It had been so long since he’d visited the cradle. In many ways he was fearful of this place: it had been where he’d landed when he’d first fallen. That was many millennia ago, before there was a city here or any society whatsoever. The people of Revaliir had changed so much over time that his journals upon journals of studying them would never run out. He’d chosen his camouflage long ago. There was only one chance to do so in order to fit in, and with a flip of a bicolored stone he’d chosen ‘male’. So, whenever he needed to fit in with everyone else, he willed his body to change to that of the masculine gender.

It was odd, making himself temporarily ‘human’ as opposed to his usual genderless form. With it came not only their very basic anatomy in comparison with his own, but the flurry of emotions that were near uncontainable. He didn’t like it, it always left him feeling vulnerable. Even while ‘human’ there were things he could do that were supernatural by their standards, but nothing so great as when he was in his natural form. While being himself, he merely seemed androgynous in face and voice, but the mind was easy to persuade and usually he only had to drop a hint of him being a male and people would reassure themselves that they’d always known so. It made the transition easier whenever he had to change into being ‘human’.

Though no matter what, he could never hide the natural bright glow of his snow-white hair, or the light of his ice blue eyes. Thankfully, there were so many races and species here that glowing hair and eyes weren’t too strange these days. Honestly, if he’d known what was in store for Revaliir those thousands of years ago when first he fell, he might not have chosen a species so ordinary as human. But, he wasn’t one to live in regret.

Still, he preferred his solitude more often than not, especially when he was nervous, and this place definitely did that to him. He pulled his hood down more over his eyes, able to see through the cloth with the strength of his vision, but it still made him feel safer. His journal was tucked safely in the inner pocket of his jacket, and he shoved his hands in deeper to his pants pockets. When he’d fallen here it had been nothing more than a snow filled dome into the earth. He’d been so worried that he’d been the one to cause it when he’d landed out of breath on his back, that his first few moments on Revaliir were filled with a different kind of panic. Now the memory made him laugh, though not without a taint of bitterness.

Now though, everything was so different. There was a city, a religion, and all walks of people coming in and out daily. One day, he thought to himself, I might even live here… That day would still be a ways off if it ever did come. He stopped a block off from the cathedral and slowly rose his eyes up to the night sky. The stars looked so different to him, seeing as he could see them for what they really were. His family was up there, and he could see their shadows even from here. Unfortunately, they hadn’t even realized he’d gone missing…Time worked so different on Revaliir, so much slower. He knew that to them he’d only just left his threshold mere minutes ago. Not…thousands upon thousands of years to these ground dwellers.

A group of adolescents walked by, laughing amongst their group as they passed in front of him on the sidewalk. His eyes followed them behind the cloth and his fingers itched to pull out his journal, to follow them, track their every move and study them like the everchanging species that they were. Not all of them were human, and that made it all the more interesting. But no, he didn’t want to seem too obvious. Instead he stepped back and leaned against the wall before sliding down into a sit at the mouth of the alleyway: close enough to the sidewalk to see passerby, but not be right underfoot. Hopefully he wouldn’t appear homeless.

Really he just wanted to feel normal, and for him that meant sitting and watching. He was always watching. That was what had caused him to end up here in the first place, and now he had no way back…Why had he decided to come here? Was it because he’d fallen here and it was the closest connection he had to home…? Most likely. But after only an hour or so of sitting in the snow and not working his nerves down, he decided to move. He stood and quickly walked to the first establishment he happened to go by. It was a tavern and his bones felt as if they were thawing from the contrast of cozy heat.

All around him were voices, laughter, interwoven conversation. He wasn’t sure what was worse, this or outside. Normally he’d enjoy it, but right now it was a scratching buzz against the inside of his scalp. With closed eyes he moved the short distance to the bar and leaned against the counter with his forearms. A hidden face under a hood wasn’t uncommon in a tavern so he didn’t lift it, and softly ordered his drink of choice before sitting at one of the stools and waiting for the tender to produce.

'Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!' Anon Y. Mous was scolding itself. That encounter had been far too close, that man was beginning to catch on! After fifty years, it was about time, too. How could one catch water that so swiftly runs between one's fingers? It was how Anon has been trying to live, the game that the man and Anon was playing. Cat and mouse.

Not that Anon was afraid of him. No, It loathed the man who called himself Oberon. Of all the creatures to have following Anon, it had to be him. Oberon finally figured out that the he sought has become a face-changer. Though, It would prefer to be called an illusionist. While It did not create optical illusions to marvel audiences or the like, It changed Its appearance as It saw fit.

Oberon had been seen at Jasumin Lake where Anon had been spending quite a bit of time. Spending all this time staying ahead of Oberon, It had learned to disappear and switch faces. In this situation, the random direction of choice had been north, and It regretted the decision now. Ill prepared, most belongings abandoned, the cold was biting at fingers and feet were so cold they hurt.

At some point, after passing out from extreme fatigue, Anon was found and brought to Zets'Ki Cradle. It was put in a room to thaw, medicinal practicioners having determing 'He will survive'. When Anon awoke, the first thing It did was grabbed the blanket and wrapped itself with it as It padded over to the mirror. The face peering back was quite dashing. Silver hair, square jaw, yet smooth and graceful as an elf with high cheek bones, and dark eyes. He couldn't tell whether or not they were green or grey, not in the soft illumination of the single candle.

Now for a name, something new this time around. Several names were discarded the moment they were thought until Anon finally settled on one. "Nikolai Malthis." Even his voice was delightfully different. Deep, husky and mysterious. Yes, this look and name would do wonderfully for now. He was too cold to truly worry about his gait, or stature.

Thus, when Nikolai went downstairs, he seemed a bit haunched over, the blanket closed about him held tight with his arms. "Ah, the ice block lives! Thought we lost ya for a minute." The tavern bar keep exclaimed as she served a hooded individual sitting at the bar. Nikolai padded over to the bar and took a seat a couple from the hooded one. "Can I get ya anything, handsome? Warm soup and something to warm the blood?"

"Yes, please." Of all the places charity brought him, it was a tavern with a sweet woman tending the bar. Or perhaps she was merely flirting because she liked what she saw? Not that Nikolai could blame her, even he liked what he saw in the mirror. While she busied herself with the new order as well as helping other clients, he turned toward the other person at the bar. "Excuse me, but where are we? I seem to have gotten lost in the snow." It was a legitimate question, sincere in every sense.

His eyes moved to his drink when she passed it to him over the bar top. Someone had entered the tavern from another part and he couldn’t help his own curiosity. As the tender had seemed to know the fellow, he only nodded his thanks to her and cupped the short glass between his hands, not taking a sip at first. The amber liquid shifted slowly from the initial push and he watched it until it had stilled completely, aware of the newcomer that was now seated two stools down from himself.

He hadn’t looked at him, even though his initial attention begged him to. Truth be told, he was less talkative here even though he knew well by now how safe it was to converse with others. He still remembered well the first few dangerous years where just the sound of his otherworldly voice was enough to drive animals mad. That was ages ago though, and he’d since paid handsomely for an enchantment to make his voice safe to less sentient ears.

A deep earthy voice threaded to his ears and he was surprised that the question had been asked of him directly. When he had his hood drawn like this and kept himself more reserved, others usually left him alone. He turned his head ever so slightly towards the man, finally letting his eyes rest on him, though he kept his own face hidden under the hood all the way down to his nose. His lips parted and his eyebrows rose slowly when he saw him full on.

He couldn’t be entirely sure, but his first thoughts were that he had to be Elven, though that could simply be due to his ears. Though his high cheekbones and lithe frame only strengthened his assumption. One thing was for sure though, he was attractive, to Najima at least. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was injured or sick in some way though, from how he had the blanket wrapped around himself even while in a room full of people. Snow and cold did such nasty things to some.

The woman had called him ‘ice block’ and hinted at ‘warming his blood’. Yes…It definitely had to be the cold affecting him. His eyes moved down to his own glass, thinking about how just one swallow was enough to warm him from the inside out and then realized he hadn’t even answered. He blinked quickly and looked at him again, trying not to stumble over his words as he answered him softly, but loud enough to be heard over the conversation and clank of glass and silverware in the tavern, “We’re in the Zets’Ki Cradle, in the Zujiuchu mountain stretch…” His own voice was light and smooth, rich enough to pass for a man but gentle enough to be mistaken for a woman.

He rose his glass up to his lips and took a small swallow, eyes closing from the liquid warmth that ran down his throat. He set the drink down and opened his eyes even though it made no difference conversation wise since the other couldn’t see them beneath the hood, but honestly he enjoyed looking at him, “It’s a dangerous place to get lost, where were you trying to get to…?”

Nikolai waited patiently for the answer. From the way the hidden face turned toward him, he was sure that the person was not deaf. It seemed that whoever was in the shadows was possibly easily distracted and lost in thought. When finally the answer was given, the voice was like a gentle caress. Instantly, Nikolai was both in love with and jealous of the sound. Not once has he ever had a voice quite like that.

"Zets'Ki Cradle… Hadn't expected to go this far north…" He was frowning to himself as he pondered his location. The woman returned with an amber liquid, Nikolai blinked  with an apologetic smile. "You didn't. Misha found you and brought you the rest of the way here. You were half frozen to death. I'll have you soup out in a minute." She was gone before he could even give a nod of thanks. That heavenly voice graced his hearing once more, immediately drawing his attention. "I wasn't trying to get anywhere, really."

The answer was honest, yet the way he dodged the question made it clear he really didn't want to talk about it. After fifty years, one would think he had a good excuse as to hasty retreats. Until now, there had not been a reason to create one. To distract himself, Nikolai took a hasty swig of the alcohol regretfully as he began to cough at the sharp burn at the back of his throat. "Easy there! There is plenty more where that came from! No need to rush it into your system." Of course she had perfect timing with the soup. With a hoarse thank you, she retreated to the rest of her patrons.

As he ate each glorious spoonful of soup, some of the best he had recently, Nikolai was becoming increasingly aware of the stranger near him. That voice had only cast further mystery, and the desire to see what was below the hood began to grow. Half finished, the bowl was pushed away, his body turned toward the stranger. Feeling quite warm now, the blanket wasn't held on so tight, revealing a shirtless torso underneath. Fortunately, he did have pants. That would have been awkward.

He stared at the stranger, eyes narrowed just slightly as if he was trying to figure some logic out. "I'm wondering," Nikolai began slowly, "if you would show me what's under the hood. Surely, for a beautiful voice such as yours, the only reason to hide your face would be if it's marred in some way." Of course, he was one to say something like that, he who changed his face so often, for so long, that he has forgotten his original self altogether. "And I'm sure that's not the case. You don't hold yourself as one who's ashamed." Nikolai was bold, but he knew one thing. If one did not attempt, one did not earn, and sometimes, the reward is worth the effort.

His eyebrows rose gently as he watched the man and tender converse with one another. She was warm, friendly, and he wondered briefly if she’d ever bore children. Someone with such an ease into maternal nature would be able to take the task on. Motherhood was no small thing though, and he could quickly list the many reasons why not to engage in such a heavy responsibility. There they went again, his thoughts, his analytics as if others were things and not people. He’d overcome this detached way of viewing others greatly since falling, but while in his natural form he doubted it would ever be gone completely. Going into his camouflage always made it easier: empathy and vulnerability were bound in humanity like an organic tapestry.

His thumb slowly brushed up and down the side of his own glass, considering going into that form now, of a complete human male, it wouldn’t make much of a difference to anyone here as the changes would only be felt within himself. A simple rearranging on the stool would be all that others would notice, but in a place like this, a place so personal to himself, he wasn’t sure if he could handle the full vulnerability that being human had to offer. Though, despite himself he couldn’t deny the appeal of the other man’s face, and knowing there would be plenty more like him here, women too, there was only so much he could do while like this if certain opportunities presented themselves.

“I’m wondering,” The man’s voice brought him back around from his own thoughts, and his eyes lifted and focused on him through the cloth from where they’d drifted away. He smiled easily, though it was small, when he spoke of his voice and pulling back the hood. Times like this were when he was quite thankful to have landed on a world where people varied in appearance as much as they did. He chuckled and shook his head gently before drinking down the rest of his glass and setting it on the bar top.

“No, no scars or anything like that.” There wasn’t much in Revaliir that could leave a lingering mark on his skin. He healed too rapidly, assuring that his life here would be a very…extremely, painfully, long one. Still, there was something to be said about filling one’s time with as much as one could, and he looked back over at him. Their interaction had been brief, but he didn’t seem unkind, and anyways he was in a more vulnerable state than anyone else here. Should he need to defend himself against this stranger, it wouldn’t be too difficult, he hoped.

The smile faltered, his head turning with his eyes to survey the tavern. Everyone was occupied, be it with food and drink, or in hearty conversation. Distractions were good, even if people didn’t keep their attention on you, having glowing hair and eyes usually drew eyes no matter how brief. That was what he hated the most. In his early years here, it had been for protection, now it was…something different. Even so, he looked back to him, and lifted his hand up to his hood.

As he pulled it back, letting it hang from his neck and shoulders, his fingers lightly tussled through his softly glowing white hair. The skin of his face was just as smooth and pale as his hands, and while it seemed to glow like his hair and eyes, it was about the only part of him that did not emit light. His eyes blinked, their ice blue shining through the shadows cast by the dim lighting of the tavern, and he adjusted his sight as he was no longer conversing through a hood. If anyone looked, he tried not to notice, and continued speaking as if nothing had changed,

“Well then, I’ve given you my face, will you give me your name?” The curve of his lips upturned into a playful, almost challenging smirk as he tapped two fingers on the bar for another drink. All the while his eyes never moved from the man, able to see him more crisply than he’d been able to through the threads.

Nikolai had difficulties stifling a chuckle when scars were dismissed as the reason for hiding his face. There was hesitation at first, as if the stranger was gathering courage, steeling his resolve. The purpose for such mental preparation over a simple action of revealing one's face did not escape Nikolai. After all, he had changed his appearance so often, and sharing such information was a rarity. Yet, at the same time, Nikolai wondered if having such an angelic voice would hinder the stranger's ability to remain anonymous, as anyone would remember such a detail.

If his jaw was not attached to his face, it would surely hit the floor as he beheld the glory of the beauty before him. In short, the man was utter perfection, down to he gorgeous eyes shining, banishing shadow in his gaze. The stranger looked as if a god had took clay, molded a statue of perfection, filled it with the blood and flesh, breathing life into him. "Gorgeous." Nikolai breathed his admiration.

Slowly, his thoughts stirred, trying to wrap around the question presented to him. With a smile, Nikolai stood, slid into the stool next to the stranger and lowered his voice. "I shall be honest with you. For reasons best left alone, while I would love to share it with you, I have forgotten my true name. So, I have adopted the name Nikolai Malthis." Propping his elbow on the bar, his hand in a fist, Nikolai rested his head upon the fist. That smile had never wavered.

"I was serious when I said gorgeous. Do I get a name by which to call you, or shall I use Angel?" His tone was light, and his eyes danced with growing hunger as he took a sip of his ale.

He smiled, moving his eyes away from him when his drink was brought. While he was glad that his face never brought negativity, it was the focus on his beauty that brought a trill to his heart and a dip to his stomach. There were many kind people in this world that he’d fallen to, but there were also those that were cruel. Those that saw a pretty face and thought of less than kind things to do or say with said face. His eyes softened as he took a swallow of his liquor, this other man did not seem like one of those people…Playful and flirtatious yes, but not cruel.

He looked back at him, feeling his resolve return and likewise his smile came easier, though still outlined in nervous flattery. His lips parted, eyebrows raising curiously when he came closer, sat next to him, and he bent his head towards him as he listened. The conversation felt private, even if the other was gifted with keeping the mood a comfortable one. He nodded slowly in understanding, his eyes brightening when he trusted him with his chosen name: Nikolai. He liked it, liked the way it trailed around his thoughts, and his lips moved silently as if testing out the feel of those syllables.

Still, he wondered what had happened to him to have him forget his own name. What kind of life had he led? What had brought him here? In a way he felt kinship to someone like him. Even though Najima knew where his home was, where he had come from, his origins, he could not reach it. There were so many things he wanted to learn, questions he wanted to ask, but he kept them all inside so that he wouldn’t barrage him and threaten scaring him away. As lovely as Nikolai’s face was to look at, as much as he enjoyed having such a drawing smile turned his way, what pulled him in his direction was all to do with the welcoming personality he’d yet to waver in.

He laughed gently, the sound fluttering like soft music around them as his fingers slowly brushed along the edge of his glass. Angel. People had called him that before, and it amused him when he thought about the similarities: both from the heavens, both often times falling to the ground -though the outcome was less pleasant for a fallen angel-, their otherworldly nature and ignorance to goings on of life here. But no, he was no angel, “I’m called Najima.” His name was one of the few words left that he spoke with an accent since it was from his own people and not part of the common tongue.

He finished off his liquor, relishing in how it burned down his throat, and rested one arm on the countertop; his fingertips mere inches from the other man’s elbow. His body was turned towards him in his seat, giving him his full attention. “Nikolai…” he said in a drawn-out tone, testing the feel of the name on his tongue, it was just as enjoyable as it had been to his lips. “I like it.” He smiled, “Why choose that name when you could have any that you wanted?”

The name was revealed, and awe spread across chest. Najima was like music in the wind upon leaving the tongue, rolling off easily to perfection. Angel sounded a bit clipped in comparison. Smokey emerald orbs slid to the fingers so close to his own skin. Was that hand as warm, the skin as smooth as was suddenly imagined? With the radiance pouring off the angelic man, surely it was. Nikoali's heart picked up pace as imaginations ran away with him, the desire to feel assumed warmth surround him in loving embrace. As his name was drawn out, the elf returned his gaze upon that gorgeous face.

"To be completely honest? It was the first best thing that came to mind after looking in the mirror." Nevermind the fact that it was about half an hour ago that it was chosen. Before this, he was assuming the name Lavender as a sweet aspiring herbologist near Jasumin Lake. Forget the fact that he was a face-changer. His hand was repositioned so that their fingertips mingled. It was difficult to keep his breathing under control, as to not betray his thoughts. With the way Najima left his hand there, turned his body to him, surely he was interested, yes? That smooth, pale skin, those icy eyes… Nikolai just wanted to run his hands through that silky soft hair, feel the smoothness of his skin, and taste the perfection of his lips. 'Screw hiding my thoughts.'

Without so much as even the lightest blush, the other hand lifted to brush against Najima's cheek before cupping over his ear and guiding him in for a kiss. It had been so long since he had been shy, that he was rather bold when it came to letting others know of his desires. At first, the scared thought of overstepping personal boundaries arose when the angelic man didn't react, only to be dashed away by such a tender returned kiss. Where the hell was this man ages ago? How can someone be so beautiful, so sweet and tender, that he was sweeping Nikolai off his feet by his soul? When the kiss ended, the two stared at each other for a moment.

It was cute to see Najima blushing. "I'm not sorry," and the elf was up, headed back toward his room. Each step felt like a step towards destiny, anticipations began to run high. Once, he looked behind and gave a jerk of his head to Najima, a 'come hither' motion with a flirtatious smile. Sure enough, the angel's lips were just as sweet as he imagined, and now… he hungered for more.

His eyes fluttered quickly and widened when he felt Nikolai’s lips against his. At first he froze, unsure of what was going to happen, but soon his lips softly pressed back to his. The starts of a blush rose up into his cheeks, which in itself was a feat. Casual sexual encounters weren’t foreign to him, but he wasn’t used to someone being so bold as to display the starts of one in a tavern filled with people. That fact alone was exhilarating in its own right.

Their fingers were interwoven and he lightly gripped them for fear that he’d pull away, and when Nikolai pulled away his own head began to tip as if to follow his lips. He stopped himself just before he could, and stared back at him in silence. True silence. The goings on of the tavern were still abuzz, but his ears were deaf to them at the moment. That urge was building, and likewise his eyes were beginning to shift: less soft and playful, more serious and hungry.

Dangerous. He pulled his hand back from his as Nikolai stood, and he watched after him, a small smile quirking the corner of his lips. I’m not sorry, that’s what he had said. That kind of brazenness was drawing, and he turned his glass upside down to indicate he was finished when Nikolai nodded at him to follow. His gold was left next to his glass, and he drew his hood back up as he moved from the bar to follow.

That look in his eyes told Nikolai everything he needed to know. The fae smirked as the angelic man stood to follow. He led the way up the stairs, down the hall, and through… Was it this one? Fairly sure he had picked the correct door, it was pushed open to reveal the room he had been in previously. Blankets on the bed were tousled, obviously heaped with more than what would normally be on a bed. It made sense, since the fae was found half frozen. This was their efforts in warming him up, thawing him as he rested.

If Najima was not behind him, his footsteps falling lightly on the floor, Nikolai would have wondered if it was normal for people to wake up with near naked bodies next to them, sharing body heat. The blanket was discarded, tossed off to the side as the snowy haired elf turned toward his somewhat modest, gorgeous guest. Mere inches between him and Najima, one hand reached up to remove the hood.

The other hand closed the door, tracing a well practiced symbol on it of privacy and protection. ”I’m cold, Najima.” He leaned in, hands now gently resting on those angelic hips as his lips brushed against Najima’s ear. ”Do you know how you make my blood warm with your sexy perfection?” Nikolai's voice had dropped to a husky whisper. There was so much to learn about this angel, and what kind of lover he was. The kiss downstairs promised sweet and tender, but first impressions could be deceiving. In one fluid motion, Najima was not only pressed against the wall, but Nikolai pressed himself against him. Holding back, he decided to start with the continuation of that sweet, tender, inviting kiss from earlier.