Aziza: "A fox-" He began a sentence that he really didn't have any intention of finishing. Somehow, just repeating it in his quiet manner, helped him to make the gears in his head turn. The deeper Arashi brought him into this, the more excited he became. It really was too fasinating.

While he was wary of smelling foreign objects, he liked Arashi enough to do as he said. Gingerly taking the box, he rose the rim under his nose, taking in a very careful sniff- His ears immediatly twitched, and he jerked it from his face in a violent gesture. "Ugh!" He muttered, holding the box back out to Arashi.

"It's horrid. It-" His eyes were widened by that piece of news. It truly was tramuatizing to speak of matters like that. "I.. have heard of that. Why was this allowed to happen?!" As if there was some sort of authority to keep dogs in line. It wasn't a demand at Arashi really, more like a general statement to the world.
Aramorosama: "It's imperative," his voice slipped suddenly from the airy, meandering sound of indecision into the world-weary authoritarian, "to consider both the social state that humans were in at the time and also the aristocracy of the ethereal court at the time."

Arashi turned back to Aziza and accepted the little box gracefully. "I postulate that the spirit himself was likely a criminal of some sort. There were transactions done between the witches and grey monks and the oni tribes at the time. China was rife with it. Probably, he was a troublemaker on some Oni Lord's territory and was given over to a witch for some kind of binding just to get him out of the way. Sometimes the women of the Oni clans shirked from destroying members of other tribes...." A pause, and Arashi drew his fingers delicately over his lower lip as he thought this through a step further.

"...ah. In any case, he haunts the bracelets, the bracelets are passed down through the human family, and he protects the wearer in times of need. And the wearer has allied himself with a rogue demon from Japan who'd been sentenced to eternal sleep and warded, but now one of your collegian professors has brought that demon here and woken him up."

"How long will it really be until they notice you are not a normal, boring human snack?" wondered Arashi idly, glancing over at Aziza again, perhaps with some pity.
Aziza: "Irresponsible!" As if he had any rights to make a judgment like that. "If I had been in their place, that thing would've been immediately destroyed! Why of all the stupid--" His hissy, under-his-breath rant was cut short when Arashi made that statement.

It wasn't too hard to scare Aziza. Loud noises, fire, among other things could easily send him into shivers, and running for protection. To say something like that killed his appetite, and his tail went limp. He wrapped his slender arms around his own stomach, and leaned back into the seat. Looking a bit on the sick side, he closed his eyes.

This had been the best college to go to for the studies he wanted. To excel in biochemistry, to create the gas that would drive every dog away, or to their deaths- anything to end the cycle of torture his race had to endure from brainless, mindless monsters. Now, he was endangered by something much worse then just a domestic canine.

"I refuse to die." He commented stubbornly, his head tilted in such a manner as to hide half of his face behind his bangs. "I will not allow it. Is there a way I can destroy it?"
Aramorosama: After a moment, Aramorosama leaned forward and picked up a picture of Shay.

He confessed, with much idle amusement, "There are few things that cannot be fixed." In the picture, Shay seemed so utterly human that it was hard to be intimidated by him. He was rather sunny, in an exuberant way, and seemed full of youthful ignorance. Arashi tilted his head to the side. "I have been thinking it would be easiest if he just gave us those bracelets."

It was a fool who tried to steal enchanted jewelry directly off the wearer. Arashi himself had lost three servants attempting that very thing in the course of his years, and he'd learned his lesson.
Aziza: "Can we not just kill him? Isn't that simpler? Or would it release something far worse?" He wrinkled his nose at the disgusting thought. Ah, he was so displeased! And just a few minutes earlier he had felt so pleasant, so spoiled. It was just Murphy's Law that it all had to be spoiled. A feast before him! - without the hunger to enjoy it. Even Arashi didn't look as pretty as he did before when he was in a foul mood. Aziza just plain refused to open his eyes until he was happy again.

"Or," Suddenly being clever hit him, and a smirk dragged across his lips. "I do wonder if he takes those off during sex, or a shower."
Aramorosama: Absently, Arashi flicked the photograph away from himself with a flick of his wrist. It flapped, spun, and floated under a seat. "Do you propose to fight him? If you try to kill the boy, his protector will protect him. I, for one, do not know what he is capable of. And then," Arachan lifted his hands, palms up, as if pleading his trials to the heavens, "I will only have a beautiful corpse on my hands and the fox will know that someone is hunting him!"
Aziza: "So, sex then? Shall I seduce him?" - Then he was hit with the sudden shivers, his eyes opening and narrowed in disgust. "What if he smells of canines?" It was almost a whine, and his tail began to lash. Was all of this REALLY worth it if he had to have sex with something that smelled of dogs?! He had to heavily debate that. Death or dogbreath.

"Once I acquire the bracelets, what should I do with them? Burn them? Give them to you?"
Aramorosama: With a wave of his hand, Arachan smiled and set fears at ease. "I've seen Mister Shay Colinn myself. He doesn't smell of any dog; only magic, and that faintly. It's so light that if I hadn't been looking for him, I would have thought some silly witch had hexed a good luck spell on him." Shay had no even seen him, had not even known he was there; Arashi doubted that he would do anything other than simply fall over dead if only he were attacked without the bracelets.

"All you really need do is deliver the things to me. I can find a way to break them forever." Hands on his own chest, he glowed with a little aura of smug pride. "I can find a way to do anything you need me to."
Aziza: Reaching down, he picked up the picture, examining it carefully. "He looks like the sort who would enjoy the company of a friendly, open girl. Someone honest, gentle- the polar opposite of me." He snorted, and set down the photograph in though. "However," His mouth was curled back up as he leaned in to Arashi, running a fingertip very carefully, and gently down a smooth cheek. "I could have one of my sister's pursue him in a very subtle, careful manner-"

With a sudden twitch, he leaned back. "I can only hope this boy is easy and eager to hop into bed, I do not want this relationship to take weeks when I could die in days. Would that not be tragic?" He pouted at Arashi for sympathy. "Me of all people."
Aramorosama: Because Aziza was so ready to ply every asset he had for pity, sympathy, attention, and affection, Arachan did something rare. Perhaps his desperation to weaken everyone who had or might have allied themselves with his brother had something to do with it, as well. He caught Aziza's hand as he leaned away, clasped it between both of his own hands, and asked earnestly, "Do you think I would let that happen? I came to meet you because I understand royalty, and the importance of strong, rich bloodlines. I've already got someone ready to help you. Anyway that you want to handle this, my prince, I will provide what you need to make it happen."

There was nothing that Arashi would not, or could not, provide, and he wanted Aziza to understand that as long as he was bringing a resolution to pass that would please Arashi, he would have all the support he needed. Dropping his gaze to Aziza's slender wrist, Arachan bowed his head and kissed the royal fingers.
Aziza: "A-Aa..." Arashi went from a pleasant companion, to someone he'd be very much willing to pull into bed. It was rare to see anybody appreciating his royal bloodline, let alone knowing about it! He was pleased that Arashi knew who he was, and the way he was treating him! Even a kiss on his fingers! Such class! Such refinement! With a meal so fine, and a ride so sleek! Aziza was fluttering from his stomach up to his head with utter joy. He just wasn't the type to bubble, only to purr.

"Please do~ I trust you to help me with this situation. Whatever resources that you have available that you believe would be helpful, I would adore it if you would bring them to my attention~" The hand that hadn't been kissed rose up, to lightly trail his fingernails up the back of Arashi's neck, slow, careful. "You are so pleasant, Arachan~. I hope to always remember you this way."
Aramorosama: He had never allowed a cat to touch him of its own volition before, and was dimly aware of the chiming in the back of his head that signaled the rare occurrence of circumstances he'd never encountered before. After a certain amount of years, you stopped running into situations you'd never experienced before.

Once, a very long time ago, there had been a cat. A very, very old cat. This cat had come from China, from the hills and the forest. Maybe he'd crossed the ocean on a boat. Maybe he'd flown with a dragon. Maybe he'd been caught in a storm and the ocean had washed him off the shore and into its foam until the waves delivered it to Japan. But nevertheless, there had been a cat, and this cat was ancient, this cat was the father of cats, the grandfather of the father of the father of the father of cats. He was so old that in his afternoons he hunted the son of a dragongod, and in his evenings he slept in the holy trees around Miraimonoshisama's temple. In the nights he prowled where he would prowl and walked where he would walk, and he would come and sit on the rocks near the top of the mountain where Arashi's home stood, and they would talk in the dark. It was a forbidden thing, but they talked, and the cat said many things, and through him Arashi became sixfold wiser than he'd ever been before. Even that cat, he had never allowed to come near him.

Aziza, though, was a needful thing. His fingers smelled like warm cream, which Arashi liked, and his skin was warm and to look in his eyes was a lazy-sleepy enjoyment. He was much younger, much, much younger than that other cat had been, and this made him more simple, and Arashi liked simple. Fingers that he kissed again, and thought of giving rings to, a hand he breathed on, and imagined in silk. His eyes, when he raised them to Aziza's face without moving the rest of his body, were golden-brassy, and they did the job of looking and looking, eating up what they saw, and making it known that what he saw was worth seeing more of, for he went on looking.

"If I gave you a phone number, would you call it?" He could easily track everything Aziza did, but so much better that he not have to.
Aziza: No doubt if Arashi talked to Aziza in length, the young kitten, even though very impatient at times, would sit and listen intently. There was something about Arashi that drew his attention, which was normally spent occupied with something far more interesting then human contact. This individual had pressed the right buttons, stroked the correct patch of fur, and had gone through all of Aziza's defenses and flirtations with his actions and words.

In the world of cats, Aziza could almost be considered naive. While sly and cautious, compared to the ones much older then himself, he was reckless and adventurous because he had ambitions and a temper. He truly was a kitten among his people, with never ending curiosity. Yet, like all cats, he adored being cuddled and pampered.

He disliked jewelry. Tending to dislike anything that weighed him down - however if Arashi gave him a gift, he would not refuse it. He would stare into those eyes, as they were exotic and beautiful. They reminded him of the contents of a Pharaoh's tomb. Golden, ancient, and beautiful. They drew him in, as if someone was whispering secrets and kisses into his ears that he was dying to hear about, making him shiver.

"Perhaps," Was his playful response at first, before his hands sunk into the soft, curled strands of blue. "If I called that number, would you answer?"
Aramorosama: "No," laughed Arashi quietly, chuckling more to himself than anything else. He rubbed his cheek against the knuckles of Aziza's hand, the fingers of both hands still curled around Aziza's fingers, and then glanced up again. "But if you asked for me by name, you would hear my voice in short order."

Long ago, he'd learned the difficult way that only a fool had many enemies and still answered his own phone. Furthermore, it was not a very 'godlike' thing to do, and he had an image to maintain, a cult to culture, a nest of illusions to uphold....

All he wanted to know was when he let Aziza out the door of this vehicle, it would not be the last he saw of him.
Aziza: "Clever man," He coyly smirked in return. It made sense, though he hated to wait for a gentleman to answer his phone. "Perhaps I should purchase you a private phone so I would not have to go through such methods, and you would be sure to answer on the first ring." He chuckled himself, but that was exactly something that he would do.

His hand turned, so his palm was now resting against Arashi's face. When his fingers curled, he stroked at his cheek, curving around his smooth chin. His voice was quieter, more of a purr then before. "You are such pleasant company, I confess the idea of leaving soon does not appeal to me."
Aramorosama: It was not like him to go into a situation without planning for all possible contingencies. He had planned for this one. While it was utterly possible to meet and pin someone completely all at once, making sure that there were no dangers to yourself there was almost impossible. He could not trust Aziza enough to take him to one of the homes in which he commonly lived. But- "I have a suite on Church Street," he answered quietly, "And no one can threaten you there." On that, he was positive.

His sense of small was threatening to overwhelm him. The closer Aziza came, the thicker the smell of ancient spices became, making a glittering, gritty golden haze across his mind's eye. "If you come with me, I have to beg you to tell me more about you. I may not know as much as I seem to."
Aziza: The assurance of Arashi's words alone made him feel at ease. He was not one to trust entirely, at any times, but he pick and chose what words he wanted to believe in. To be safe was one of his highest priorities. "You are generous with me," His voice was barely a whisper as he felt drawn into those eyes. Riches, secrets, knowledge that made his soul shake. He knew the man currently in his touch was one that could easily drive humans to insanity.

"I will come with you," His eyes were barely lidded, and the hand on Arachan's face cupped under his chin securely, tilting that face up higher. "I will share all the wisdom you desire, if you grant me the same courtesy." His lips brushed at his chin, teeth grazing at the pale skin.
Aramorosama: Only through extreme effort was he able to control the impulse to nip back. But his nip would have been sharp and sudden, not gentle. Cats were like this. Little sharp, pearly teeth that would nip and nudge and demand attention, causing pain but never real pain, hurting but not really marking, little superficial demands. Cats, cats.

"I will answer every question you have," he promised, drawing himself up from the stooping bow Aziza had formerly only hardly managed to nudge him out of. "Until you can stand to hear no more. Nothing you could have learned in that school of man can compare to what I could tell you."

It was not arrogance to say it.

Aramorosama tilted his head to the side and parted his lips, touching the warm, damp pad of his tongue to the bridge of Aziza's nose. He wet the skin and then sampled a brief taste of what was to come. It was important to him to always know as much as he could learn in advance. It...improved his performance.

"Do you have a family waiting up for you at home? You should call them."

Not that they could have come after Aziza and found him if they were worried.

Not that Aramorosama was very concerned about their wrath.
Aziza: Arashi knew exactly how to touch, how to react. Not too strong to chase away the kitten, but gentle, inviting, warm, tugging Aziza's senses to pull close and get warmer. His eyes shut when he was licked, a purr escaping his throat, and his fingers instinctively curled.

Without looking, his mouth found the place under Arashi's chin. Faint nips from the tip, down to his throat. Resting his mouth there, he breathed slow. Both hands lowering from their positions to rest at Arashi's chest. And his tail? It had reached up to curl around Arashi's nearest wrist. "They do not wait for me, as they know where I am. Unless you have taken me to a place no feline could tread." Arachan wouldn't do a thing like that to poor Aziza, would he? It would frighten the kitten so much.

"I wish you to keep me tonight."
Aramorosama: "Keep you?" repeated Arashi.

Outside, the first of what would be a long rainstorm pattered against the windshield. It battered the windows and rattled down on the roof, timid at first but quickly becoming aggressive. Water poured down in sheets, whole waves of rain to drench the colour and light out of the world outside. Arashi seemed not to notice. His hand curled over the back of Aziza's white-haired head, gently smoothing down hair as soft as fur.

"Everyone knows that no-one can own a cat."

And then he had to catch his balance by jabbing his elbow against the back of the car seat, the other hand rising to grab Aziza's shoulder as the wheels of the limousine hydroplaned and caused the backend to fishtail. Ashe held Az, his grip was not rough or ungraceful, but for a moment, as he looked towards the wall that separated them from the driver, the flesh that held this prince of cats in place was more like velvet pulled over stone.

Then desert sun eyes lowered back to the cat's face, and he smiled with the undefeatable good humor of someone who has absolutely nothing to fear. "I suppose an offroad vehicle would have been better suited for weather like this. I apologize."
Aziza: The smirk was very obvious, pressed against Arashi's neck. Lips parted to respond to that very accurate statement, before his heart leapt up to his throat. The sudden moment caused him to immediately toss his arms around Arashi and cling on for dear life. His legs were no longer in a normal seated position, but rather up on the seat, leaning towards Arashi, his face buried deep against his neck. Poor thing even shivered. While he appeared entirely confident in himself, he really was so young when it came to dangers.

"A-Aa.." He let out a very soft noise, leaning back his face to gaze up at Arashi, his mouth twisted up in a very faint pout. "It is not your fault. Though I would inquire why your driver was going so fast." Perhaps as fast as his current heart race, which could probably be felt very well on Arachan's part, considering that their chests were pressed tightly together. Nails that had been faintly digging into Arachan's shoulder blades relaxed, thankfully only enough to mark and not pierce skin.

The rain was so sudden- normally his kind was very good at predicting weather patterns. Perhaps he had been too wrapped up with his company to notice.
Aramorosama: "Maybe he's afraid of being caught in the flood waters," suggested Arashi gently. But he was happy to share his security with Aziza. He gathered the kitten up, his slender arms snuggling around a body all too vulnerable. There was a time when he was easily harmed as someone like Aziza could be, and he fancied he could sympathize with being in such a state. Didn't humans die in car accidents by the thousands every day?

"The gods do not kill princes in mundane ways. This car ride will not end badly," promised Arachan. How to make Aziza happy? Arashi's thumb and forefinger hooked around the base of Az's sleek, slender tail and slipped down its length slowly, straightening the fur almost politely. "You can't tell, but we're almost to the hill on Church Street. Four more blocks?" he asked, hopefully. That's all you have to wait, precious mewface.
Aziza: With any normal person, he would've fussed greatly in the arms of someone. With Arashi, he was immediately relaxed. Limp in his arms, not even the slightest bit stiff or uncomfortable. The ease he felt with this new, fascinating man was why he was so content with saying such words as 'keep me tonight'. It'd been a long time since someone had had such an effect on him, and like any good kitten, he was always up for soaking in attention and affection.

He purred loudly at the pet, the arms that were around Arashi tightened to hug him- body stretching against him. "You have the most comforting words. I wish you to keep saying such things to me all night." A smile at that as he sighed. "I will reword myself and say I wish to keep you tonight."
Aramorosama: "They say my kind are notoriously dependent on the first person who stays near and close long enough to imprint upon them," offered Arashi with a strong air of truth, as outside, the air lit up with a haze of white light so pure, so blinding, that for a moment, all was nothing but a burning glow in which tiny flecks of ash, little spots, slowly shifted down. It was one of those moments that can only be a fraction of a millionth of a second in actual time but which elongate into hours for those who live through them.

A tree standing tall and ancient at the side of the road, not five feet from the limo, exploded into a shower of sparks and burning wooden shrapnel as the bolt of lightning tore it in twain from crown to roots. Aramoro's mouth moved against Aziza's lips, one hand cupping the back of his sleek head. In that fractional moment of destruction he had ducked, and kissed, and of course had to continue to do so afterwards, so quickly that even without the interruption of death, one might have been at an utter loss to see it. Very seldom did he do things to display his inhuman nature. But Aziza was special. Aziza was Another kind, and with him, he could be himself, and that was Arachan, but more truly Aramorosama, a traveler of continents and spanning decades.

If he let Aziza leave him, he what kind of idiot would he be?

With thoughts like these in his head--and more--he yanked the tidy prince of so many whiskered godlings closer with the hook of his left arm, for chest to chest was not enough.
Aziza: There was much to be said about dependency and loyalty on Aziza's part. When he gave his affections, they were heavy, intense, and loyal until the day the one he'd been given them to dared to step on his tail, in one way or the other. A kitten so small could raise such Hell when his pride was hurt, it was practically impossible to forgive discrepancies. However, when one laid in Aziza's affections, they would know strong emotions, and actions would not be wasted.

Arashi had amazed him. His conduct and actions were exceptional, and while his family would tell him 'be wary of strangers', Aziza was more wary of those he knew and loved, for those would be the people who could more easily betray him. He would enjoy what he had for the moment, and enjoy it thoroughly. If it would be the death of him, at least he could remember kiss that was now invading his mouth. As shocking as powerful as the lightning that destroyed the tree, it caused someone as small as Aziza to shudder.

Not unpleasantly, at all. Only to cling tighter, those eyes to squeeze shut, mouth and body melting against him. His heart went at what seemed like a mile a second, but he couldn't feel it. Arashi had won him over, without even the smallest bit of protest.
Aramorosama: They were a block down the street before the remaining halves of the oak tree came crashing down into the overflowing gutter, sizzling and snapping a powerline cable as it went. If the drivers were concerned at all for being careful in the beginning, now they were doubtlessly thinking only of getting to their destination quickling.

Arashi had similar designs in mind. He thought he must see Aziza dressed the way his ancestors would have dressed him, a godling for a holy desert temple, something smokey in simple wealth to cow the people and charge the imagination. He though he might, if Aziza became trustworthy enough, someday take the cat down, deep under the city, to the wicked places where the source of all his real strength grew, and make him a godling again, in more than just name and form; a godling on a pedestal before the worshipping throngs. He thought he could take more than just that which he had anticipated, that it made the hair on the back of his neck, soft and lambish in its cloudy blue curls, prickle up.

His fingers curled into white hair and pulled Aziza a little closer, nails scratching gently at the scalp beneath. Teeth scraping Az's lower lip once--they were sharp and long, though not as narrow as a cat's teeth might be, of course--he licked again, this time Aziza's tongue itself. Taste, smell, and touch were far more important to him than sight, and sound was a distant third. The more he could taste, the more he could know, and it was hard not to break bones with his hands when be became eager, eager like this-
Aziza: Gentle, gentle. He was a delicate kitten, not one of the grand cats that hunt antelope. While he was just as eager, curious, and affectionate, anything that became too rough he would shy away from. If Arashi treated him well, he would find Aziza very pleasant, and his loyalty would not be swayed.

Lips faintly red, swollen from the kiss, he panted for breath quickly, only to get the bare minimum of oxygen that he needed before losing himself again. Nipping, licking in return, tasting just as much as Arashi was. He wanted it burned on his tongue, never to forget the flavor. The smell of sweet air, intense power, and soon incredible need was filling his nostrils. He'd never experienced anything so intense as to make his very mind hazed.

There was a faint, young mewl that escaped him, his nails digging a bit harder into Arashi's shoulders, relaxing, then tightening again. Kneading, purring, tiny and sweet in such a situation. So different from the spoiled, snobby brat that he expressed himself to be to anyone else.