached out to carefully take a handful of his white hair and gently brush it out until it was soft like feathers. He did that for sections of his hair until it was all smoothed out before setting the brush aside.

Very carefully he pooled all of Sor's hair over one shoulder and started pulling one large, loose braid together just below chin length. A few wisps escaped that he had trouble wrangling but he focused on making the main braid even so it wouldn't pull on the Maoin's scalp. "Doesn't hurt, right?" he asked softly.

Sulak's gentle care sent pleasurable tingles up and down Sor's spine. He was quickly discovering that he loved having someone play with his hair. It was quite possible, although he was unwilling to reflect on it, that it was Sulak who made it so enjoyable and not the actual hair-play itself. "Not at all," he mumbled contently, a faint smile reflect on his face. "You've been amazingly careful. Thank you."

Sulak blushed slightly for the compliment, a happy grin lighting him up as he gently worked his way down the strands of hair before tying off the braid at the ends, securing it with the tiniest of bows as his only mark of style.

Leaning back to sit on his legs the young artist studied his work with pride, reaching out to make a small adjustment and brushing a stray strand back away from Sor's face and tucking it behind his ear. "You look nice. Your face looks better when your hair isn't in the way," he pointed out with a soft giggle.

"You think so?" he asked softly, blushing darkly and feeling the heat spreading from his ears all the way down to his chest. "Would you like me to do something else with your hair? I can maybe make a different hairstyle if you'd prefer something more exciting." Sor felt incredibly self-conscious and unsure of himself in that moment. He did not know what to do now that Sulak had finished and hoped that if he offered something he knew Sulak liked then he could escape the awkward horror of just sitting there with nothing to say or do.

Sulak shook his head vehemently, smiling some as he felt the braids swaying gently with the motion. "I like what you did! It's pretty and soft."

The younger boy studied Sor curiously for a few moments, sensing his unease. "Are you performing soon? Do you want me to paint you?" he offered, casting a glance towards where Tarj was working on Siris, the baskets beside the table containing plenty of colorful body paints in addition to their inks.

Sor's eyes widened in surprise at the suggestion. "Paint me?" he repeated, skeptically, his eyes darting to look over to where Siris and Tarj were working. "Like what Master Tarj is doing to Master Siris? I'm not sure I'm ready for that. I've been told it's very, very painful." Sor gulped down her nervousness as he unconsciously began to pet his new braid with both hands in order to self-soothe himself.

Sulak hesitated for a moment, head whipping from side to side just looking between the older pair and the boy until he understood he'd meant the tattoo. "Oh! No, no, I don't think I have enough practice yet anyway. Just, um- Paint. On your skin. Over your skin, not in it," he offered in explanation. "There's lots of pretty colors!"

"Oh," Sor replied, feeling incredibly stupid for not knowing that was a possibility. "But won't we get in trouble? Are the paints meant for that even?" He looked apprehensively again towards the older men as another more pressing thought began to worry him further. "How much will it cost? I don't have a lot of spending money yet and," he flushed in embarrassment, tugging on his braid sharply. "I don't want to make Master Siris pay for it all."

"They're special paints!" Sulak insisted excitedly, "They just go over your skin and wash off later." He'd watched his mentor paint many Maoin and festival-goers for special events when colorful art was desired on a more temporary basis.

"Don't worry about cost. It's on me. Really, you're doing me a favor if you let me practice on you," he explained shyly, hoping he wouldn't be viewed as incompetent just because he was young and still apprenticing. Of course he hadn't gotten prior approval from Tarj for it, but he was certain his mentor wouldn't mind.

Sor frowned, worrying his lip tensely. "Are you sure Sulak? It sounds like something that would be rather expensive. I don't mind being your practice body but I don't want you to get into trouble. Maybe you should ask Master Tarj first?" His knee bounced in agitation as he continued to dart glances from the boy to the men and back again. "It's alright if he says no. I won't be upset, I promise," he tried to assure the other boy, already absolutely certain that it would not be allowed.

Sulak hung his head, feeling rather guilty since Sor had reservations about his proposal. The boy nodded wordlessly, standing up slowly to not jostle his braids. "I'll go ask," he told him, walking over to his mentor even though he was in the middle of working.

"Tarj?" he spoke softly, desperately not wanting to startle him into making a mistake. The older man paused in his work, slowly raising his head with a questioning smile. "Can I paint Sor? For practice... For free?"

The artist raised a brow playfully, barely hiding his grin to know that the boys were still having their fun. "I suppose we've become a house of cheap work, haven't we Siris?" he teased, chuckling and twisting to pull the basket he knew the boy would want away from the rest and handing it over. "Go ahead, have fun. It's no trouble."

Sulak took the basket with a small bow of thanks, hurrying back over to join his new friend and place the basket triumphantly between them. "He said we can!"

Siris chuckled softly and nodded as Sulak took off with the paints. "I'll buy you some replacements the next time I come," he promised in a whisper soft enough that the boys would not hear it. While Tarj was willing to let them have their fun, Siris understood that it was likely something that Sulak and Sor would like to do more and more often. Purchasing the paints so that Sulak could practice more was a very small price to pay for the group's happiness.

"Alright," Sor replied, his bottom lip popping out from between his teeth as he spoke. "Um, is there anything you need me to do? Do I need to take my shirt or pants off?" He blushed faintly at the idea of taking his clothes off but did his best to seem as confident as his mentor always appeared to be.

Tarj frowned at his offer, shaking his head wordlessly before resuming his work in silence. After a few moments to think on it he offered the counter-argument, "It would be hard to keep them separate from the others. I already have enough that they can use, I'll just get more when I need it next for work. I don't want you to trouble yourself with something you'll never use."

Sulak laughed nervously, looking Sor up and down for a moment before shrugging helplessly. "Yeah, either or both, but I could just do your face and hands if you don't want to," he offered, hoping he wasn't going to scare the shy Maoin off.

"When you need more, you tell me and I will get it. Sulak needs to learn and it's in Sor's best interest to have something to do when he's waiting for me. Just allow me to pay for the inconvenience. You can consider it me being Sulak's benefactor and aiding in his education under your wise tutelage."

The Maoin just was not going to take no for an answer. If Sor had known what the adults were talking about though, he would have been mortified. He already felt like a burden and knowing that even in a joke someone would suggest that would have broken his little heart.

Instead however, he was focused on Sulak and the young boy's enthusiasm. "Well I suppose wherever you need to learn painting on the most would be best. You can paint anywhere you want Sulak. I trust you."

Tarj frowned but gave it some real thought before arguing it. If Siris truly wanted to give them the tools to practice with it wasn't really his place to deny him that. "You're very kind, friend," the artist finally sighed his acceptance and gave a lopsided smile. "I'm sure they'll appreciate that."

Sulak could barely contain his excitement, eyes wide in awe that Sor actually trusted him to use him for practice, and anywhere at that. "Well... Maybe just your shirt, then. There's a lot I can do with your torso," he offered, picking through its contents to pick out a few different brushes and find jars of paint in the colors he wanted: white, blue, and green.

"Alright," Sor replied nervously. "I'll just...get to it then." He moved to his knees and then began to tug the shirt up over his body, revealing the developing lines of his torso and shoulders. When the article of clothing was at last off, he meticulously went about folding it just so before placing it on a pillow to the side. "Did you want to work on the front? The back? The side? What's best for you? Should I be sitting or standing?"

Sulak studied him clinically, mapping out the older boy's body as he set the things he wouldn't need aside. "You can sit up straight or stand, whichever is more comfortable for you," he offered with a warm smile, noticing Sor's nervousness but uncertain what it was for exactly and hoping to put him at ease by not making demands of him. "I'll start with your front if that's alright. Is there anything special you want in it?"

"I'll sit then I suppose," Sor stated, adjusted his position to sit cross-legged and ramrod straight. "Is this alright? Should I lean back more?" Sor pushed his shoulders back, thrusting his chest out more for easier access to Sulak. "Whatever you feel like doing is fine. I'm not picky and I'm interested to see what you think is best."

Sulak couldn't help but giggle for the way Sor sat so stiffly. "Just relax," he laughed, reaching out to try to guide him to release the tension in his shoulders. "I want to try water. Um, waves."

He studied him for a few moments more before dipping one of his brushes in a light blue paint, keeping a hand out to steady Sor by his shoulder as he began painting the outline to snake from his hip and curl up to his chest. He hadn't even thought about how the hair of the brush and cool paint might feel along his skin.

Sor gasped softly at the cold paint touching his skin suddenly. He did is very best to remain still yet squirming was inevitable. The brush just tickled too much. As Sulak finished a line and lifted his brush to start a new one, the older boy had to reach out to grasp his rest. "Maybe try with a bit more force? It's hard to stay still if you're so light-handed," he suggested tensely, hoping that his new friend would not consider it an insult but also understand that he was tickling him.

Sulak lifted his head, hearing out Sor but not quite understanding why he was being asked such a thing. He was eager to accommodate him, though. "Yeah, like this?" He drew his next line with a bit more pressure, frowning slightly at the way the brush fanned and smudged the paint a bit.

"Oh... It looks kind of weird like that, it's not even," he observed, frowning in thoughtful concentration as he attempted to correct it with the same amount of pressure and figure out the angle he needed to hold the brush at to achieve the same effect as before.

Once he finally fixed it his features relaxed to happy distractedness as he continued to outline the rest of it before beginning to add more detail with darker blues, greens, and white. "Any better?"

The older boy breathed a sigh of relief. "Much better. It tickled before," he admitted, clearing his throat and trying to remain completely still for Sulak. Each stroke of the brush was still as light as a feather and he could feel the paint sticking to him like clay. He did not dare lower his head to see what Sulak was doing as he feared ruining the artwork and making his friend mad at him in the process. "How long have you been learning to paint, Sulak?"

Sulak's cheeks flushed a bit at Sor's question, a nervous chuckle escaping him. The boy fussed his lower lip a bit and continued painting in silence for a moment before his nerves were calm enough to offer a reply.

"I don't want you to be mad, but- It's not something Master Tarj is teaching me yet. He wants me to focus on the main stuff. Piercing and tattoos. This is just extra. For me. He does it, too, but not very often," he explained, offering the older boy a nervous but hopeful smile. "I mostly paint myself. Sometimes him, too... For the last two years, I think. Is that a problem? Should I stop?"

"Oh! I'm not mad," Sor was quick to assure, allowing himself to turn his head to look at Sulak earnestly. "At least now you have a proper pallet to work off of. Or well," the boy blushed and shook his head lightly, "that is once you train me properly I can be a good canvas hopefully. There's no need to stop though. You can continue. You're not hurting me and it's nothing that can't be washed off if you need to start again, right?"

Sulak relaxed and beamed, relieved that Sor wasn't offended by his inexperience. "Yeah, it washes off pretty easy," he assured him, resuming his work in earnest but also eager to continue the conversation.

"You're doing really great and not smudging it. Tarj laughs sometimes and then it looks weird," he observed with a small scrunch of his nose in displeasure. But only a moment later he was cheerful again and nodding eagerly.

"Your skin is so pretty," he noted aloud, giggling quietly to himself as he gradually worked the brush up along Sor's throat to curl a tendril of paint along his cheek. "If you like it when it's done...will you perform with it maybe? Could I come watch you?"

Sor flinched as the brush came up along his neck and onto his face. He hurried to apologize though and move back into his original position. "I didn't mess it up too much did I?" His features twisted into a deep, nervous frown at the idea that he may have ruined Sulak's hard work. "Does my skin make it easier to work with then, because you said it's prettier?"

The boy shifted his eyes to try and state at Sulak from the corner of his vision without moving his head. It was a bit painful and required a great deal of concentration but it was enough to distract him from the twinging he was starting to feel in his back and shoulders from sitting so still and tense. "Do you really wish to see me perform? I'm not all that special or any good."

He was a little puzzled as to why he was asking that. He wouldn't have said it if he hadn't meant it, so why would anyone else? Did others make him feel like he wasn't special or good? Sulak didn't know enough to judge without seeing, but with all the praises his own mentor had spoken about Siris he was certain it was impossible for the man's own apprentice to be "bad" at their craft.

Sulak paused in his painting, lifting the brush away from Sor's skin and holding the handle between his teeth for a moment as he gently manipulated the older boy's shoulders around some. He adjusted his own positioning, sitting directly before him so they could talk better.

"You didn't mess anything up. Relax, please, it's better to paint on if you aren't so tense, and- Pretty skin doesn't change anything. I just like it, I think you look nice," the boy admitted with a blush, averting his eyes to study his painting work thus far.

He blinked slowly, tilting his head one way then the other before taking the brush from his teeth to resume his work. "I've never seen you perform...so I'd like to if that's okay with you. I think it's easy to tell yourself you aren't special. Tarj always tells me I'm my own harshest critic, but- If you don't mind, I'm really curious," the boy admitted with a small smile of encouragement.

He continued his work, trying to be mindful of how ticklish the brush hairs could be as he placed careful dots and lines upon the Maoin's jaw line and further up to frame his eyes.

The older boy did his best to relax. First, he breathed in deeply and then with an exhale allowed his shoulders to sink ever so lightly and his posture to slacken. Sulak's manipulations helped in relaxing him more and Sor accepted the changes easily.

"You really want to see me dance that much?" His brow crinkled at the thought but after a slight pursing of his lips, Sor nodded his head slightly between brushstrokes. "If that's the payment you want for the painting then I suppose I have no choice after all." He smiled briefly, hoping that Sulak would recognize it as a joke even if he was feeling incredibly nervous inside about the whole thing. "When you're done if Master Siris is alright with it then maybe I can dance for you with him."

Sulak nodded eagerly at his question. He was so curious, after all, and he could only assume Sor was just underestimating and underselling his own talents even if he didn't realize it. His suggestion was surprising, though, and the boy's eyes widened considerably as he contemplated it, glancing at the elder pair across the room.

"Would he want to? He's being all...poked right now," he reminded him, frowning slightly at the idea of imposing on Siris so soon after he'd had work done on him.

"But yes!" he hurried to agree, smiling slightly and going along with his joking in a much less convincing tone, giggling all the way and trying not to mess up the paint too much as he added more detail. "You must pay me that way, I demand it."

"Well not right now, right now," Sor hurried to say. He had hoped that Sulak would not take Siris's current predicament into consideration as he was wishing against all hope that Siris would be too tired and sore to want to hop and skip around even for his dearest friend, Tarj. "But we'll see if he's able. You can always ask him. I know he won't be upset. But, if not today then I will definitely pay you back Sulak. Mostly depends on Siris though and how he's feeling."

Sulak frowned a bit at Sor's explanation, a little disappointed that if he would really need to wait and if Sor might not perform on his own for him he would likely end up doing so without temporary art upon his body.

"You really need him?" he wondered, worrying his lip a bit at the idea of being made to wait as he cast a curious look at Siris. He wasn't too sure about Maoin customs yet and was uncertain if that was customary for young apprentices or if Sor simply feared performing alone, even privately.

"I guess that's okay," he decided, sighing but trying to contain his disappointment otherwise. "At least this paint might last longer for you." The boy grinned as he added a bit more detail along Sor's shoulders, trying his best not to tickle him even though he only needed very light pressure on the brush this time. "I think this side is done... Can I do something on your back, too? Or would it be too much?"

Sor sighed in relief that Sulak was not pursuing the matter too heavily. The change of topic was quite helpful as well, causing the older boy to smile genuinely. "You can paint wherever you wish, Sulak if it will help you. Is the paint on my front dry yet or should I still be concerned about bending forward and smudging it? I would hate to ruin your newest masterpiece so soon after you creating it."

The younger boy paused, cheeks flushing a colorful shade of red at his work being called a "masterpiece." Whether Sor truly meant it or not it was still a high honor and he was not going to brush it off.

Sulak bowed his head briefly, humming appreciatively as he shuffled around to sit behind the Maoin boy instead. He pressed lightly at his shoulder with his free hand, fingertips trailing along his back as he mentally mapped out what he wanted to do.

"You can relax. Just be careful with your face, don't rub it or anything," he instructed gently. Distractedly, he dipped more paint onto his brush before resuming his work of adding splashes of blue to Sor's skin. "Not tickling again, am I?"

The older boy hummed softly at the gentle touch, finding that he actually enjoyed Sulak's hand on his shoulder and back. "I will do my utmost best then to not mar your hard work, Sulak," Sor replied softly, a faint smile unknowingly tugging at his lips. "No, no," he continued gently, "it doesn't tickle at all now. I believe you're getting the hang of it."

Pausing for a moment he just allowed the feel of the brush on his skin to lull him into a very calm state of mind. If this was anything like what Siris experienced with Tarj when he got his tattoos then Sor could actually understand why he went through it so often. At least for the boy though, he would not have to suffer the pain his master did to find such peace.

"May I ask what you're drawing? Or is it a surprise?"

Sulak's eyes widened in a moment of surprise, doubting the clarity of his earlier words for Sor's question. He sheepishly pulled the brush away from his skin for a moment to switch colors.

"Sorry, I didn't mean for it to be a mystery. Guess I didn't explain myself well earlier," he apologized, a nervous half-smile reaching his lips. "I'm making waves. Um, drawing water I guess. Needs lots of blue. Would you rather have something else? It's not too late, I can change it! It really wouldn't be any trouble."

"Oh," Sor stated dumbly, wishing that he could slap himself in the face. He would have too if he had not just promised not to smudge Sulak's hard work. "No, no it's my fault. You did say that and I forgot." Sor hung his head in embarrassment. "My mind just wandered. The painting is very soothing," he admitted quietly.

"Please continue though. There's no reason for you to stop or change. I was the one being so grossly rude. I should have paid better attention to you. I'm sorry, Sulak."

Sulak smiled privately, blushing slightly for his work being called "soothing." It was a great relief, if the Maoin was being honest with him, and also something he could really take pride in knowing.

"You've done nothing wrong, but I forgive you if it puts your mind at ease. Can I ask what you were thinking about, though?" he wondered aloud, eyeing him curiously as he continued his work with careful but deliberate strokes.

Sor pursed his lips together tightly, a slight squeak escaping them as he sucked in air through them. "You'll think me silly and simple if I told you. They're not really the thoughts of a Maoin-in-training." The boy attempted to shrug but remembered at the last minute he was meant to be still for Sulak, so simply tensed his body instead.

"I like it when you paint on me." Sor winced, not liking how the phrase sounded even to his ears. "It feels good, uh nice?" He groaned and shook his head faintly. "I've never been good with words," he grumbled under his breath, feeling even more embarrassed.

The boy chuckled softly, amused at how someone who seemed so poised to him was suddenly fumbling. It made him wonder how much of what he'd seen of Maoin before was just good acting.

"Those words are fine," he tried to assure him. "Nothing bad about it. Not silly, and I appreciate your honesty, but- Is it bad to like being painted?" Sulak cocked his head slightly in thought, glancing towards their mentors on the other side of the room. Body paint had never seemed unusual before with them or with other Maoin.

"No?" Sor tried, his heart racing within his small chest. He could not explain to himself let alone Sulak why the painting session felt so forbidden to him. Sulak was right though it really was just a natural thing for their people. Maoin were pure art embodied in human form. Painting was just another form of making them stand out as the living statues of society.

"Nevermind me. I don't know what I'm saying. I think your painting has melted my brain," he joked instead with a wink and a gentle nudge at the other boy. "Have you been painted before?"

Sulak blushed lightly for the nudge, not really understanding why Sor's gradually increasing openness and playfulness with him was affecting him so much. "Just a bit here and there," he mumbled bashfully. "Nothing like this, just smaller things sometimes with Tarj. Mostly on my face or shoulder," he clarified.

Finished with the base of his painting work the boy moved on to lighter greens and white to blend with and refine the look of water he was going for. "I think I like being the painter more," he admitted softly. "But I guess I have a long way to go to make it more...comfortable. Melting is no good- Is this any better? Or tickling?" The silver-haired boy lifted his head, eyeing Sor with genuine self-consciousness and concern over his comfort.

"Well you're a good painter," Sor commented softly. "And no you misunderstand me. It's not uncomfortable. Quite the opposite," he hurried to reassure, reaching out to touch Sulak's arm soothingly. "Good melting feeling, like chocolate on your tongue. You know?" He tried to smile at the other boy but found it difficult to concentrate over the distracting beat of his war-drum heart.

"Oh!" Sulak nodded eagerly, understanding his meaning all too well when explained through food. It still didn't explain why Sor's smile left his chest feeling heavy, but the boy was happy that his work wasn't unpleasant for him anymore.

"You have good skin for painting," Sulak tried to explain, his cheeks flushed slightly as he held his brush away and ran his fingertips along the back of Sor's still unpainted neck, relishing in the soft feeling of hair and clean skin against his hand. "Doesn't crack it."

Sor shivered, every hair standing on end as his body prickled with gooseflesh. Sulak's touch sent tingles racing up and down his spine and sparks bouncing around his brain. He never wanted the other boy to stop. "I'm glad then that it pleases you so," he murmured softly, his voice low and soft as if to speak any louder would steal his last breaths away.

"It still may crack though when I dance for you," he added, feeling more confident as a warmth spread through his entire body originating where Sulak's touch still connected them. "I suppose you'll just have to repaint it again after then. Not a horrible fate." He smiled faintly.

The boy thought nothing of the soft turn in his friend's voice, completely content in his work to know that he wasn't causing any discomfort. At the mention of dancing, though, Sulak's eyes lit up as his mouth fell open in a short, excited gasp before a wide grin overtook him.

"You really will?! I don't mind repainting. If you wanted to keep wearing it, I mean," he agreed, blushing slightly at the idea of getting such a privilege and honor with the beautiful Maoin.

With renewed excitement he hurried to dab more paint to his brush and continue the final touches against the older boy's shoulders and neck. With his free hand he gently brushed his hair aside so it wouldn't touch the wet paint and lightly flapped his hand over him to help it dry faster.