Blueprint

8: Ticking

Amari hated silence.

It wasn't a secret - not even close - and each guard that was stationed outside his room always made it a point to mention either the pretty sound of his music boxes or would note how strange it was for a grown man to be so hung up on 'toys'. But they reminded him of his home, and all silence gave him was night terrors, so he tended to take a liking to music boxes.

Even so, now, he could stand the silence.

He'd allowed his music boxes to go quiet, and instead, listened to the shallow, scared breaths from just beneath him. He felt for the man; even though Synelis had caused him nothing but problems, he knew the horror of being threatened with death. The king frequently made it known that Amari would not be allowed to remain, should his use run dry, and the simple thought of being beheaded - or worse - made his blood run cold.

Synelis didn't have the comfort of knowing that there was at least one way to keep himself alive. Amari, even with the little knowledge on the legal system he had, knew that Synelis would be killed for his crimes. He'd done so much in such a short time.

"Why'd you do it?" Amari asked suddenly, his voice hardly a whisper — though the walls were thick, the doors were not, and sound could easily carry through them. "Why'd you want the blueprints?"

The ragged breathing stopped, if only for a moment, before Amari heard a deep sigh.

"Money. Fame. Notoriety. I don't know."

"They wouldn't sell for much," Amari hummed, "so you must've done it for the notoriety."

And Amari understood that to an extent. Though he himself always preferred a quieter life out of the public eye, his brother had a certain flair for the dramatic and a love of attention that Amari witnessed no small amount of times. Maybe Synelis shared a similar flair.

"No," the man sighed, "they'd sell for quite a bit. It's almost like an urban legend. In fact, Mr. Alantar, I've seen some poorly drawn up schematics circling about a few black markets that claim to be yours. If people care enough to try to make replicas, and they haven't even seen it, well, then it must be pretty important."

"Black markets," Amari echoed, almost startled by the notion. He'd never seen an underground market - he was always too scared of them - and any mention of them tended to put him on edge. He was always told terrible things went on there. Brutal fights, slavery, organ harvesting —

"Oh, don't wet your bed," Synelis sniped, almost too loudly, as he dragged himself out from under the frame. "They're perfectly safe. People only sell stolen items and narcotics, inventor Alantar."

"I told you to call me Amari." He replied as Synelis stood fully.

The high elf was almost intimidating. He had a narrow gaze and high cheekbones, but his stature was lean. Certainly, he must've had some amount of muscle, considering how easily he dragged Amari around, but he didn't look like he did. The most intimidating part about him to most Verbornians would be his race, and Amari wasn't particularly inclined to fear high elves.

"Sorry, Amari," he clucked, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

"Someone might hear us," Amari realized, and though it had been a thought floating about the back of his mind for some time, it only became such a threat when he saw Synelis.

"You're the one who started talking to me," He replied, gliding across the room to pick up the first music box again. He wound it with his gloved fingers, then set it carefully back on the desk.

Amari frowned, sitting up and bringing his knees to his chest. He knew Synelis' aloofness was only a mask to hide his fear, but that mask was terribly convincing, and it made Amari feel... well, it made him feel small. Inconsequential. It made him feel like he was talking to a version of the king with a slightly longer fuse.

Without so much as asking first, Synelis settled himself across the foot of Amari's bed.

"What? It's awfully uncomfortable on the floor," Synelis reasoned after Amari gave him a look, and Amari supposed that wasn't a bad point, but he still had mixed feeling about having a criminal in his room — let alone a criminal in his bed. "And you really should change that shirt. At least get it cleaned. Oh! Maybe you could get another wood elf to clear out the blood. You guys can do that sort of magic, right?"

"We're not friends," Amari huffed, leading Synelis to roll his eyes. "...but, yes. Some wood elves practice Sanguineous magic. I am not one of them."

"So you do the tree magic, then?"

Amari didn't know why he was indulging Synelis' questions. "No. I can't do any magic."

Synelis was quiet for a moment. "So you're basically a glorified human, then?"

Amari didn't know why the sentiment stung. There wasn't anything wrong with humans, except maybe their tendency towards violence, and something about the way Synelis said it turned it into an insult.

"I guess so." Amari replied, his cheeks heating up. He was glad it was dark.

"Huh," Synelis hummed, "I guess that wouldn't be so bad. I dont know how I'd get on in my line of work without magic," a little flicker of fire sprouted from his palm before quickly dying, leading Amari to shove himself back, "but I suppose there's a million ways nonmagical folk can get a job."

"I'm not — I'm not nonmagical," Amari grumbled, holding his knees tight to his chest, "I just never learned, that's all."

Synelis clucked his tongue. "Fair enough."

Amari sighed slowly, running a hand through his hair. Bits of soot trailed onto his fingers, still lingering from a laboratory explosion days ago. No matter how many times he washed his hair, it seemed to linger.

There was one window in Amari's room. It was tiny and shaped like half a circle - almost like the rising sun - and every morning, the light carefully crept through it just so it illuminated all but his bed. That was probably his favorite part. But, now, he wished he had more windows, so he could just tell Synelis to escape through one in the night. Instead, his own morality would force him to put up with some snarky half elf for lord only knows how long before he could sneak him out.

"You should get back under the bed before someone catches you."

Synelis snorted, sitting up and promptly sliding back onto the floor. Amari slid under his own covers - not before unbuttoning and removing his shirt - and snugly bunched the top of the blankets under his chin. He liked how it felt like a hug.

Amari, all tucked in to his bed, realized how uncomfortable the hard wood floor would be to sleep on, and almost felt bad for how snug his own lavish bedding was. Of course, there was no way in a million years that he would invite a stranger - a stranger that had held him hostage earlier, no less - into his bed, but he would share what small amount of comfort he could.

He dropped a pillow over the side of the bed, watching Synelis snatch it and drag it through the bed skirt like a hungry animal. He considered giving him a blanket too, but by the time he'd decided he would, Synelis' uneven breathing had calmed so much that Amari assumed he must've been asleep.

Amari held some of his bunched covers, squeezing them tight as he finally allowed his mind to settle. The music box continued to pluck out a slow and calm song, and through the quiet ticking, Amari found himself lulled quickly to sleep.