“Astrid makes me feel ancient.” Cyran agreed, only somewhat joking. It was true that the idea of a twelve year old with barely a decade of life under their belt galavanting around the country without adult supervision made his hackles raise - the same with Fish. But the two of them were both so talented, their skills at odds with their maturing and developing minds, that it did not even seem to register with them why he often found their choices to adventure so heartbreaking.

It did not surprise him, though, to learn that Zarius had also lived the sheltered life in his youth. A different flavor than Cyran’s own, perhaps - the difference between parents who sought control and ones who sought safety - but the end sentiment was the same. It certainly put into context Zarius’s own desires to establish his own identity separate from his family; his development of the Rookery, and his development of his own network.

“I’m glad to hear your parents did the best that they could. It’s certainly a tightrope act.” He replied, a small smile growing on his face. Even in this line of business, there were certain… benchmarkers one could seek out to ascertain the character of a person. Care for their children when they could easily turn those prodigies into tools or pawns was one of them. Given what he’d heard from Zarius, and meeting his mother, Cyran felt he had a fairly good idea of how they operated.

… Though he imagined Zarius was quite the hellion when it came to those strict rules.

“Oh. My apologies. I feel a bit silly now.” It was obvious he was more accustomed to such accusations… not being spoken in jest. But that was neither here nor there. He was aware Zarius’s particular brand of affection came from teasing - his unfamiliarity with the lighthearted banter could also be attributed to the fact that he’d been raised an only child. Banter with Zarius, Eameia, and Caedes was the closest he’d come to knowing what it felt like to have a sibling.

He found he liked it.

Even if he was the subject of said teasing more often than not.

Which was precisely why he took no offense to Zarius’s threats of violence if word about his unexpected journey as a Jackal ever made it out of this room. “It’s my turn to jest.” He replied. “It stays a secret… from me, at least. I’m sure you’ll be hearing about it from your mother soon enough, but don’t blame me if Eameia catches wind of what happened.” He laughed. “I’m not certain how happy Del would be with me if I came home with more injuries than I already bear.”

He cleared his throat.

“Regardless, thank you for your support. It was a strange experience, but being turned into a bat was a vulnerable time I’d rather not repeat. It was much more tolerable and less fear inducing together.”

Zarius chuckles. It must be so surreal for the long-lived elf to see literal children running around accomplishing so much in such a short amount of time. He can somewhat sympathize. Fish and Astrid are both children who are far more independent than he or any of his siblings ever were at their ages. It can't be easy for them to have lived with such unfortunate circumstances that would force them to be self-sufficient in their youth. 

He does feel for Cyran. The more he learns about the man the more he's pretty sure his upbringing was not the best. One doesn't go from silver spoons to being an assassin without something being seriously wrong.

It's a shame, though it's good that Cyran has not paid that treatment forward. Instead, he goes out of his way to be the best he can with the hand he's been dealt. It's no doubt been a hard road, and he's made plenty of sacrifices along the way. Most evidently being one of his eyes. But considering all the people who surround and defend him now, maybe it's worth it. Maybe one day he'll be able to shake the shackles of the past off for good. 

In a way, he admires Cyran for having such strength and courage. To throw away a life he was raised for in favor of hardship and struggle. It's not something everyone can do. Though he'd argue that such a thing shouldn't be needed in the first place. All he can think is how lucky he is that his familial situation does not require him to make such hard choices. 

The fellblood lets out an exasperated sigh. "You are not wrong. My mother and sister will no doubt be very vocal about the whole situation."

He was not looking forward to that explanation. Especially since it meant explaining to his father that Cyran is not a threat to them even if he does know of the familial home now. The teasing from his mother and sister was inevitable, and ultimately, just annoying. But he hates giving his father even more things to worry about then he already has, especially when it comes to the safety of their family. 

"Considering our missions tend to go sideways in strange ways, I do not think you owe me any thanks. With any luck, next time I call on your services it will be a simple situation." 

As his gaze drifts to the door then back to Cyran again, a shit-eating grin spreads across his face. 

"And speaking of your lady love, best not to keep her waiting."

Cyran knew little about Zarius’s mother, but he’d spent considerably more time with Eameia over the past year. Living and even working at the Rookery had left him with an acute understanding of the way she liked to tease people. It didn’t bother him all that much - perhaps it left him a little flustered, as Zarius did when Cyran was the subject of his robbing - but he could imagine that when the two turned on one another, the results would be considerably more explosive.

It wasn’t a bad thing, mind. In their own way, they were expressing their care for one another, in a way they knew how. His heart felt for Zarius hearing that he had a more sheltered upbringing; he was familiar with the way it shaped one’s experiences. Even knowing that Zarius’s parents loved them, it likely lent to his more reserved and polite nature, and his predilection for responding to affection with snark.

All in all - both Zarius and Eameia were prone to teasing and taking shots at one another, and this incident was exactly the ammunition that would spark an all-out sibling rivalry.

The assassin hummed, thoughtful. “Your mother might have, ah, peered into my memories when she realized something was amiss. So she should have a mostly complete picture of what happened.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s probably a lot to ask, and I can’t control what she may tell you, or what you may ask, in turn. But… if anything were to come up, I would greatly appreciate your privacy, as well.”

He wasn’t certain what Madam Zewala might do with the information she’d learned; perhaps the past of an assassin who worked with her son was insignificant to her. But the idea of someone out there having the complete and full picture of his life, and with all the power to use it if she so desired - it unnerved him, somewhat. He trusted Zarius. He didn’t have a full and complete picture of the young man’s parents to say the same just yet.

Zarius’s hope that their next venture might be simpler, at least, elicited a small laugh from Cyran. “I gave up hope that we might find a simple mission the day the sultan showed up at Madam Mohurk’s charity event.” He replied. “At this point all I can do is hope that whatever happens is something I can adapt to.” Being turned into an animal was… harrowing. It was lucky that they’d found Zarius’s acquaintance and her drake. He worried that next time, they’d meet something they couldn’t bounce back from.

He worried that next time, the solution wouldn’t be so simple.

The thoughtful, almost melancholic air dissipated as Zarius’s grin took a turn for the impish at the mention of Del. Cyran’s face flushed, still very much… embarrassingly smitten. Despite his age, there were some matters that Cyran simply wasn’t experienced with. Love, romance, being one of them. It was one of the few things that wrecked his normally calm and passive demeanor, and one of the few things that left him so easily flustered. From the expression on his face, you’d think Zarius had walked in on him and Del kissing rather than merely teasing Cyran for being so smitten.

“Right… of course. I’m assuming the orphanage is going to need my help cleaning up the mess as well, after. You know. We wrecked the sitting room.” He pulled himself to his feet, patting his knees as he stood. “I am glad you are feeling better. Should you need me for anything else, you know where to find me, as always.” His gaze softened; his smile warm as he nodded his head in farewell. “Until next time.”

He took great care to conceal himself in the shadows as he left Zarius’s safehouse to ensure no one followed him, taking to the dark as the evening drew to a close around him.

Knowing that his mother was now in possession of more information about Cyran than Zarius had himself made things a bit more complicated for him. It's beyond tempting to go and ask for that information for himself, and normally he wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of something like that. But Cyran is a unique case. He's a friend. An actual friend. And Zarius wants to respect his privacy as his friend. It's an odd conundrum, one he's not really been in before. 

"I will not pry, and I will speak with my mother about keeping that information just between you and her." 

He has no interest in jeopardizing his partnership with Cyran. The hunter has more than proved his usefulness time and time again. Besides, he doesn't feel threatened by the man in any capacity. There was no need to dig up his past unless the elf gave him a reason to. So far, he hasn't.

The fellblood scoffs at Cyran's response. The elf just had to bring up that awkward social event. 

"Do not remind me. We are lucky no one followed us home from that event." 

Gods know how they managed to navigate that whole situation with the Sultan. He can only assume that the man let them off easy just because they were invited guests of Madam Mohurk and he more than knows of her financial capital and investments into Zeinav City's economy. She may not be royalty, but she commands more than enough respect to stand on the same stage as the Sultan himself in the public eye. 

Had they not had her favor, no doubt the Sultan would have called the guards then and there to arrest the fellblood and interrogate the elf. Or worse yet, he might have enlisted the aid of the Stablemen to follow them home in hopes of undermining their entire network and operation. It wasn't unfathomable to imagine just how big of a disaster they managed to narrowly avoid. 

Speaking of disasters, Cyran brings up the chaos they created back at the orphanage while transformed. 

"My apologies, if anything was damaged do let me know the cost for repairs. Even if you have Miss Delaela fix things, she should be paid for her skills and time." 

He makes a mental note to have Eameia funnel a little bit more funds towards the orphanage for the next few months. There likely wasn't much of a need for that given how much they already were subtly feeding into Cyran's own finances, but now that Zarius had personally seen the inside of the orphanage and how many kids Cyran had taken in, he couldn't help but feel that Cyran should treat himself to at least some noise protection. A little extra spending money couldn't hurt, and maybe Miss Delaela could convince the man to splurge a little on himself for once.

As Cyran stands, he too rises to his feet. He nods in return. 

"Stay safe."

The fellblood is left alone in the quiet safe house upon the elf's departure, and for a moment he just stands there lost in thought over everything that had transpired and the conversations that have come and gone. He half expects Ebony to appear out of nowhere to create abrupt chaos, or for Snow or Eirynor to return from their patrols for the day, or maybe for Caedes to manifest out of the shadows and say something snarky and stupid.

But none of that happens. 

When did silence start feeling so lonesome, he wonders.