A Lesson in Aristocracy

VI - Lunch

Arden yawned, tapping his foot quietly on the floor as he brushed sand off of his Lozenfi. He was worn out - being worn out so early in the day seemed to be a common theme lately. He arched his brows when Hyarith began to move, a small scowl crossing his face.

"Finally up, sleepyhead?" He asked, tapping the Lozenfi on the wing.

Hyarith's arms trembled as he pushed himself up, the beast taking a moment and hovering their hand over what Arden assumed to be a wound on his front side. He sighed, leaning back against the wall before Hyarith turned to stare at him. Arden gulped at the gaze - his eyes seemed almost unnatural, then. Despite their plain green color, they were sharp and piercing, and if looks could kill, Arden would be long dead.

Hyarith shot up with inhuman speed, Arden yelping when the Lozenfi's hands clamped around his neck. He brought his own hands up by instinct, gripping the ones currently keeping him from breathing. He was dragged upwards, still pressed against the wall all the while choking on what little breath he still had.

"Where is he?" Hyarith hissed, Arden weakly kicking his legs. He gulped down air at the slight loosening of Hyarith's grip, staring at the Lozenfi. He was afraid. He was afraid and he knew it. He was afraid and Hyarith knew it.

"W-who? Who?!" Arden asked, panic evident in his tone as well as every other part of him.

Hyarith growled, his grip tightening again.

"You're worthless," he grumbled, grip loosening just as Quetsan jogged around the corner. Arden dropped to the ground, rubbing his neck and gasping. Quetsan looked worried, taking the keys Arden had given him and unlocking the door.

"Arden?" He asked, kneeling by the Sielfi and helping him stand.

"I'm good! I'm... good," he rasped, rubbing his neck gently.

"How'd you fall?" Quetsan asked with evident suspicion, glancing at the Lozenfi as his tail flicked behind him.

"Just tripped."

Quetsan eyed the red marks on Arden's neck, then the Lozenfi. Hyarith gave him a small growl in return.

"I don't think you did."

Arden became visibly upset at that, pushing Quetsan's hand off of him. He snatched the bandages, walking towards Hyarith.

"Don't touch me," he hissed, Arden considering listening before shaking his head and beginning to wrap bandages around Hyarith's back.

The Lozenfi turned, giving Arden a look of warning as he tore off the end of a strip of bandages. The gash across his back was already beginning to show through the bandages, blooms of red sprouting across the fabric.

"Back off of him. He's upset." Quetsan advised, raising a hand to rub his chin.

"Is that how you got to be the top of your class? Letting Lozenfi boss you around and "backing off when they're upset?" Tch. Typical, nowadays." Arden spat, his usually concealed pointed teeth baring at Quetsan.

The Seralfi looked taken aback, his shocked look quickly turning into one of disdain.

"There's no need to be like that."

"Is that so? If you had half the problems, half the strife I've had, you'd think twice before speaking to me so rudely."

"And how's that? You clearly haven't learned to talk even a grain as politely as I have, despite your supposed "strife"."

"How dare-"

"Shut. Up."

Both the handler's jaws snapped shut, turning to look at the very obviously agitated Lozenfi. He'd stood then, glaring down Arden before turning his gaze to Quetsan. Both stood with bated breath, waiting like dogs for his next word - but he was silent. He only huffed before walking over to the pile of hay he'd been allotted, sitting down and examining the wounds on his front again. Arden's eyes trailed down to that same cut he'd seen last night, shivering at the red and brown splotches trailing down from and around the Lozenfi's navel.