He never knew what to make of this city whenever he stepped onto its shores.  It was beautiful, no one could deny that, but he’d never turned a blind eye to those of the lower class.  Though he came from a noble family, he in no way shared the same philosophies of the wealthy here.  Part of him tried not to let his anger rise, after all: it was how they were raised.  And he knew that once that ignorance was burrowed into your head it was hard to get back out and ultimately up to them to make that decision for themselves.  Surely there were habits and processes that his own family had that others wouldn’t agree with, but at least they didn’t hurt innocents.
 
Most kept their eyes up on the colorful buildings, the pristine lamps and shining windows, but his eyes seemed to always be down on the chained ankles of those that handled the work the higher ups wouldn’t dare dirty their fingers with.  Something had drawn him here for this visit, and he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.  There was a pull in his chest, as if he was being led by some unseen force.  Whatever it was it wasn’t like the comforting tether he felt whenever he was urged to find Holly.  No, this was something almost desperate seeming.  The silent cries of the downtrodden were actually easy to hear in this city if you had the right ears for it.  And he heard it every time he visited, and yet this was something entirely different.  Something was wrong.  Something needed to be righted.
 
And for some reason that he couldn’t figure out, it felt personal.  But why…?  True that he knew people that lived here, his family had connections to many of the nobles that inhabited the beautiful structures, but it was nothing to do with them.  They weren’t close to him other than meetings in childhood or playing with their children when he was still little himself.  Those weren’t true bonds, they were simple connections, and their playtime ended as they grew older and thereby further apart.  So what could it be then? 
 
He sighed, looking upwards for once instead of down and felt eased at how starlit the sky was.  It was easy for it to get lost from the lights that lined the streets, but being an island nation put them away from other cities and the light pollution wasn’t nearly as bad.  Aside from that, his sight could cut straight through it.  To him there was no purer source of light than that of a star, though science lately was trying to give their light an ironically darker meaning.  He wasn’t sure how much he believed into it, but then he wasn’t exactly a man of science.  His head was filled with so much information that he simply didn’t want to allow space for any more of it.  Not at this point in his life at least where such knowledge would be useless to someone like himself.
 
His eyes narrowed just a bit in thought on the dotted sky.  There was something off about it.  The way they shone seemed different, but if you asked him how he wouldn’t be able to tell you.  It was merely a feeling.  Odd.  The longer he looked at them the more intense the pressure became in his chest until he had to follow it.  Whatever it was had to be very bad yet there was no alarm on the streets or coming from the businesses or residences.  Not that he could immediately see or hear at least.
 
After a few minutes of walking his feet brought him to a home.  It didn’t seem any different than other homes of the extremely wealthy that were here, but there was something on the other side of that door, on one of those floors, that was pulling him to it.  He walked up the steps of the stoop and brought his fist up, but hesitated; leaving it hovering just in front of the polished wood.  What was he doing…?  This was someone’s home, a very nice home, and he had no business here.  Every respectful bone in his body was telling him to walk back down and keep going, but he couldn’t ignore that ache at his sternum. 
 

Before he could stop himself he brought his fist down and knocked, just loud enough to be heard but gentle enough to show that he held no aggressive plans.  What was he supposed to say when the door was answered…?  He didn’t recognize this house or the number for its address, so he couldn’t fabricate some other reason of being here other than a bad feeling.  His hands moved into his pockets, it was the best he could do to suppress the urge to knock again until the door was answered.

The house was undoubtedly beautiful, both outside and in. Nemu sighed and smiled ever so slightly, stealing a little pride that part of such beauty was partly his doing. The eclectic collection of trinkets from travels past, the elegant carved wooden furniture and smooth floors had a sheen that would reflect the light of a fire in the most spectacular way. There was a system, you see. A little here one day, a little there the next - only so much dust could settle in a single day and Master Croft hardly noticed the condition of his collection of excessive extravagances. Before, Nemu would rush about trying to dust everything, stoke every fire, polish every candlestick - Master would insist very strongly this is how it must be done, or there was no point. But rushing is how things are left undone and worse, how things are broken.

The smile faded and Nemu gently tapped his upper lip where the skin had been broken. The black eye from last night was only vaguely visible anymore, but the lip would take a little longer. The confusion as to why it happened, why it ever happened, would be eternal. It had been almost a year since he’d broken anything by his own accident. It was a small whitestone figure of a beautiful creature with four legs and prongs protruding from it’s skull. A head dizzy from fever caused a slip, and as Nemu grasped for stability on the shelves he’d been dusting that day knocked the figure along with several books down to the hard floors. There was no hiding the accident this time, the sound could be heard across the house. And was. He still had the figure, broken in pieces and lined with blood where he’d been pushed down on top of a particularly sharp piece, hidden away in the kitchen storage. The creature haunted his dreams from time to time, charging him and shredding him to pieces with those elegant prongs atop its head while Nemu could only remain still and watch it happen in horror.

Yes the house was beautiful, what with its exotic rugs and relics from travels past, but this house was a beautiful prison. In the years he’d been here, Nemu had only seen the outside from wanton looks out the window and the occasional open door. There was a courtyard in the back, you could spy it from one of the hall windows beyond the protruding rooftops that adorned the home. It had stone seats and beautiful flowers lined around it’s tall square walls. The enclosure had no door to the outside city, but Master refused access to it. One of his friendlier guests had laughed at the man’s absolute refusal to have Nemu come with them and serve wine at the small gathering, whispering that Master must be afraid the servant would fly away at the first chance of skyline.

A knock at the door shook him out of his wandering thoughts. He gazed with eyes panicked at the front door. It was rare Nemu was allowed to answer the door, and only ever at Master’s explicit request. But master was gone, left for a couple day’s business trip this morning. Never, not once in all his time here, had someone come to call on the house when master was away. It was rare, to be honest, that they called when he wasn’t away. Nemu’s heart began to race, a cold sweat chilling his skin. What to do? To leave the visitor unanswered - what if Master was expecting a delivery, or failed to inform a friend of his leaving. To make it seem as though the house was unattended, if the knocker at the door was a thief who saw Master leave this morning… What to do??

Perhaps, just maybe. If the door was opened ever so slightly. Just a polite response and a quick dismissal - that would be safe. That should be safe. No harm at being polite for Master’s visitors. The person at the door was likely nobody, just a lost person at the wrong address. Master would be none the wiser. This, Nemu convinced himself as he trembled his way to the door. Heel toe heel toe, one two one two he made his way towards the door with great consciousness of every movement of his body as though he was controlling the strings of his own marionette. He placed his trembling fingers on the door handle and slowly pulled down and inwards - just enough to show his face to the visitor.

”Yes, m-may I help you?”

The moment he saw him his lips parted.  Over the years he had seen his fair share of people with strange colorings to their hair, eyes, skin, but there was something different about this.  First and foremost he couldn’t tell what he was by first glance.  One might have called him human, but his limbs were just elongated enough that he knew that couldn’t be so unless he suffered some genetic disorder.  More than anything though were his eyes: it was as if he was looking into the very heavens themselves.  Never in his life had he seen such eyes; they drew him in immediately, so much so that he was lost for words and only when he realized the silence did he say something; his cheeks instantly warmer from the unintentional lengthy pause, “F-Forgive me.”  
 
His eyes blinked a few times; coming back to his senses enough to look past his shoulder into the house as much as he could, which was hardly at all since the young man was making sure to keep his body blocking the small crack he’d allowed.  Even from what he could see it was nothing strange.  “Are you the master of the house…?”
 
That was when he first noticed it: the fading purple around his otherwise flawless eye.  Something or someone had struck him and for reasons unbeknownst to him he felt a spike of anger.  It could be nothing, people are clumsy…  Yet for some reason he doubted it had anything to do with fumbling feet or unsteady shelving.  There was also a mark at his lip that resembled the cut left by a quick knuckle far too easily.  If he could only see him more he’d be able to try and figure out more about his status in the household, but doubt was edging in the recesses of his mind about him being the master.
 
“If you don’t mind me asking, has there been an emergency here by chance…?  Is anyone ill…?” When he arrived and spoke to someone he thought that the worry would have ebbed away, but if anything it was only rising higher now that he was interacting with someone.  What could that possibly mean?  He knew of those that were blessed with the gift of clairvoyance, premonitions, divination –things of that nature – but he was no such person.  So what could any of this mean…?
 

More than anything though, he wanted to know who had struck him.  Because now that he had noticed the markings on his face he couldn’t see anything but them.  For now though, he pulled his lips in to keep from speaking so that the other could have a chance to respond.

The man, he just stood there, hands in his pockets and staring. He’d seemed a nice young man, well dressed with a pleasant face. Nemu flashed a quick smile at the visitor, secretly hoping to receive one in return but none came. Just silence, which quickly reached a level of discomfort that was almost stifling. Is there something wrong? The words failed to be expressed out loud out before the stranger apparently snapped out of his trance, apologized and then asked the most bizarre question.

“I’m sorry, Master Croft is…away.” Nemu held his voice back, though the man seemed well enough here he stood, a stranger, claiming to be unaware of whom the Master was and appeared to be trying to sneak a peek at the room behind him. No, best to remain ambiguous and make it seem the house would be empty for only a moment lest the visitor happens to be far less pleasant than he seemed.

There, again - the man had returned to his staring. Those eyes seemed concerned, almost empathetic and yet they were ferocious. Nemu could feel his heart rate spike, the raw intensity of sharp emerald eyes bearing into his own making his hair stand on end. What is it he wanted? Why had he come? Suppose the man was sent by Master to check, to spy on him, just to be sure he wasn’t doing anything inappropriate. Inappropriate, such as this, Nemu thought to himself. The door had been open far, far too long at this point, yet there were no signs the man was about to leave anytime soon. Instead, he just stared. No words, absolute silence, just as before. Look somewhere, everywhere, anywhere but don’t look back. Nemu felt his eyes darting about, looking for a point of interest to weaken the intense pressure. That’s when he took notice - the night sky.

The stars were well in vision tonight, bright and twinkling against the endless field of velveteen black sky. A warm and buzzing calm ran throughout his slim body as he unwittingly began to emit a soft glow. For a short moment the stranger and his unyielding gaze passed into the distant background and Nemu’s nerves stilled themselves. The night sky - his home. Former home, anyways. Beautiful and cold, clear and bright - It’s not as though he’d ever get to return, but there was comfort in the fact it still existed. That darkened sky had become a symbol of tranquility in a life that’d become anything but. Particularly at that moment. This moment…

Oh. OH the man - Had he said something? He had hadn’t he, what was it? Nemu’s wide-eyed gaze snapped back to the stranger at the door and the present. Jumping slightly at the sudden reality check he drawing himself backwards, stepping atop the silvered chains that linked his ankles, hand gripped tightly, trembling on the door’s inner handle. The warm calm from before had all too quickly turned into a surge of prickling nerves and Nemu desperately fumbled for words that would lead this whole uncomfortable situation to quickly resolve itself.

”N.. no, Master is - not home. May I take a message?”

Something was wrong. The longer he talked -which admittedly wasn't that much- the more he realized what kind of situation this was. But he'd gotten a crucial piece of information from him: the master of the house was gone. Normally this would prompt him to leave, but the stutter in the other's voice, the fear in his eyes, was what kept him there. There was also the fact that he had started to glow. What…in the world was he? Stranger still, despite the fear, despite the obvious abuse, when that soft glow started he felt the tension in his chest ease just enough for it to be noticeable.


That's when he realized what had happened, where the pressure had come from, that worry, that tension, it was him. Whoever and whatever he was had been what called him here. Why though…? It couldn't be merely for the abuse. Unfortunately he'd seen enough of that over the years to learn the hard way that he couldn't stop all of it. In this city alone there was enough horrible treatment of others that he would have been hailed long ago if that were the only reason. That light though, there was something different about it, something that was drawing. He wasn't sure whether or not he was comfortable with it or not, being drawn, but it wasn't something he'd dwell on: there was time for that later.


As tempted as he was to reach out and check him he held back the urge. People were known to develop flinches from such terrible treatment being inflicted and he didn't want to be associated with that. Instead he fought down the lock in his jaw and managed a well meant smile, "I see. Would it be all right if you and I spoke then, perhaps…?" He wanted to learn more about him, maybe even find a way to get him out of this situation…aside from that, he couldn't deny that he wanted to figure out what he was and why that light was pulling him. Where had that light even come from…?


The smile faded whether he liked it or not, unable to ignore the clear marks on his face. If nothing else, he at least wanted to offer help with that, "Would you like me to heal your face…?" Already the palms of his hands started to warm themselves in preparation.

He.. just wants to speak? Was that all? Speaking to someone, it was never strictly forbidden per se, the situation had just never come up before. Master would typically have him confined to an unused room when the rare guest actually came into the house, told to keep quiet and stay put - but speaking? What could he say?

”I’m. Not entirely sure.” Nemu whispered, tilting his head. “If we can speak, that is.”

He desperately wanted to. If Master found out what he was doing, there would be a sound thrashing but, what could the man want to speak of? He looked different than the average person of the city, or as much as Nemu could tell from his window observations. Perhaps a traveler, then he’d have seen many things. What was the city like? What was it like outside the city? Struck by fierce curiosity, the glow returned - faint, but stronger than before. Master would thrash him if he ever found out, but Nemu might never have a chance like this again. Just a simple question, that should be fine. Countless strings of words rolled through his head, getting caught in his throat. Nothing would come out. Before he could even ask the first question, the smile faded from the man’s face and he spoke first.

Ah. So he’d seen the leftovers from last night’s beating after all. He shied just slightly behind the door, bringing a hand to the cut on his lip. ”This is, nothing, please don’t pay it any attention.”

Shut the door. Excuse yourself and shut the door. Survival instincts were raging at him. The wounds were quickly healing but the memory remained fresh enough to feel. While the man was currently blocking him from view of the street, anybody passing by would have noticed that he’d been speaking to someone through the door. Someone inside, when the only person living in the house was supposed to be gone. Master would find out, he would know for sure - but his hands, wrapped tightly around the door’s handle, wouldn’t budge. They held firm, elbows locked and trembling slightly as he struggled with his fear and the insatiable, feverish curiosity about this stranger at the door and what they could possibly speak of.

”W-what is your name?”

His heart fell as did his shoulders when he said he wouldn't be able to speak. This was hard, he wasn't used to being under such specific conditions. Namely, he didn't want to draw too much attention to the house, sometimes eyes were more dangerous than the back of a hand. And he for sure knew that he wouldn't be able to ignore the markings on his face, though for his sake he tried not to look them over as much as he had been. The warmth in his palms cooled, already knowing that if it was this difficult to get him to talk to him then it would be an even longer stretch to convince him to let him help the healing process. Maybe it was a good thing, after all: the one who put them on him would be able to tell that they were gone faster than normal.


Even though he was tentative, not even allowing himself to move from the door, he could tell that the young man wanted to say something…he just wouldn't let himself. It was almost too easy to connect the dots of his role in this house, and his jaw was locking all over again thinking about the hundreds more that were bound to others in this city. How had he ended up here…? He looked practically breakable, he couldn't imagine raising a hand to someone so frail seeming.


His lips parted, eyes widening in surprise when he asked his name all on his own. Good. There was some hope for helping him yet, best not to waste any time, "Naota Uharu." That glow was emmitting even stronger, so much so that he fought to keep from taking a step towards him. Before he would leave him tonight he'd make sure to question him about it without seeming too overly curious.


"I don't know the master of the house, but I'll do my best to keep him from finding out about us conversing." His eyes moved to the side towards the street, thankful for the hour and keeping the foot traffic light. The streets wouldn't always be barren though, even in an area as lavish as this. "Would you be more comfortable if I came inside…? Or came at a later time this evening…?" At least that way more people would be tucked in for the night.

Naota. Naota Uharu. He just met Mr. Naota Uharu - met him. Not once, not even in the expanse of the starry sky had he ever met someone before. On land, he had gotten to know the occasional person, but this - it was different. Nemu flashed a wide smile at the man, the galactic coloration of his eyes put in motion from the excitement and sheer joy of meeting a person, as a person for the first time.

But just as fast - the smile was gone. Replaced by a cold chill as the instincts returned. Somehow, this man had found out Master would be angry at their interaction. Or, he had known all the time. A trick? No, the paranoia from before - it didn’t feel right, didn’t fit. Naota surely wasn’t a spy in the employee of Master. Couldn’t be. But what he asked, to be let in. No amount of curiosity could override that strict rule that, aside from never opening the door to begin with, absolutely nobody was to be let inside. Ever, for any reason unless Master himself allowed it.

”I.. I can’t. I can’t let you in.” Would that he could, he wanted to cry. He could feel the stinging pain welling up behind his eyes, but the tears never came. They never did, despite all attempts he just could not cry. So, Naota would leave, then. The one person in this world he knows, and he’d be gone. Nemu pressed the side of his head against the edge of the door and looked down at his feet, please don’t leave. Stay. Just a bit longer - I want to talk with Naota just a bit longer. The wanton curiosity to ask questions from a strange man at a strange house wasn’t satisfied, not yet. The instinct to avoid making any trouble was devoured in its wake, there must be a way - somehow, somewhere nobody would pay attention.

“The kitchen…” Yes, the kitchen, of course! In the back of the kitchen was the only other door to the outside streets. The service door he had heard it called, though it had never been used. Master never once ate at home in all the years he’d been there - he favored the business clubs and restaraunts, or so Nemu had overheard from one of the guests. The door opened onto a narrow alleyway, lined with rough stones and covered with leafy debris where nobody bothered to keep the passage clean.

Nemu’s voice dropped to a faint whisper and he leaned in towards Naota’s face, eyes wide and pleading as he cupped his hand beside his mouth to direct the voice in the man’s direction. “The door - it’s by the alley.”

Yes, this was definitely the right direction to go. His own eyes widened as the other's shifted and changed, warping in such a similar way to the heavens that he couldn't stop himself from looking up towards the sky. Though it was very brief. No…Could that be where he'd come from? Was that even possible? They had never even reached past the sky here. Maybe his people were just closely linked to celestial magick.


His feet stayed planted, even after he told him that he wouldn't let him inside. When he was honest with himself he knew that that option wasn't a very viable one, but he was getting too eager to help this poor timid person do something for themselves. Without any hesitation he nodded to his suggestion, tilting his head towards him to hear where to go. Still no one around them, but he wanted to make sure not to be too obvious and straightened himself back up. Alley, that shouldn't be too hard, and was almost a one hundred percent guarantee when it came to keeping unseen. Even if people decided to stray out and about into the night, there was very little chance that anyone would be going through such a dark and unnecessary place. "Five minutes."
 

Even those two words were barely above a whisper as he started to walk backwards away from the door, being careful of any steps. He didn't want to take his eyes off of him, almost as if looking away would cause something bad to happen…The master was away, but was he the only other person there? Could he be? Despite moving away from him, the painful pressure did not start in his chest again, which he took as a good sign as he continued down the street.


Going straight from the door to the back of the house would be too suspicious should any curious eyes be looking on. Every house was so large that doubling back took longer than he would have liked, but he did make it to the alley.


From the increased darkness due to the shade of the buildings alone he felt the temperature drop, and the crunch of leaves underfoot coupled with that made him nostalgic for fall. He liked it, but he didn't necessarily like the reasoning for having to go back here in the first place. At least they'd be able to talk more freely, maybe he'd let himself open the door more or step outside into the alley with him. Being so subjugated though, he didn't blame him for his hesitation.
 

If not for his ability to see through darkness he would have had trouble making out his footing, and the soft glow of his eyes aided in that. He gave it two heartbeats before very softly tapping on the door.

Naota was soon out of view and Nemu finally let the door click shut. What are you doing? He stared, eyes wide, down the dark corridor of the empty house and nervously clutched at his tunic. Those familiar walls and halls and the myriad of Master’s collection, they felt oddly cold. Oppressive and looming, they watched him from every angle in silent judgement. Stay here. This is wrong, you’ll get in trouble, Master will find out - his head was quickly filled with fearful thoughts that kept him pinned, back against the door and trembling. 

But there was this intense pulling - Like he could feel the man walking around the building, as though the two were connected by an invisible rope that urged him to go forward. Never before in his life had Nemu felt anything like this - this conflict. Two intensely opposite feelings that were threatening to tear him apart. Go now, stay here, he’ll be waiting, you’ve talked too much already, hands clawed at the sides of his shaking head, pulling at his hair with eyes shut tight. What to do, what to do? He had to pick one or the pressure would kill him right there.

Forward. Go forward. The first few steps were stiff, deliberate and calculated. ”Five minutes.”, Nemu chanted to himself as he cut his way through the oppressive emptiness. Steps grew bolder - faster and faster until he was practically running through the hallways, the silver chain between his ankles threatening a nasty trip at any moment. He had become maniacal by the time he reached the door, clawing feverishly at the various locks and latches that struggled against him, creaking from years of unuse. The glow emanating from his body was brighter than it had been in years when he finally managed to swing the door open, putting him face to face with the man from the door before.
  
”Naota Uharu.” He paused, out of breath and heart pounding as he stood and stared eyes wide in disbelief at the man. He was here, really here he’d come to the back door to see Nemu, just Nemu himself. The dam broke, questions streamed out rapidfire and random in a verbal assault with a fervent need to know. ”W-Where are you from? What is the city like, have you been to a lot of places? What were they like? Do you live in a house? How did you get your name? Why are you here? Why here?”