#there is a draft of this in which yuri is far meaner but i scrapped it he can be a bitch another time

[aubins]

his gaze lingers. a slight hum parts the mockingbird's lips, as sweet a tune as any for all that they end up saying. “perhaps it is.” an idle agreement? a taunt to provoke? with the shutters now fallen over lilac eyes, it is difficult to place.

arval knows, they say. yes, everyone thinks they know something, don't they? about yuri—who they are, what they should do. everyone thinks they know something that he doesn't, or knows better than he does. but he is not some mindless sheep, like the flock that aelfric tends. no, he is wolf that stands vigilant by the shepherd's side, to whom he whispers all his secrets.

(the wolf still chained by his master. but not for long. not ever again, if he has anything to say about it—and he does.)

“here's what i know, then.” with a sharp click of his heel, the mockingbird turns to face them, voice empty of mirth. “it can happen.” a flash of silver, the hilt of a dagger snapped to the palm of his hand as his head tilts. the blade rises to touch its point at his own throat, and yuri smiles. “whenever, wherever, however i want it. no matter what you say on the matter.”

after all, they haven't forgotten, have they? the first time they met, yuri would have happily drawn his blade against their throat. if he hadn't been so slow with his sword. if they hadn't been so quick with their spell.

the whys and whens of murder are of no concern to him—death is his trade just as much as secrets and bribes. people do not merely seek the savage mockingbird only for the secrets he sings, but for the pointed blades of his wings too. to think to the contrary...it's almost laughable.

“and—” a jerk of his chin toward them, brow raised. the dagger is smoothly returned to its sheathe. “—have you seen yourself in a mirror? i'm good at what i do, but i'm not a magician. you're still pale as a ghost. i need time to fix that or the duke won't look twice at you.”

an exhale punctuates the end of it, accompanied by the shake of his head. yuri is doing too much, perhaps. it doesn't matter—he won't swallow the words. not for anyone. not for arval.

“not sure why you're asking me. that's why you're here, isn't it?” he drawls at their next question, arms crossing. fingers tap an idle rhythm against his hip. “don't leave us in suspense now. do go on.”

＊ I SHOULD LIKE TO BE SOMEONE ELSE .

　 　❛　mission board: recovery, family heirloom — yuri & arval