[Kihreyn]

A slight hissing sound escaping from behind clenched jaws, Kihreyn started forward at Raphael, but jerked back as Sezru took hold of one of his chains. He froze in midstep, with the deer-in-headlights expression typical of a person caught unexpected. For a moment, his composure crumbled; Kihreyn looked as if he might collapse if he had to go any nearer to Sezru, though it was also quite possible that he would do the same if he tried to step away.

“Let go of me,” he whispered roughly. “The bastard’s playing around—” His words withered into a soundless breath as Sezru’s fingers made contact, and he shifted his glare from Raphael to Sezru. He swallowed hard and, after several attempts to speak, continued, “But it looks like he’s not the only one.”

Taking a step back and pulling away from Sezru as he did so, Kihreyn watched Raphael narrowly, taking careful note of the faint smile and the impassive, glazed eyes. It was difficult to say what agenda this faerie had, for even among the loyal Immortals, many had their own lives—their own dreams and desires. Even if Raphael didn’t seem like the type to go running off after his own wants, there was always the chance...

Kihreyn wasn’t much for keeping the underlings in order, but he did what he had to.

He bit back a retort as Raphael bent down to take Sezru’s hand, though he couldn’t help scowling and looking away. “Well, are we done yet?”

[Sezru]

The look Sezru gave Kihreyn was one of curious bafflement, head tipping to the side slightly in what was apparently a silent question. He let Kihreyn pull out of his grasp without a quibble though, just showing his disappointment with a faint downturn of his lips even as he regretfully let the smooth chains slide out of his grasp.

“I am not playing,” Sezru said solemnly, expression firm for a split second before mellowing. He raised his right shoulder by the slight margin as a dismissive shrug—not so much dismissing Kihreyn’s feelings right out of hand, but willing to let things lie for now. “Calm, Kihreyn,” he murmured, “It would not be a grand party if there is a brawl—no matter how quick.” As Sezru finished his sentence, he flashed a smile at Raphael, poisonous sweetness laced within it.

He daintily took his hand back, seemingly demure in the way he tucked it away, with the fluttering grace of a lady at court.

“Almost, Kihreyn,” Sezru said patiently in reply to the other fae’s question, not even a flicker of annoyance on his face, just the soft markings of fond tolerance. He made a slight movement in Kihreyn’s direction, before abruptly aborting it, a thoughtful look stealing over his face even as he settled back down in his previous position, all languidness and sleepy eyes. As if he never moved in the first place.

It didn’t seem like he was listening as Raphael spoke, Sezru’s eyes tracing the fine architecture in the room even as the dancers made sure to swirl out of his direct line of sight. But after Raphael said what he had to say, Sezru’s gaze wandered over to the other fae and, while the smile on Sezru’s face did not falter, it did flatten out a bit, expression going from faded and half-aware to sharp and edged. He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t tense at all, but suddenly he was awake and aware, pretenses falling for a second as he dealt with the displeasure at the thought of the Utlagi disobeying.

“Unfortunate,” his words were crisp, clear like a ringing bell. His lips curved upwards in a mockery of a pleasant smile, a predator about to begin the hunt—or at the start of a meal. “Ah,” he said softly, almost to himself, “How unfortunate.”

“Raphael,” Sezru used the name with deliberate weight, “The Utlagi are not to leave the upper levels. It would be displeasing if our honored guests,” he tilted his head the barest degree towards one of the newcomers, “encountered them at this time.” He paused, fingers lightly smoothing out the faint creases in his shirt.

“Make sure they don’t leave,” he said finally. “It is not time for them to be known yet. Perhaps more guards? Words to entice them to stay longer?” Another pause, and suddenly a mischievous spark flickered in Sezru’s eyes.

“Well…” his voice softened, smooth once more. Grey-green eyes looked deliberately at Raphael, then Kihreyn, and Sezru gave a short nod to himself. “Your opinions on how to keep the Utlagi comfortably ensconced in their present environment? I’d prefer not having to kill some of them to make my point right now.” He idly fingered the edges of his mask, something akin to regret in the curve of his neck, the slight pout to his lips.

“They may make a bigger scene, and I have plans for them later on. I can’t just kill all of them…” he trailed off, the smile on his lips suggesting that he was imagining the scene. “Oh,” he murmured, almost too low for the other two to hear him, “but that is tempting.”