Chapter Eight #2
Let it lie, for the moment. Study further. Learn more.
“I told you that you’d have to let go,” Zyr said, words spoken to lips still close enough to kiss. “We can go now if you’re ready. Chair aside, I’m not without some modicum of self control.”
“Yeah, well, I’m glad one of us has some. I suck at it,” Robin said, easing his grip on Zyr’s hair, then releasing him entirely. “Better at it when in a certain headspace or at work, but otherwise, I think ‘I want this’ or ‘I want to do that’ and my hands are already moving.”
He licked his lips, shifting back, a motion that prompted Zyr to, regrettably, release his ankle.
“Ah.” Hardly an eloquent addition, but what else might he say? Something had slipped, and Zyr wasn’t sure why.
That, was the problem with exquisitely crafted, mechanical things. Elegant and controlled, until a gear missed. And then it all wound down. What was powerful could also be delicate. Such traits weren’t in conflict.
“I’m not used to losing my head over a guy I met less than twenty-four hours earlier.”
Sharp on sharp. That was how finely balanced mechanisms broke.
“Your impulses, regarding me, have been entirely welcome. As I hope I’ve made clear.” Zyr knew he should stand as well. But he didn’t, yet. “I’m not in the habit of this, either. But you, Raven-Robin, are singular.”
“You need to meet more people who work in cubicles,” Robin replied, his precision both less sharp and less inviting. “I’m a dime a dozen. Which I am fine with. The most unique parts of me come from Faerie. Like a beithir with a fixation and a Solstice king brother.”
Tapping the floor with his barbed tail, Zyr refrained from rejoinder. He pushed himself to his feet, abandoning the wreckage of his chair. No great loss. He would get in touch with those who moved through the human world and procure another one.
“Allow me to show you my collection, handsome bird. And then you’re welcome to opine on my ‘fixations’ and my judgment.”
They nearly made it to the library before the wards tripped.
Instead of offering Robin a tour of his collection, he found himself welcoming Aisling’s messenger, who bore the promised apology gift.
There were, unfortunately, Protocols around messengers and gifts.
Acknowledgement was required. A return gift, if the scales were too imbalanced.
In this case, Zyr felt he could make due with a quickly penned note.
The new text, a treatise on pre-convergence bonding rituals, was admittedly fascinating. And the interaction didn’t take long. Still, Zyr’s skin buzzed with electricity by the time he was able to show the messenger to the door.
“See you, Tryfln,” Robin called, as the fae departed.
Zyr simply closed the door with a resolute click, tail flicking in sharp little darts and jaw tight.
“Right. The library.” The words came out terse. “If you’re still willing.”
“As long as an erection isn’t a requirement for going in, I’m down to look around,” Robin replied, dry as anything.
Probably best not to offer to see to the lack. Zyr settled for a quick laugh and a shake of his head, already relaxing into the comfort of not having an invader in his home. He’d never grown acclimated to the necessity.
Now, though, it was only him and Robin.
“All that’s required is an invitation. Which you have.”
He stepped past Robin, leading the way to the heavy (and heavily warded) door that guarded his collection.
“I’ll key the door to recognize you, so you needn’t seek me out each time you wish to enter.
” he said, as he pushed it open. He took a breath, tasting old books and memory and peace.
This was his place, and the taut wariness left him like it’d never been there.
“I don’t wish you to tire of my company. ”
He stepped aside then, to allow Robin entrance. Curving walls of dark wood and spiraling stairs. Comfortable chairs here and there to read in. Tables strewn with texts and Zyr’s precise notes. Rich golden light, saturating everything. Stained glass windows that shouldn’t exist but nonetheless did.
Books and scrolls and loose paper, the work of a very long lifetime.
“You aren’t the only visitor I’ve allowed in these walls, Robin. But you’re the only one who’s been welcome in centuries.”
Zyr rarely cared how people reacted upon entering his collection, so long as they showed the correct amount of respect. He didn’t need them to appreciate what he appreciated. It was what he valued. His heartbeat. He didn’t seek others’ approval of his soul.
But Robin was different, and Zyr watched him. Took in the handsome, clever raven as said raven took in the space. His glasses made his dark blue eyes look even wider, and his mouth hung open with genuine fascination as he turned to take in the breadth of it all.
“Holy fucking hell,” he said at last, his words half a laugh. “Holy shit. Show me around?”
What word, from Robin’s wheel described how it felt, having him here. Treasure among treasures, wanting to see more. Joyful, perhaps, which sprung from contentment, then happiness. But exposed as well, a selection from the other side of the wheel.
But he and Robin had already spoken of exposure, hadn’t they? Of the allure of vulnerability.
He was staring. Luckily, Robin was staring too, though at the books.
“Of course,” Zyr said, leading the way further in.
“I fear the organization is somewhat idiosyncratic. It’s necessary, given the nature of some of the texts.
These shelves are secondary sources on the courts, all written post-Convergence.
Interesting mostly in examining how the story is told.
What do you know of the courts, Robin? Or the convergence? ”
Robin followed, sometimes beside and sometimes behind him. Then, as Zyr reached a particularly tangled collection of tables and shelves, the man’s elegant fingers found the hem of his shirt, and remained there.
“Not much,” Robin said, his attention shifting from the shelves to Zyr.
“Summer Court was all clean and light things, rule followers to the point of not standing a chance when someone fought dirty? And Winter Court ate people, according to Declan. Plus orgies. The convergence honestly sounds like a rule follower snapped, flipped a table, and took some heads while pulling the whole ‘I don’t see color’ line on people.
” He paused, giving Zyr a measuring look, and Zyr answered with a tail tap to his ankle.
“Everyone talks about it like I should already know everything. They’re used to Bo, but I didn’t learn the stuff he did. So a lot of it doesn’t make sense.”
It was a relief, that Robin admitted ignorance.
Zyr did not mind offering explanations, but debating with those who knew less and imagined they knew more was exhausting.
That he wasn’t about to be lectured on that which he knew best only proved how correct he was in identifying Robin as what he was.
Important. A treasure. Singular, to Zyr. And, as he was Zyr’s treasure, who else’s opinion mattered? (Robin’s, of course.)
“That isn’t far from what I was taught,” he said, stopping by a table stacked high with his own notebooks.
“The Summer Court was good, and the Winter Court was evil, and eventually, for everyone’s sake, those of the light brought those of the dark in from the cold, and taught them to be better than their natures.
And now there is no Summer. No Winter. No seelie and unseelie.
There are only fae, and any fae can be good, if they only try hard enough.
“For some reason, the opposite is never considered a possibility.” He glanced over at Robin, smile sharp. “Or, as the redcap from yesterday might put it, people are meat, and the seelie are happy enough to grab a slice, when they’re hungry enough.”
“Get a bit nippy ‘nuff, an’ everyone’ll be easier to see as a snack. Looks the sames as any, once you get the head gone,” Robin said, in a clear imitation of the redcap’s manner of speech.
Zyr chuckled, if briefly. “I wouldn’t attempt that to their face. Though if the urge is overwhelming, be sure I’m with you.”
“I appreciate it. Though I’d need to make sure to not do it in front of the manticore too.”
“True enough.” What had they been speaking of? The courts. “Those behind the Convergence, our Monarchs, would say our redcap and manticore acquaintances are exactly the problem. Bloodthirsty killers. But they would shed less if they weren’t hired to do so. And it’s the seelie doing the hiring.”
“Hypocrites. I know the type. In my experience, the cruelest people are the ones who think that by pushing their will on others, they’re doing good.”
“My experience has been similar.” Best not to dwell on those memories. “Before the convergence, the courts transitioned every few centuries from one to the other. When those in power grew reckless or lazy or overconfident, the other court would take control.”
“That’s a slow election cycle.”
“More of a slow assassination cycle. But it was still a cycle, in balance. And that balance was important. Because, at its core, the Summer Court represents that which sustains.” He picked up a polished stone from the table, and held it up for Robin.
“And the Winter Court represents that which disrupts.” The stone became a brilliant flame, dancing in his palm. “A system requires both to function.”
Robin made a quiet, appreciative noise, barely more than an exhale, a half smile on his lips.
“Bo’s the Summer Lord, though. And he’s not seelie,” Robin said, gaze still on the flame. “Was Faerie desperate enough for new boyfriends that it settled for him?”
Zyr closed his hand, and the fire guttered to nothing. Though, the way Robin had watched the little demonstration made it tempting to do another. There were wonders, here. Not little tricks, but true wonders. Would those eyes light up to see them, as they had when he entered the library?
One thing at a time.