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Date Posted: 14:02:19 03/25/02 Mon
Author: Tristan
Subject: Keep your eyes open
In reply to: Marz 's message, "Only good snake is a dead one" on 10:09:38 03/25/02 Mon

Tristan was feeling too flustered to be embarrassed when Marz kissed him after the battle. He bent down to clean the blood off his sword with a piece of snakeskin while the others searched the general area for anything of interest. Right now, the only thing remotely interesting in his eyes was his drop dead gorgeous lover, but he refused to let himself dwell on the thought. My fault for hooking up with someone like him, he thought, studiously keeping his eyes locked on his sword as he slid it back into its scabbard. He had the sudden urge to pull Marz aside and explain to him the real reason behind his fear of public shows of affection, but figured no good could come from pulling him away right now, whatever the reason. There was just something about the aftermath of a good battle that made him want to drag that cocky ex-gang leader of his behind a pillar and…

No, no, no, Tristan, he thought, shaking his head sternly. See? It was like he had no control over himself, whatsoever. A small, nagging voice in his head did ask him why he thought he had to be in control all the time, but he pushed it aside. Stupid to think about stuff like that, anyway. Only animals couldn’t control their natural urges, and damn it, he was NOT an animal!

He realized his shoulder didn’t hurt as bad once they reached the top of the rope and put their feet on hopefully more solid ground. He flexed the muscle a couple times, smiling slightly at the barely noticeable tingly stabs of discomfort that ran up his arm. It had probably been a good idea to stretch it like that, and not let the wounded muscle cramp up too much. After all the times he’d been hurt recently, you’d think he’d know how to treat an injury by now!

His smile became a frown as he watched Tia happily dart forward and check the door ahead for traps. It had never been his great ambition to be an adventurer, traveling with a group of companions to uncover some magnificent treasure or other, but here he was, still trucking along at it—and discovering to his amazement that he actually liked doing it. The thought of settling down somewhere, even with Marz still hovering closely in the picture somewhere, left him feeling cramped and stifled, bored even. That clashed horribly with his plans of getting away for a while, just the two of them, to be alone and to finally get to know one another better, and he couldn’t quite figure out which life he really wanted more: adventurer or…lover. And you couldn’t choose both at the same time. Right?

He shook his head. Too much deep thinking again. He hurried to walk beside Marz as they moved forward through the heavy bronze door. The sweet, slick sound of steel on scabbards rang out as they all withdrew their weapons again, caution tensing them up and making them more acutely aware than normal of their new surroundings. Tristan made a noise of disgust and revulsion as they fanned out into the room, his eyes jumping from one lurid tapestry to the next. He couldn’t decide which were worse—the mutilation or the rape scenes. He turned away from the tapestries and kicked at the bones on the floor, wondering idly how the people in this room had died. He left Marz’s side to investigate a funny looking metal bed with clamps for the head, feet, and wrists. Of course, he wasn’t so naďve he couldn’t figure out it was some sort of torturing device, but he still wasn’t quite sure how it worked or what it did.

He looked up when Rowan whistled slowly, the last one to enter the room. The elf glanced around the room, taking in the sights while he quickly sheathed both his swords in one rapid movement.

“Damn! I guess we found out where they kept the sinners, huh?” Tristan rolled his eyes, though some of the others seemed to find his comments amusing, as usual. Rowan said something else about the people depicted in the tapestries not paying their monthly tithes, and he had to bite his tongue to hold back from telling the idiot to shut up already. He caught Marz grinning at the silly elf and shot his lover a questioning look.

When Rowan snuck up behind Tia to put two bony skeleton hands before her eyes and ask, “Guess who?” Tristan finally turned away from him completely. After running his fingers along the edge of the iron rack and shuddering slightly, he moved to stand beside Marz again, taking the whip from his hands and shaking his head in disgust at it.

“You boys might want to find someplace private before you start trying all the toys out,” someone whispered suddenly in his ear. Tristan flinched when he saw Rowan standing right next to him, and before he knew it, the elf had tossed an arm around his shoulders, his fingers gently rubbing against his uninjured shoulder.

“Here’s a suggestion for you, pussy cat,” he said, moving to pick up the branding tool with one hand while his other dropped to Tristan’s waist. “Put this baby right across lover boy’s forehead so you won’t have to worry about anyone touching him ever again.”

Although he was supposedly speaking to Tristan, Rowan’s blue eyes remained fixed on Marz. Tristan did NOT like the hunger in his expression while he stared at his lover like that, and he moved to shove the elf’s arm violently off of him.

“Get away from us!” he growled, and Rowan laughed, holding his hands up as if to say he were innocent.

“Your wish is my command, little dragonling,” he said, and he turned and moved toward the other side of the room to stare at the tapestries again.

Tristan made an irritated noise in his throat and threw the whip back down on the counter. “Why’s he pestering me so much lately?” he asked Marz, even though he knew his lover couldn’t possibly have an explanation for that.

“Hey! Come and look at this!”

It was Rowan, again, only this time there was no trace of teasing in his voice. Everyone moved to stand beside him, following his gaze up to one of the tapestries.

“What?” Tristan asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Stop being such a petulant little ass, Tristan, and look closely. All of you, look at that.” He pointed to a spot on the tapestry, just above the image of a screaming half-naked woman clutching at the tattered remains of her gown. When no one said anything, he turned to give them an irritated look.

“Tell me this isn’t strange: either she’s having a seizure or she’s about to be raped by an invisible rapist.” He tapped the blank area above her. “There was another person here when we entered. It looked like a man, but it had a sort of longish tail thing, and two yellow horns on its head. Now it’s gone. I mean,” he spread his hands wide and shook his head. “It’s just gone.”

A high-pitched, ominous sort of laughter echoed from the long corridor to the right, and they all turned to stare silently down the hall. Gradually, it faded away, until they could no longer hear it.

“I think,” Rowan continued quietly, “It’s safe to say we were being spied on. Well?” He nodded expectantly toward the corridor, moving to unsheathe his swords again.

“I think Tia should go first to check for traps,” Tristan said hurriedly, his fingers clamping around Marz’s arm, as if he planned to physically hold him back from going forward this time.

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