"In Harga death is a blessing cloaked from society. A secret soon seen by those who were once blinded by the false hope of love, life, and peace. Hope doesn't exist anymore. Like the king... We will all soon go mad under his rule. His thirst for pow...
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He was less than confidant that he would be caught by Kalïgar's prized toy who wanted to have him so badly. He wanted to bed him and he had to hide from him for the sake of survival. For the sake of not doing it with a sadistic elf whose main purpose was to bed and keep bedding until he either grows board of it or gets exhausted. Both are highly unlikely things. For his attempt at avoiding Xáłion would soon come to a screeching halt if he wasn't careful enough. Daera was determined to keep his king happy and be like a trusted friend to him. Keep up appearances so he wouldn't expect a single thing from him when something went missing. The only problem was, was his elven brother from his adopted family. Since he figured out that he was not only an 'ex' thief from the thieves guided stationed in his home lands. But also the boy who once dated his son, he had become less trusting than Kalïgar had. What little suspicion he had of him grew beyond his hight.
He had made what he could out of what they had in the kitchens. A soup, made from goat, horse, and whatever spices he could find. Though the taste wasn't great it was edible enough for him to eat it. Hopefully good enough for anyone to eat it let alone himself. A feeling that made him give off a face of disgust yet good enough to eat. Swallow without the slightest gag. For he wasn't the greatest of cooks, he was good enough to make it worth a bite if someone was starving. He hoped whoever was waiting in the hall of kings for him wasn't all that hungry for anything. Yet as he placed the bowl on the tray to bring to the mystery guest his eyes met the gaze of Xáłion. Hungry. He thought it just a vision, when he blinked no one was there but to be replaced by Xáłion's lover Łágîzin whose gaze had a slight smirk compared to the vision. His arms crossed as he stared at him.
"What is it Łágîzin? I'm busy." He growled. Placing a tankard of ale on the side with a wooden spoon upon a smooth cloth. Taking the side as he tried to walk through the doors only to be blocked off by Łágîzin who refused to allow him through the doorway.
"Where are you going with that Daera?" He asked. Holding his arm out to keep him from getting through.
Daera gave him a glare." This is for our guest up in the hall of-"
"Kings?" His interruption was for a reason. For after asking his question he raised an eyebrow. His smile grew a few inches wider before he stepped aside." I warn you cup barer. What you will find in there may not be for your eyes.." He said as his head followed Daera. Confused and scared he wasn't sure if he should. But he was already almost there the more he kept moving. It was a chance where he could always turn around and eat the soup saying that he wasn't hungry. But that would be rude and Kalïgar would not believe him.
"Should I?" He asked himself. He had asked himself the same question many times in the past and now. But his hand was already on the door knob. He paused. Gently placing the food on the floor before pressing his ear against the door to listen for noises. There was something. Fearful gasps and moans broke through the silence with a few extra noises to add onto it. Light but dark toned chuckles. Sounds of what seemed to be pleasure all but the one who was in there going through it. Yet the different voices were speaking in a language he wasn't familiar with. The language of elvish.
