Gryphons
Chapter Two

Rating:R
Warnings: Angst, general self-abuse.
Summary: Draephus contemplates his life, and the strange turns it has take
Notes: The profane words that the Sferkkaans use are all of an earthly origin, though out-of-date and from various countries. ‘Šukat’ is Czech, and basically means ‘fuck’. It replaces a more obscure word, ‘sklook’, which means pretty much the same thing, but I never really cared for. I only used it because my ex-girlfriend liked it. But I dumped her. ‘Conni’ basically means car. Shane and I angsted for hours over what to name things. The only “alien” word we came up with that I truly liked was ‘clart-blossom’, which means ‘fart’. ‘Beaker’ was a term my friend Lynn used, and I basically put it in because it made me laugh. One stupid person was a Beaker. More than one Beaker was a Unit, which averaged out to so many Beakers per square inch. If you found yourself in a Unit of Beakers then you should flee immediately.

What can I say; this is what happens when you don’t eat your vegetables and spend your teenage years sitting in a closet under a black-light, writing sci-fi while listening to Pink Floyd

Not so much as a rock myth, more of a mythic rock happening is alluded to here. The Beatles on Ed Sullivan. That is, if Ringo Star had grown up in the jungle, raising narcotic plants and garroting people.

Special thanks to Vesta, who helped out with some of the scenes when I was sick.

Draephus CZimcocious awoke with a bad taste in his mouth; a combination of cigarettes, mushroom distillation, and a tooth he had been neglecting to have fixed. He had a dull headache, and the stitches above his eye were beginning to itch. The flesh around it felt a little warm, and he could feel dried blood crusted around the wound. His eyes were sore; in fact his whole upper face hurt, not to mention his ribs and neck. As he reached for a cigarette, he heard the telicom downstairs begin to ring. Šukat it, he wasn’t running to get it. He lit a cigarette and ignored the telicom, feeling mild relief when it fell silent once more. It was probably Raski anyway, calling to make certain he was alive. Draephus felt a pang of guilt about not answering the ‘com, but mentally he was not up to dealing with anyone, or anything. Outside his window the rain fell, tapping against the warped antique glass. He lay listening to it, his eyes slipping shut once again. They seemed too heavy to stay open. His neck screamed in protest as he slowly rolled onto his back, and he decided he had probably hurt himself more badly than he had thought. He still had to wonder if he had meant to drive his conni into that stone pillar or not. He had bled all over himself, but, apart from some stitches and the pain in his bones, he had assumed he was fine.

He had been in the Lower Cylinder when he had done it, a place not unfamiliar to him. He had left the shattered conni where it was, slobbering green coolant onto the filthy concrete floor. The level was dark and quiet, but Draephus knew there were things lurking in the shadows, things that watched him hungrily with cold eyes. Drunk and injured, he seemed an easy target, and all that saved him was the memories of the predators lurking in the gloom. They knew him. They had seen him before. They knew he was no easy kill, even in his current state. The predators slunk off, looking for softer meat, and Draephus found himself someone who claimed to be a doctor. Draephus supposed he could have been, he certainly had enough drugs in his apartment. He tried to recall how he had ended up in the man's home, or even his name, but couldn't. Various parts of the evening were wrapped in a fog. He knew he hadn't got the cut on his lip in the accident, but couldn't recall how he had got it. Probably from whomever he had broken his knuckles on.

He stubbed out the half-finished cigarette when a coughing fit gripped him, making him squirm in pain. He must have cracked a rib. By the time he finished coughing he was limp with pain. He would have groaned, but he couldn't seem to make any sound. His throat was raw and dry from smoke. At the foot of his bed, two slender, red-skinned creatures raised their heads and watched him with concern in their vibrant green eyes, making small worried noises in their throats.

"I'm all right," he said to them, and the creatures lowered their heads once more. They did not look convinced by his words, and they continued to watch him, trilling softly to one another.

Eventually Draephus rolled gingerly out of bed, rising slowly on shaky legs. He had slept in his clothes, which were blood-spattered and smelled of three days' constant use. The stubble on his face was also three days old, too long for Draephus' liking, but he was pretty sure he wasn't going to bother with it for at least another day or two. He did not want to risk tearing open his numerous small wounds.

He made it halfway across the room before he had to rest, seating himself gingerly in the elegant antique chair set next to the marble-fronted fireplace. At the time he had acquired the place, living in a castle had seemed like a great idea. It had been a ruined castle, with no heat, no lights, hand-pumped water, and power in only a few select areas. Now it was a perfectly restored castle, with no heat, no lights, hand-pumped water, and power in only a few select areas. Sometimes Draephus thought the only thing he liked anymore was his castle. At this moment, however, with no fire in the hearth and no strength to make one, he thought a castle was a pretty stupid place to live. He mused about finding another place. Perhaps a nice old people's home. Sure, he'd start his own. The Draephus CZimcocious Home for Down-and-Out Ra Musicians and Detox Centre.

Draephus sat in the chair, feeling sore and old. The expensive woven rug beneath his chair did little to keep the cool of the red stone floor from his feet. He stunk, he needed a bath. He'd have to build a fire and pump the water, a task that usually did not bother him. He had loved the castle from the first time he had seen it, and keeping it as close to authentic as possible had always been of utmost importance. But clart, would it kill him to get some hot running water in the place? People lived in places with no hot water BEFORE they got rich, not after.

He gazed about the room, taking weary delight in its beauty; its huge windows boasting their intricate stained glass design, the delicately carved window seats before them. The bed, still occupied by his two guardians, sat alone on the red floor, noble and ancient, the bed of a deceased Emperor. It had black velvet drapes around it, embossed with a design in red of running stags, which could be drawn for privacy. Or, he mused, for lunatics like himself who slept all day. Everything in the room was so big he felt like an insect. The ceiling, with its depiction of a battle from centuries past, seemed miles above his head. The portraits on the walls of the castle's past owners were twice the height of Draephus, encased in heavy, gilded-wood frames. Even the fireplace he now sat before was of great height and width, the fire it could contain large enough to consume whole trees. However it was dark and empty now, and he sat before his icy hearth and gazed about his room. It was cold, but it was home.

He wished Vesper was there with him.

He felt ill, right to the core of his being, as he thought about him. Vesper, now off somewhere on one of his many trips to the South Continent, not due back until the seasons began to turn cold. He seemed healthy enough, fit and active, but that was the lie. He was sick, had been ever since Draephus had met him five years ago. It wasn't anyone's fault Vesper was ill. For once it was not even the fault of the bloody Grey Boys and their nightmare experiments. He had been born with the virus that lodged in his heart. According to the doctors who had been present at Vesper's birth, too much of anything would kill the baby, and he was not expected to live beyond a few days. Twenty-four years later, Vesper Anterick was still going. Despite being undersized due to his health, he had survived the Revolution, and was one of the most intimidating people Draephus knew. Vesper knew his life would be short, and he filled his days questing for knowledge of his home world, knowledge the Grey Boys tried to erase. He was determined not to waste a day of his existence, especially now that the virus had become active and he could feel his strength beginning to leave him. It was time for one last trip to the South, then back to spend his days with the people he loved.

Draephus hadn't wanted anything from Vesper when he first met him, except for him to stop showing up in the same places he was. But at every underground performance, there he was, a little thin fellow, whose eyes were just a bit too intense from behind his heavy-rimmed glasses. Any fool could plainly see that Vesper was considerably sharper than the average beaker. Raski had wanted him in the worst way, and Draephus told Raski to please feel free, anything to get the little pain out of his life. But Vesper didn't want Raski, and on more than one occasion Draephus would awake in the middle of the night to look questioningly at the small figure in bed next to him. He had always believed in fate, and, after he met Vesper, he learned to believe that there were no certainties in life. Vesper had long ago tossed some of Draephus' favourite concrete beliefs out the stained glass windows.

He could recall their first night together so vividly that he couldn't believe it happened five years ago. Five years was a bloody long time in his life; so much had changed so fast. He still had the damaged weapons in the underground safe room beneath the castle, still had the mild tremor in his right hand from trying to use a laser pistol with a faulty mechanism that made it hum and vibrate every time it was fired. He even recalled the feelings of that time, and the ball of sick emotion that had sat in his stomach. Uncertainty, fear, and, maybe, somewhere in that mire if he thought about it, was a bit of love for the little creepy guy with the glasses.

***---***

He had been sharing some miserable flat with Raski in the Lower Cylinder when he finally broke down and invited the little creep over. A faint smile crossed Draephus' face as he thought about it. He could see it all so clearly. He had been fixing an incendiary, partly with which to annoy the Grey Boys, and mostly keep his mind off the fact that Vesper was coming over. This distraction proved to be of little avail, and finally he dropped the thing to the floor, wincing as he did so and hoping Raski didn’t notice he was tossing explosives around. He looked over at Raski, seeing his friend's eerie blue-white eyes staring back at him.

“Draephus, don’t toss things that could potentially explode into a ball of flaming matter where it can damage us.”

“Sorry.” He slumped back against a dirty wooden crate.

"What's the matter?" Raski asked.

"Vesper," said Draephus, rising to his feet and pacing about the small, dark apartment, cluttered with guns, drums, explosives, and one rather weary red sepulchord, which was missing half its tone-lights. "He's driving me crazy!" He turned sharply, spilling an overflowing ashtray. "Clart," he muttered, looking at the mess.

"So why are you having him over?" Something in Raski's tone suggested he would have been happier not to have Vesper there anyway. Draephus chose to ignore this.

"I don't know," he crabbed quietly. He shuffled his feet, looking like a huge, uncomfortable, and heavily-armed kid. He sighed, then tossed his head back, looking once more at Raski.

"Hey Rask?"

Raski was sitting on the floor, intent upon fixing the computer of a laser pistol. "Yeah?"

"How..." Draephus began, then fell silent. Raski looked up, curious, a faintly evil glint in his eye.

"Yes?"

"Never mind."

"WHAT?"

"If I do decide to advance this relationship,” said Draephus, pausing as he tried to think how best to phrase his question. “What do I do with him?"

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean," said Draephus, mildly annoyed, "is what do I do with him if I take him to bed?"

The two stared at each other, Raski holding the broken pistol. "You're twenty-three and you want me to tell you what you should do with a man in your bed?"

" Just forget I asked, I’m not good at dating men.”

“Men are all we have, thanks to the Grey Boys.” Raski slipped the chamber of the pistol closed with a satisfying ‘clack’. “So, you can wait the rest of your life, hoping to hook up with a woman, of which there is one to every eight hundred men, or you can date Vesper.”

“I’ll date Vesper,” grumbled Draephus. “Clean up that mess, he'll be here soon." Draephus walked into the kitchen and picked up a knife to prepare the meat he had managed to acquire. It was only feralyke, but it was meat, a very rare commodity. There came a knock at the door, and Draephus tossed down his knife. "Great, he's on time. Who is ever on time?" He walked out of the kitchen, seeing Raski quietly skulk off to his room with some of the equipment.

"You'll do okay," Raski whispered as he walked past him.

Draephus snorted and walked over to the door. Opening it, he saw Vesper standing there, holding a bottle of wine. Draephus shifted uncomfortably. Vesper stared back at him, then finally said, "Hello."

Draephus blinked. "Hi, come on in. Please ignore the mess."

Vesper stepped into the room and slowly surveyed the flood of weapons and explosives that covered most of the flat. "I like the decor," he said dryly, "very revolutionary."

"Yeah, ha ha," said Draephus, grinning. He dragged a shoulder-firing laser cannon and an assortment of ammunition belts off of the one and only chair. "Have a seat."

Vesper did, passing him the wine. Draephus took it, reading the label. "Cardilis. I'm impressed. Well I managed to get some meat, only feralyke, but one can't be too choosy."

"Meat?" said Vesper.

"Yeah," said Draephus. Suddenly he felt a little worried. "Why?"

Vesper shifted in his seat, looking sheepish. "I can't eat meat, something about it reacts negatively with my heart medication. Sorry."

Draephus stared at Vesper, thinking about all he had been through to get the steaks, wishing he could just fall over and be swallowed by the floor. Then, from the next room, Raski yelled, "I'll eat it!"

Draephus set the wine down onto the table and sighed, running his hand over his face. "Vesper," he said quietly, "you realise that now I am going to have to strangle you."

"I said I was sorry," The small man was grinning from behind his glasses.

"All over Second City, trying to find one piece of meat that the bugs haven't already sampled, and you can't eat it?" Draephus mimed throttling him, and Vesper laughed. Draephus grinned at him.

"Wine and salad, then?"

Vesper nodded, and Draephus turned and shuffled with exaggerated weariness into the kitchen, pausing to stare at the two large, attractive pieces of meat sitting oh-so-pleasantly in spices and marinade. He supposed he and Raski would eat them later. He put the steaks into the cold box, dished up the salads and returned to the sitting room with them. He set these down on the low table, then fetched the wine. The food he had acquired for their dinner had taken him days of scavenging and bartering to get, and he had no plans of wasting a crumb of it. He sat on the floor next to the small table, letting Vesper have the one chair. They began to eat, both mildly uncomfortable. They ate in silence, no other sound save for the crunching of vegetables, and the occasional scrape of a fork across the bottom of a bowl.

"How do you like the salad?" Draephus finally asked.

"It's very good. What are the..." Vesper poked at something in a bowl, finally spearing it with a fork and holding it a loft, using his free hand to push his glasses up his nose as he squinted at the item.

"The brown things?"

"I wasn't going to put it that way, but, yes, the brown things."

"I don't know. I mean, I know what they are, I just don't know what they are called."

Silence fell again for a time, then Vesper leaned forward, studying Draephus as he sat on the floor.

"Are you uncomfortable?"

"Oh yes."

"I meant on the floor."

"That too."

Vesper laughed softly. Draephus squirmed a little. "I'm sorry, it's just that..." he hesitated for a moment, then said, "I like you, and I don't know how to deal with it."

"Why don't you just relax and we'll take it from there,” said Vesper, smiling as he slipped off the chair and sat down on the floor next to Draephus. The two finished their meal in silence, then Draephus put the dishes in the small, stained sink. He returned to the living room and sat next to Vesper, who poured them each some more wine.

"So how goes the fight?" asked Vesper.

Draephus shrugged. "Hard to tell. There's this new fellow running around with a group of really šukating good fighters. He calls himself Stratavarus. Apparently he's the descendant of a past Emperor. If he keeps fighting the way he is, he'll be the New Emperor. I met him once, he's amazing. When he speaks he makes a person feel like they can do anything. But you know what's really funny? He hates Ra Khan Roll." Draephus laughed a little. "The one person we figure is going to make a difference, and he hates Ra music. Just figures, doesn't it?"

Vesper smiled, then moved closer to Draephus, looking up at him with dark blue eyes. They were the eerie twilight sea colour that was particular to the Eastern Continent. Draephus swallowed.

"I'm afraid of you," he said softly.

"Why?"

"Because I don't understand why I feel for you the way I do."

"Draephus," said Vesper softly, "that applies to most relationships."

Draephus sipped his wine, looking uncomfortable. The warmth of Vesper's body was like fire; the scent of him was distracting. It was getting harder to concentrate on the wine. Vesper edged slightly closer, and he nearly dropped the glass. He felt Vesper's small slender hand slip up his thigh, but Draephus stared determinedly at his wine.

"Look at me," said Vesper softly.

He did, and Vesper moved towards him. Draephus edged back, leaning further and further over until he suddenly found himself on his back, Vesper poised over him. Gently Vesper took the glass from Draephus’ hand, sipping from it before setting it on the table. He removed his glasses, placing them next to the wine. A bemused smile crossed his pretty face as he positioned himself on all fours over Draephus, his knees between his parted legs. An evil glint sparkled in his blue eyes.

"I promise to be gentle," Vesper whispered as he reached down with one hand, opening Draephus' belt with a snap.

"Vesper!"

"Just relax."

He bent and kissed Draephus' throat. He nipped at the flesh, then proceeded to move down his body, opening the metal clasps on the military-style jacket with his teeth. Draephus let his head fall back onto the dirty rug. As he stared up at the ceiling, he decided that he didn't have to know what to do with a man, because Vesper certainly seemed to.

Vesper opened the functional, heavy garment, pushing it away from the powerful body beneath it. He traced his fingers over the scarred and thin body. Draephus was muscular, but there was no spare. In fact, he was far too lean. Like most Sferkkaans, Draephus’ meals were few and far between, and treats like the steak and salad would have cost him dearly. The muscles were starkly defined; the sinews standing out like the cables on a machine.

“You better eat both of those steaks,” Vesper said, and lowered his head to kiss Draephus’ stomach.

His small, thin hand made its way down to the front of Draephus’ grey combat pants, the worn clasp pulling open listlessly. Draephus flinched nervously, and swallowed hard as he felt Vesper’s tongue upon him, tasting him as his hands roamed roughly over his body. He trembled as Vesper moved down lower, and then cried out, his hands fisting at his side, as the smaller man took him deep in his mouth.

Draephus flinched again, but relaxed a little. He could deal with this. He could definitely deal with this. Then, suddenly, "HEY! OW! What the hell are you doing down there?"

He felt a finger enter into him, and heard Vesper chuckle. "Just relax Draephus, it’ll get better."

Draephus had serious doubts about that as he grit his teeth and felt another finger enter him. He was about to call the whole thing off, when suddenly a light exploded behind his eyes. He shoved Vesper off and pulled away from him.

“What’s wrong?” Vesper asked, surprised.

"What was that? Look, forget it, okay? Forget it.”

Vesper cocked his head. “Have you never… done this before?”

“No,” snapped Draephus, too upset and irritated to be embarrassed by the admission.

Vesper’s eyes took on a predatory gleam, and he reached out to catch Draephus’ forearm. “Really. That’s very interesting.” The eyes softened a little. “Look, it will be all right, I promise. I won’t hurt you. Trust me.”

Draephus didn’t, but neither did he pull away. He permitted Vesper to gently push him down to the floor again, tense and uncertain.

“You hurt me, and I’ll kill you,” he said.

Vesper’s eyes glinted. “I know,” he said.

Draephus awoke the next morning to find Vesper next to him in bed. He looked tiny and harmless, almost frail. His lips were parted, making him look soft, childlike, and he had one arm cast about a long-muzzled Night Stalker gun, six feet of deadly firepower. Draephus kicked the gun out of bed, then got up slowly, his body aching. His legs felt weak, and there was a nasty bite on his shoulder muscle, just next to his neck.

"Little creep," he muttered quietly as he rubbed the muscle. He pulled on a pair of loose-fitting pants, then paused by the bed, gazing down at the small, pretty man. He gently stroked the soft hair back from Vesper's face. Vesper shifted in his sleep, then opened his eyes, rolling onto his back. He stretched and yawned. "Hi," he said, looking small and innocent.

"Hi," said Draephus, touching his cheek lightly. "Hungry?"

Vesper blinked sleepily, nodding. Draephus smiled. "I'll see if there is anything for breakfast." He bent and kissed his face, then slowly, stiffly, left the room. He walked into the kitchen, stopping as he saw Raski. His friend stared hard at him, looking him up and down, raising one eyebrow.

"Really worked you over, didn't he?"

"Yeah he did, and where were you while I was getting raped?"

Raski pulled a gun and held it up. "Fixing the laser pistol. Wow, he bites, doesn't he?"

"Yes. He bites. What's for breakfast?"

Raski grinned. "I don't know about you, man, but I'm having steak."

***---***

Draephus smiled faintly. He opened his eyes and wearily looked around his bedroom. The castle seemed colder, quieter than it ever had before. He felt tired, and a dull, sick hate rested in the pit of his stomach, directed at nothing and everything. Stuff always happened to him, stuff always would. Vesper's illness was not the first piece of clart to happen to him, and he wasn't even certain it was the worst. He was a little numb by now to all the things that had occurred to him in life, though occasionally blinding rages bled up through the numbness. He'd fought, vomited, and bled all of his rage out over the last three days; it would take awhile to escalate to a dangerous level once more. His only comfort right then was that Vesper had no idea what he had gone and done after seeing him off at the flight terminal. Draephus was exhausted, he had slept little over the past three days, and, without knowing he was about to do so, he suddenly fell asleep where he sat. His head slipped forward onto his chest, his breathing becoming slow and regular. He dreamed nothing.

The ‘com awoke him a few hours later, and he made no attempt to get it. Somehow he could tell just by the ring that it was Raski, wanting to know where the šukat he was. They had to make an appearance on the Astellis Monct Show. Draephus had never pulled a no-show before; he thought his friends would trust him enough by now to know he wouldn't. Of course, given that it was Astellis Monct, who was an inane idiot, Raski may be worried that Draephus would decide to make this his first failed appearance.

He finished the long hike to the bathroom, the red beings bounding along at his side, lighting the torches and candles for their master in the dark, tomb-like marble chamber. He peered into the mirror. The swelling around his nose had gone down, though it was still sore. He didn't know how he had managed to blacken his eyes so badly. The stitches in his brow line wove erratically from the edge of his eyebrow to a little above the top of his nose, promising a scar. The cuts on his lips and chin were smaller, finer, the wound having been thin and neat. He didn't scar easily, and he couldn't see this cut leaving much of a mark. The one in his eyebrow, however, that one he would have to explain to Vesper...

His stomach did a slow roll, and he wandered towards the huge, free-standing bathtub. Sometime in a previous century, some ingenious nobleman had his servants rig up a pump so he could draw his own baths. Likewise, he had also had a simple drainage system installed that funnelled the water out into the duck pond. When Vesper discovered this, he had immediately thrown out anything deemed unsafe for the ducks, and Draephus had to get used to some pretty unusual types of ‘non-harmful’ soap. A few of these caused serious allergic reactions, and once he had to perform on-stage looking as though he had just suffered the world's most catastrophic case of acne. All for a bunch of ducks. He could hear them now, quacking fit to wake the dead. Stupid ducks.

He had his bath cold, washing the stench of three days in the Cylinder off of his body and out of his hair. He found a tender spot on his scalp, but it seemed only to be a bruise. He gently cleaned off the stitches, and cooled his swollen eyelids by placing a washcloth over them. He was aware of a sensation in his stomach, but wasn't certain if it was hunger or illness: perhaps a combination of both.

He heard the splash of one of his two companions getting into the tub. He knew which one it was without even looking.

"Bacca, this is my bath.”

"Arf!"

"No, get out. I don't have the strength to argue with you."

"Arf!" The creature ducked himself in the cold water, then bounded out in an explosion of wetness, covering much of the bathroom floor in water. Draephus sighed heavily from under his cloth.

"You're dead as soon as I feel better."

"Arf!"

He heard Bacca pause, falling silent, then he and his companion tore off down the hall, barking their fool heads off at the ‘com as it began to ring again. He ignored it. Unfortunately Bacca did not, and Draephus heard the Faylan knock the receiver out of the cradle and begin barking furiously at it. He sighed loudly and heavily with aggravation.

“I just want a bath!” he yelled at the bathroom. Poor Raski, thought Draephus. He'd call him when he got out of the bath. He was probably on the edge of his seat with anxiety.

Draephus loved Raski fiercely, and the emotion was returned fivefold by his friend. Raski was a clown, with a lecherous enthusiasm for all the things in life that were bad for him. The war had left him high-strung and paranoid, which made him perfect for looking after the business side of the colossal undertaking that was now the Gryphons. He was a ball of over-activity, taking it upon himself to tend to all of the band's needs, refusing to let anyone help. Which was fine by the other Gryphons, although what they would do if he dropped dead, no one knew. Nobody really knew what Raski was up to at any given moment, but the band was always carefully guarded from any dirty dealings. Not that a lot of people tried to take advantage of a band of musicians whose sepulchord player had rigged the engines of enemy aircraft to detonate upon ignition. But whatever his larger dealings may have been, Raski's smaller ambitions were on the board for anyone to see. His current aspiration was to go to bed with Delaes Randerick, the lead vocalist from a group called Bad Influence. Draephus would like to have a moving laser-image of that momentous occasion. Delaes had the body of a god, the grace of a panther, and the intellect of cheese. Mars once commented that he was beautiful until he opened his mouth.

Draephus got out of the tub, sending the water off to the ducks, and ambled stiffly into the hallway to check the enormous clock. He was not late, but he had little time to spare. He returned to his room and began selecting clothes. He pulled out a ratted pair of combat pants that had literally survived the Revolution, though not by much. He put these on, then chose a grey sleeveless shirt. Next came on his favourite boots, low and flat soled, with large scuff marks all over them. He tied an exotic-coloured scrap of silk about one ankle, because Vesper had given it to him, then grabbed his crusty, fingerless gloves and put them on. Standing before a mirror, he scruffed up his damp, shortish, blondish hair, and left it at odd angles. Stubble still grew all over his face, and the opaque glasses he put on made him look sinister at best. Then he pulled on his filthy, blood, mud, puke and booze-spattered full-length coat, flipping up the collar. Leaving the room he went downstairs and snatched up the ‘com just as it began to ring.

"Yeah." His voice was quiet and hoarse.

"DRAEPHUS!"

"Hi Rask."

"ŠUKAT, MAN!"

"I'm on my way," he said softly, and hung up before Raski could continue, then departed the castle and went to get Vesper’s black conni. His own conni wasn't going anywhere, ever again.

He arrived a few minutes before show time, finding the other Gryphons in the dressing room. Raski was all over him like a new suit when he came in, wanting to know where he had been for the last three days. Draephus ignored him, lighting a cigarette and easing his pained body into a chair. Astellis Monct came charging in a moment later and nearly collapsed in relief when he saw Draephus, who was feeling rather distant from all the excitement and commotion happening around him. He scarcely noticed when Mars lifted the glasses from his face to stare at the damage. Faded blue eyes stared dully out of swollen slits, gazing into Mars' clear green orbs.

"What happened to you?" that eloquent East Continent accent inquired. Draephus shrugged, drawing on his cigarette.

"Did you win?" Mars asked, smiling. Draephus stared at him, blowing smoke in response.

"Hello Draephus," chirped a voice just off to his left. "Come to join us, did you? Very nice of you. Look, I'm wearing pink, your favourite colour. You look like clart."

Draephus shifted his lacklustre gaze towards Khandid, the quinticord player. He was indeed wearing pink. Bright, shiny, happy pink. Pink shoes, pink shirt, pink pants, setting off his big blue eyes and white-blond hair. The first time Draephus had met Khandid he couldn't tell if he was male or female, and had been afraid to ask. Much as he had tried to hate Khandid, he found him just too funny to loath.

"What the šukat are you wearing?" Draephus snarled.

"Do you like it?"

"No."

"Too bad, I do. Been beating your face against rocks, or chasing parked connis?"

"I introduced my conni to a stone pillar, then introduced my face to the steering wheel."

"Oh. Did it feel good?"

"What do you think, beaker?"

"Just asking. Want some perfume? You don't just look like clart, you smell like it."

Draephus managed a smile, the stitches pulling at his lip. He definitely liked Khandid; he always managed to make him smile.

"CLART, MAN!" Raski went on in the background. "YOU HAD ME WORRIED!"

"Shut up Raski," chirped Khandid.

"Are you going to be able to handle this?" Mars asked Draephus softly, long thick hair, tinted fuchsia, spilling out from under the hat he was wearing.

"I'm fine,” mumbled Draephus.

Astellis Monct ran out of the room to make his cue, finding himself confronted with a screaming crowd of Gryphons fans, none of whom had any interest in what he had to say. Khandid himself bounced out of the dressing room briefly, returning quickly.

"There's billions of them," he announced, "and they're all screaming."

"Nice to be popular," said Yuri Stracona musingly, the first words he had said all evening.

“Hey don’t be going off by yourself!” snapped Draephus, then coughed and clutched his ribs.

“It’s fine,” said Mars, “we had the area checked for triggers before we even let Khandi in here. What is WRONG with you?”

“NOTHING! I might have broken a rib, no big deal, I’m fine.”

Mars had put more than his fair share of broken, bleeding bodies back together, and he tried to look at his friend’s ribs, but stopped, putting his hands in the air in surrender and walking away when Draephus snarled at him. They had known each other too long to argue the point.

A stagehand appeared in the doorway. "You'll have to go on now," said the man, looking frantic. "They're trying to pull the stage apart."

"Impudent little buggers, aren't they?" said Raski, hanging his sepulchord around his neck. "Well, let's go, people."

***---***

By the time the song ended, Draephus' abused body was so sore he was almost in tears. His neck and shoulders were flaming; it was a struggle to move at all. He crossed the stage as though he was centuries old, instead of twenty-eight. When he was finally able to sit down he hoped he never had to move again.

He sat in his usual position, as far from the host as possible. Let the others do the talking, Draephus didn't talk if he didn't have to. He was vaguely aware of Astellis Monct's comment about the audience liking them, of the roar of approval and Raski's crazy laugh. For the most part he was not there, off in a fog of his own thoughts. He noticed an ashtray close at hand, and he reached into his pockets for his cigarettes. He lit one with a shaking hand, then settled himself as comfortably as possible, switching the cigarette to his left to hide the tremor in his right. He ached, he was sleepy, and his stomach was still not certain as to what it wanted to do. At the moment it was more sick than anything. Draephus mused upon this, then began to wonder when he had eaten last. He couldn't recall.

Astellis Monct droned on in the background, and Draephus had to fight to stay awake. Twice his head jerked up sharply. He shifted his position and stubbed out his dead cigarette. The other Gryphons talked on, discussing the last tour, the coming recording, and the time they were taking off now. He could almost lip-sync the questions and answers. He lit another cigarette, then, through the smoke and mental lethargy, heard his own name. He looked up, smoke curling around his face, and his lip curled very slightly. What did this clart want? He rarely got spoken to during these things, but then, recalling what he had done to his face, supposed Monct couldn't resist.

"You've got an attractive set of matching bruises," said Monct.

Khandid intervened, knowing Draephus would not want to talk. "Yes, they're lovely aren't they? If they become fashionable we'll have an epidemic of people smashing themselves in the face."

"Oh I'd be glad to hit you in the face, Khandi," said Raski. "Really, no trouble."

"Oh. Thank you. You're such a šukat."

Monct's face became a little strained at the obscenity that came out of Khandid's mouth. The other Gryphons smiled like the proud parents of an idiot child, while the audience howled its approval. Interviewing the Gryphons, Monct had learned long ago, was not easy. The five of them had a collective attention span of ten seconds, and they were notorious for running interference for one another. Finally, after the audience quieted a little, Monct decided to plough through with another question.

"So how did you manage to get them?"

Dahli screamed when Draephus removed the glasses and she saw the mess. Draephus simply stared back at Monct, who commented, "Quite a mess."

"Yeah," said Draephus, a vague, nasty smile crossing his lips. "I walked into a door."

Nobody in their right mind could have mistaken the mess for anything as ridiculous as walking into a door, especially the thin slash across his lips. Monct smiled at the beaten-looking figure.

"Pretty nasty door."

"Yes it was a big stone one," chirped Khandid.

"A stone door," said Monct. "What did it lead to?"

"A grave or something, wasn't it Draephus?" said Khandid. "Raski wanted to sacrifice a virgin to the solstice, but we needed the rib of a..."

"SSHHHHHHH!" hissed Raski loudly.

"All right," said Monct, trying to hide his aggravation. "I can see this is leading nowhere. And I'm not certain I want to know what you people were doing out in a cemetery."

"Well Astellis," said Draephus in his soft voice, "if you really like what I've done to my face I'm sure I could do yours to match."

Monct gaped at Draephus, not certain as to what he had just heard. If his ears were working properly, then he had just been threatened with physical harm. And somehow he believed Draephus would do it.

"So you'll be working on your castle's torture chamber during you time off, I take it," Monct said in an attempt to lighten things. Pleased to have an opportunity to talk about his castle, Draephus relaxed a little.

"Actually it does have a torture chamber," he said. "And a dungeon."

"Great for band image," said Mars dryly.

"Sounds like a nice place," said Monct. "Anything lurking in the moat?"

"Ducks," said Yuri, the second thing he had said all evening.

"Nasty ducks," said Khandid.

"Nasty fanged ducks," Raski threw in.

"Torture chambers and fanged ducks," said Monct. "Well put me down for a tour."

"Sure," said Draephus, exhaling smoke. "I'll show you the catacombs."

Another threat, more subtle, but a threat. It wasn't worth a broken neck to Astellis Monct to get Draephus to talk. For the rest of the interview he left the man alone.

***---***

The interview ended, and Dahli turned off the Visual. She sat back on her heels. "Friendly, isn't he?"

Diza laughed. "Really." She lowered her voice to mimic Draephus'. "`Well Astellis if you really like what I've done to my face I'm sure I can do yours to match.'"

"That's really scary," said Dahli. "Continent-wide Visual and he threatens Astellis Monct."

"Well nobody ever tried to promote him as being friendly. Wonder what he did to himself?"

"Fighting most likely," said Dahli. "Come on, let's go get the conni."

Disclaimer:

All original fiction and the characters, places and situations with them are copyright Alyx Shaw, and may not be published, copied, distributed or archived without the author's prior written consent.

The characters, places and situations described in these stories are fictional unless otherwise stated in the story headings.

(C) 2008 Alyx Shaw