no self control {Aurelius/Open}

[Jan]

It was night; Jahel stood stock-still, his face tilted up towards the heavens, as solemn memories marched through his mind.

But the stillness was soon shattered as a voice interrupted his thoughts. A witch-hunter, he was told, a Fel’asaris as far as they could tell. His eyes narrowed almost immediately. What few Fel’asaris he had come into contact with did not earn his trust easily. Jahel prided himself in his ability to read a man’s true intentions through his body language, and they had all possessed the shifty eye and the half-twisted smile. Whatever came out of their mouth was either untrue or delivered with sarcasm, as though they were waiting to belt out a punch line that never came.

He snorted and seemed about to turn away. It didn’t matter to him. Let him do as he would.

But he was beleaguered. They insisted that a witch-hunter would be most ideal to take on witches. They knew their way around magic, Fel’asaris or not. His aid may be beneficial.

And he seemed like a nice enough fellow, they added.

As disinclined as Jahel was to entertain anyone’s notions but his own, he could not deny any thing that could be good for him. With his jaw set, his rifle slung over his back and the long saber at his waist, he turned heel and headed towards the witch-hunter. The road was lit with a few sparse torches; light was a rare source here in Howe, where dirty alley dogs fought over scraps and the homeless slept without a roof. The cobblestones were ill tended and shoots of grass spurt up from between them, like hair underneath a cap.

Like ghosts emerging in fog, he and his subordinates’ silhouettes interrupted Aurelius’s path. He stopped not five feet from him, and observed him; a male not much shorter than himself, with little to mark him for what he was. In fact, he looked fairly human by Jahel’s standards.

“Evening,” he said, but that was the extent of his courtesy.

[eemp]

Aurelius was eating dinner. It had been a long day, and he hadn't had much time, but he'd managed to surprise a coney. Which, considering the ears on those things, was pretty impressive. It was big, but it wasn't Folk big- it might have just been a juvenile, though. One could never tell, with that type. They just didn't care, you know. Lord knows if they ran a restaurant they'd have half the customers into the frying pan by the end of the first night. Aurelius declined to comment. He was busy eating dinner, after all, seated on a broken-down stone wall and looking up at the appearing crowd with his straight-line mouth and his green owl eyes. The fire had already been stamped out; dinner was served and there was no further use for it but drawing attention to himself.

He stood, the ravaged remnants of the hare settled down in a bed of herbs and vegetables that it had apparently cooked in- child of chefs, you remember- and his eyebrows raising one after the other as he stared up at Jahel. Uh. Yes? He was a narrow strip of man, condensed and wiry, and his straight, ready posture insinuated that he was not at all intimidated by this great tall man and his entourage.

Evening.
Aurelius swallowed his mouthful of rabbit and he spoke, sharp teeth barely glinting in the darkness. "Good day, sir," and in such a polite tone! For all the surroundings this man was well put-together: his clothes were clean, his voice was steady, and his eyes had yet to dart away from Jahel's face. Or blink, or waver. He had yet to figure out how disorienting and spooky that could be- eye contact was polite, but humans blink, Aurelius. The lean man did not look away, and he did not speak; merely awaited a response and an explanation.

[Jan]

Jahel approached him like a serpent, his poison hid behind a fanged smile, as he slithered up towards him and slid around him like a perfectly laid trap.

In truth, Aurelius was a mite hard to read for him. Usually a man or a woman’s body language came across easily to him, conveying fright, anger, anxiety, in a single flick of the eye or a twitch of a muscle – but this one – it seemed almost as though he wasn’t quite sure how to do it. Even the rest of the Fel’asaris he’d met had given away some sort of hint. Jahel’s lips pursed together.

It was an odd thing; a Fel’asaris, born inherently evil, and he, made so by a genetic disfigurement.

He dipped his head shortly. Jahel saw no real reason to sugarcoat anything with this one: one, he was inhuman, and second, he was not female. “They tell me you’re a witch-hunter,” he said. “A mercenary, I take it?”

He tilted his head. “Care to make some profit?”

(bwegh sorry for shortness, it won’t always be this way I promise! >w< )

[eemp]

As large as this human was, Aurelius had learned long ago not to fear the members of that race. They're aggressive at times, Aurelius, but they'll always be human, and in their soft eyes they give themselves away. Jahel moved like a serpent, but he still had weak points at his throat, at all his narrow limbs, along the freakishly huge body.

Frankly, Aurelius was a little grossed out. Has someone been playing too near the fairy rings again? You smell of death and ashes, sir. These thoughts did not reach his face, which remained quietly observant. His weight shifted onto one leg, and he rested one hand on the butt of a pistol at his hip. No need for theatrics, good sir. We are both killers, here. His posture was relaxed, almost bored, and when Jahel slithered around him he lifted his chin a bit, keeping an ear attuned to the man's movements while his eyes, unblinking, ran cold over his companions.

"I do what I can." Apparently 'finish my goddamn dinner' is no longer on the list of options. He looked back up at Jahel as the man asked the relevant question. Huh. As good as Aurelius was at his job, he was not often asked- as was being insinuated- to work with anyone. He got a description, directions, and told (in so many words) to sick'm. He was a demon and he worked alone. Therefore, his eyebrows raised a bit.

Now, as a Fel'asar, he had to lay down rules for people: they assumed he was just a monster and would do anything for cash, but such was not the case. He was on a mission from God, after all, and wanton killing was never on the menu. But there would be time for negotiations later. His words were polite, the sharp edges of his teeth barely noticeable, and his posture did not change.

"Please. Elaborate."

[Jan]

Jahel stepped back and grinned at him. “Mmn,” he grunted, as though satisfied with Aurelius’s answer.

He put his rifle butt firmly on the ground, then leaned down to sit slowly, exhaling as he did so. His dark eyes lifted up to meet Aurelius’s from where he was sitting, his languid smile and stance suggesting that he did not feel too uncomfortable with looking up at him, if at all; indeed, he seemed more interested in taking in more of the Fel’asar’s appearance. He had been under the impression that the usual Fel’asar looked more…well, deformed. This one looked fairly human under the circumstances. Red hair, green eyes...a pale, young face.

“I will,” he promised. “In a second. I feel as though introductions should be made before we come to any proper agreement.” Jahel eyed the coney that the Fel’asar had managed to catch. “I am sorry for interrupting you, but the faster we can settle this matter, the faster we both can go back to our business.”

He tilted his head up, gesturing back to some of the soldiers that stood behind them. At his signal a few nodded and stepped backwards, easing from their positions to give the two a more comfortable atmosphere to talk.

“My name is Jahel and I am a part of the Sideris Knights. Though some of us believe mercenaries are tricky bastards who would sell their own mother for some gold, I can assure you that for the most part I don’t think this is the case, and we would have trouble hunting down witches besides. You see, there’s a certain Witch around here,” he said, leaning a bit closer, his eyes growing intense; his voice got lower, forcing Aurelius to lean closer if he wished to hear. “that’s been bothering the locals. Very powerful. They say he’s a master of Fire and he’s got three Knights dead already, and I’m not ready to run in there and sacrifice more of what I’ve got.”

It took less gold to hire some mercenary that may or may not succeed rather than replace new Knights, he figured, though he did not articulate these particular thoughts to the mercenary in question.

“If you succeed, there’s heavy reward for you,” he purred – coupled with his trademark, charming smile, a small quirk of the lips. “And the gratitude of this nation’s military.”

[eemp]

Oh thank Architect. Jahel sat down and Orrie promptly followed suit, picking up the spit that held the remains of the rabbit and- oh. The man was speaking again. Aurelius listened, and wondered if Jahel meant to shake his hand. It was hardly the place for it, as his hands were somewhat covered in dinner's juices and the nearest place to wash was a few yards off. This behavior was odd, at best. Come on, human. You're supposed to be logical. That's what I like about your hunters.

The soldiers backed off and Aurelius watched, the coney still held between his hands. The faster we settle this, the faster we can both go back to our business. Lovely! I'm- oh. Yes. Jahel. Sideris Knights. Okay! No, dude, that's enough. Certain witch around here you want killed blah blah fire power blardee blar got it. Aurelius did not lean in for details- he made his living by knowing how to listen, after all- merely nodding and looking down at the shining roasted flesh stretched across the spit. The creature was still whole (aside from the flesh missing on it's hind leg and across the ribcage) and the spit that protruded from it's mouth gave it's last expression a distinctly horrified air. Which is understandable, given it's circumstances. There was no throat, and the spit was visible beneath the jaw, disappearing beneath the delicate collarbone. The coney's splitting roasted skin shone in the dim light as he raised it from it's place at his knees, and the angles of his teeth did the same as they bared, unsheathing.

Aurelius was not an animal; did not eat or behave like one. He was not a monster, but the sound of those teeth shearing flesh so easily from those delicate little animal bones was not by any stretch human. They squeaked against the cartilage and snapped the tendons like taffy, leaving an obvious gap in the animal's chest cavity shaped precisely like the Fel'asar's jaws. The man looked back up at Jahel, and after a couple seconds of thoughtful mastication he spoke, his mouth clear. He was hungry, okay? "Sir Jahel, then." Hi. Pleasure, bro. Also, I know how the militaries of your kind work. They are machines made of men and bureaucracy. You don't have to lay on the bull about gratitude and honor and duty and that shit. I answer to a higher calling, after all.

He wiped the greasy fingertips of his iron hand on the hip of his pants and he offered it out to shake. "I am called Elyon," that which comes before the end and makes ready the way for the righteous. And unlike you and your military, I have God on my side.