Azusa may very well be a man, but he's a man of his word. Gathering the requested pictures barely took any time, especially with people like Viktor in his corner. By the time Viktor spread the word, the whole city was wary of him. Perhaps it'd bring an innocent boy misfortune, but he'd never once been wrong about his suspicions. Regardless, he'd made a promise, and he intended to keep it. Either way, he knows that business with Fleur is never as black and white as it seems.
Right on cue, lantern in hand, just at the highest point of the cave, a pigeon flies north. Azusa wastes no time, following it at a steady pace. It leads him into a dark alley, where only the fabricated lighting casts a faint glow on the female figure standing at the very end. He approaches, slow and steady. Closing in, he calls out, "Hello there, pretty." At that, he's almost met with a punch in the face.
In that moment, Fleur's fist meets the palm of his hand. She sighs, both relieved and clearly aggravated. "You're such an ass," she bites back—Azusa can't help but chuckle. He pulls a chair by the nearby barrel, serving as a table, and sets his lantern beside him. Sitting down, he slips another four pictures from his pocket and places them atop the barrel. "You sent the pigeon. You should've expected me." He and Fleur have a special way of communicating. It comes in birds, most commonly pigeons. Given the underground is, as you might assume, underground, there are never any birds around. Most people acquainted with the business down here pay it no mind.
Of course, this method has its flaws. If someone unaware of the unspoken rules of the underground follows it, the situation could turn unpleasant. Therefore, Fleur sends out multiple pigeons in flocks. To know which pigeon to follow, Azusa looks for a sign—a red tie around the left leg.
Azusa gestures at the pictures. "I brought what you asked for, as promised." Fleur doesn't bother sitting down. She walks over, spreads out the pictures, and looks over each one. She hums—a fairly good sign, given her body language, he assumes she's satisfied with the material. "You have no idea how much I want to deny you." From the moment he stepped into the alley, he could tell she was in a foul mood. At that, he slips out a stack of cash and slides it toward her.
She takes it and hides it somewhere he can't quite see. Having money on you, if you were anyone but him, is simply inconvenient. Not in a purse, and definitely not in your pockets. Especially as a woman. Fleur keeps her money hidden in specific places. That's why she chose this spot to meet. Then, she sends out a trusted informant to retrieve it and bring it back to her office. "You said you want to meet the boy," he begins, but she quickly cuts him off.
"Not today. I have business." Ah, so that's what this is about. Must be unpleasant business, he deduces. That likely means the topsiders are getting greedy. More specifically, topside merchants Fleur manages trade with, bargaining prices with petty threats. "Anything I could help with?" he asks instinctively, knowing he'll be turned down. "You?" she asks, almost in disbelief. "No, I don't need your help." If it were anyone else, he might've felt offended. But if this were anyone else but Fleur, they wouldn't be speaking to him like this in the first place.
Azusa met Fleur in his early years traversing the underground, back when they were both young. She had ambitions then, ambitions she has undoubtedly achieved. Business in the underground is scarce, but Fleur managed to create a connection between the underground and topside that hadn't even existed back then. Naturally, he grew to admire her over the years, no matter how little they interacted. Despite all the work she put in—she was the only person who had shown him kindness and offered him help. It's a shame she's never let him return the favor.
"Right. I'll be off then," he speaks after a long bout of silence, taking the lantern off the floor. Fleur looks up, and somehow, he can feel her smile. "Take care." Just as he stands up and begins to head off, she stops him. "Oh, and be careful around that boy." Another one of her gut feelings, he presumes. He'll take care to listen to her advice. "You too, Fleur." And with that, he walks out of the alleyway and into the town square. It's fairly quiet at this time of day, although he's unsure if it's even daytime. It tends to be eerie for tourists who are used to the hustle and bustle of the topside, but Azusa finds peace in it. This is his home turf.
Heads turn as he walks by, but he doesn't acknowledge their prying gazes. It's nothing he isn't used to. Instead, he's in search of a specific mask. Or rather, a specific brown-haired individual. Sure enough, after surveying the town square, he spots him standing in front of the auction house. Right—the same auction house that'll be hosting a special event today, with its most valuable items up for bid. The auction house is owned by one of Fleur's most infamous business "friends." Given the trade association manages trade between topside and the underground, aside from money, they bring in valuable items. These are exchanged at the auction house for a grand sum of money.
He wasn't intending on going, but given the event is invite-only, and he doesn't seem to have an invite, he takes up the bargain. This might be a valuable chance to gain some crucial information on this man. He walks forward, lantern in hand. Soon enough, he's close enough to hear their conversation. "Listen, kid, you're not on the list. I can't let you in." Xander seems to be having trouble with guards lately—even from farther away, he can see the irritation brimming straight off him. He's lucky Azusa's especially interested in him.
As he approaches, the guard, Drax, looks toward him. "And if he's with me?" Drax straightens, and suddenly, his body language and attitude change drastically. Xander whips his head toward him, clearly bewildered by his sudden appearance. This guard also happens to know him, though not personally. Although Azusa rarely goes, he's on the invitation list of every event that takes place. The guard clears his throat, interrupting Xander before he can speak. "Please, excuse my rudeness. I wasn't aware he'd be accompanying you." Drax steps aside, graciously opening the door for them.
Azusa throws Xander a glance, gesturing for him to go first. "In we go, then." Azusa can hear him gulp, perhaps from nervousness—and he finds it amusing. He walks in alongside Xander, the door closing behind them. As they enter, he can sense Xander looking around, bewildered. Aside from the trade association, this is the most lavish, exclusive building the underground has to offer. It's out of place, almost like it belongs topside. Although the event is invite-only, Azusa happens to be one of the few special guests of the owner himself. He finds that thought disgusting. He's never been a fan of the owner.
He pushes the thought aside. They're hastily escorted to the VIP section on the top floors, overlooking the entire auction house. Regular guests sit below, huddled together. From up here, the stage is on full display. They sit down, and as they do, Azusa sets his lantern aside. They're handed boards on which they'd write down their bids. Throughout this exchange, Azusa can feel Xander's gaze on him. He says nothing, however, letting the boy wallow in his own anxiety. He doesn't even know him, and yet Azusa knows he's seen and heard of him everywhere. Surely, that's bothered him. After a long silence, Xander speaks up.
"... Are you going to say something?" he presses, his tone low, almost as if whispering. Azusa doesn't turn to look at him; instead, his gaze remains on the guests mingling below. "No, not really. I'm fine staying quiet." He'd rather not give him the satisfaction of knowing anything more than he's already heard about him. Rumors about him circulate everywhere. Rumors of his business, which most don't fully understand.
"What's with you? Who even are you?" Xander bites back, frustration seeping into his tone. Azusa's having quite a grand time toying with him. He's sure there are many questions swirling in Xander's mind—for one, why he keeps showing up so conveniently to meddle with his business. "I'm Azusa," he replies simply. Xander scoffs, his frustration now on full display. "I know your name. Everyone does." That, Azusa knew well. His name is one of the first you hear when you step down here. "And if you know the underground, you know that's a stupid question." At that, Xander quiets down, and with him, the whole venue. Right on cue, the curtains on the stage open, and a spotlight drops down to highlight the auctioneer.
The auction isn't a show, and Azusa has never viewed it as such. Not until today. Why would Xander want entry to an auction specifically in the underground, not even two days after he arrived? He's incredibly curious. He wants to know exactly what Xander is looking for and why. More importantly, he wants to decide for himself if Xander will get it or not.
The first couple of items are nothing special. They range from ancient swords and artifacts to antique, vintage clothing. The first thing that catches his eye isn't an item—it's a person. A young girl, chained, and practically thrown on stage with little regard. Azusa perks up, and beside him, Xander does the same. He'd heard stories of the auction house selling off humans—but he'd never believed it. Despite being on the guest list for every event, he'd never actually attended. He knows the owner well; the man's a sick individual. But this—this was unexpected. Throwing the girl on stage without a mask? The very principle of the underground relies on anonymity. This wasn't right—not even to someone like Azusa.
Bids begin like wildfire, mostly from old men. A deep feeling of disgust begins to brew in his chest. Instinctively, he picks up the board. In the background, he can hear the bids continuing. "A thousand, can we get two, two thousand? Yes, we can, wonderful!" It repulses him. They regard the bidding for the life of a young girl just like they do for vintage items. As Azusa raises his board, he hears gasps echo through the venue.
"Twenty thousand! Wonderful, just wonderful! As always, from our star guest. Twenty-five thousand, anyone for twenty-five thousand?" Ironic, referring to him as a star guest. He barely ever comes here. The bids continue, back and forth, until the top bid sits at thirty-five thousand. Azusa scoffs, and for the second time, raises his board. "Sixty thousand! Sold to our star guest. Arrangements will be made, and you can claim your item after the auction concludes. Thank you for your generous bids." At that, he feels Xander staring straight at him. Pensive, eerily concerned. That's not something he's seen from anyone down here in a long time.
"What will you do with her?" Xander asks, cautious as he does. "Nothing," Azusa replies simply. He hadn't really considered it yet. Either way, he doesn't intend to keep her. The girl was barely clothed, and no name was provided. Given her age, he doubts she came here willingly. As she's brought backstage, Azusa finds himself thinking. She looked young, too young for this place For a moment, he wishes he'd thought this decision through. However, upon reflection, he'd rather not leave this girl to those pitiful old men.
The items flow by fairly quickly, and Xander has yet to bid on anything. That only further confirms Azusa's suspicions—Xander is clearly here for something specific. After what feels like an eternity, the next item is introduced: a stone. The auctioneer claims it's ancient, passed down through generations of aristocrats, and renowned for its ability to heal ailments and illnesses. Azusa finds that incredibly outlandish and is reluctant to believe it. Yet, beside him, Xander writes down a bid.
How curious, Azusa thinks to himself. "Now, for such a precious stone, our starting bid is ten thousand," the auctioneer announces. All that, for a tiny stone? Azusa wonders if anyone besides Xander would bid for it. But, as expected, many here are money-hungry and deluded. He's proven right. The bids rise, and Xander's offer climbs to twenty thousand. Azusa's suspicions that the man is wealthy are quickly confirmed. Where he got this money from, he wasn't sure. It could be family or a topside business. Hopefully, whatever information Fleur can gather will help deduce that.
Growing tired of the constant bids, Azusa decides to play a game with Xander. Picking up his board, he writes down a bid and raises it. The auctioneer grins back at him, and internally, Azusa feels disgusted. "Top bid, thirty-five thousand! Sold to our star guest, once again." For some reason, Azusa feels pleased that Xander didn't get the chance to place another bid. Once again, Xander stares straight at him. Setting down the board, Azusa stares right back. "Something wrong?" He's teasing—of course he is, Xander's clear attachment to the stone interests him more than he'd like to admit. He almost seems angry that Azusa took it. "Nothing." He replies after a brief pause. Instead of arguing, Xander stays quiet and looks back at the stage.
"And that concludes today's event. Our generous buyers can head backstage to pick up their items." With that, the curtains close, and people stand from their seats. Some leave, while others head backstage. Azusa picks up his lantern and heads down from the VIP section toward the backstage area. Xander, however, stops him. "I need that stone." Azusa hums, clearly uninterested. "You'll get it back when I'm done with it." He moves to step forward, but Xander, once again, blocks his path. Now that's interesting.
"And when will that be?" Xander presses further. Azusa tilts his head, moving closer. He quite literally towers over Xander, who's fairly short—around 5'7", he guesses. "Whenever I decide I'm done, I'll find you." With that, he shoves past him, their shoulders brushing for a brief moment. For a second, Azusa sees Xander hesitate to follow him. Then, he walks away—clearly angry and frustrated. Very interesting.
By the time Azusa reaches backstage, most buyers have already picked up their items. First, he's handed a bag containing a box with the stone inside. Then, another worker brings out the girl. Right—he almost forgot. He had quite literally purchased a human. What annoys him, though, is that they bring her out still in those chains. Moreover, they hand him the chains, as if they were meant to stay on.
"Take the chains off," he says. The girl stares up at him, her eyes filled with worry and fear. Her eyes are blue, with red rims around them, as if she'd been crying. Her skin is pale, and her blonde hair is disheveled. "The chains are a safety precaution," the worker replies. Safety precaution? The girl is basically skin and bones; she couldn't harm him even if she tried. He scoffs. "Did you hear me wrong? I said take them off." At his insistent tone, the worker removes the chains. Instantly, the girl rushes toward him, hugging the side of his torso. Azusa freezes.
Physical touch has never been enjoyable for him, and affection in the streets of the underground is practically a myth. Yet, the girl is clearly afraid. Azusa can't deny her the simple need for comfort, no matter how cruel a person he is. He tilts his head toward the exit, and the girl lets go, following his command almost robotically. It's highly disturbing. The two leave the auction house together, with Azusa carrying both his lantern and the bag containing the stone.
Their destination is home. Or rather, Azusa's home. She'll stay with him for the time being until he figures out what to do with her. Azusa isn't adept at dealing with children. He's never had to, nor has he ever wanted to—but now, the situation demands it. As they walk, he glances down at her. Though calmer than before and no longer in immediate distress, she's clearly wary. Azusa clears his throat, attempting to soften his voice to avoid scaring her any more than necessary. "Can you tell me your name?" he asks, and she looks up at him.
After a brief moment of silence, she responds, "My name is Aeryn." Her voice trembles slightly, either from fear or the cold. The underground is a large cave system with no sun and, therefore, no warmth. The girl is barely dressed, so naturally, she's cold. He quickens his pace. Before he can reply, she speaks again. "...What are you going to do with me?" She sounds terrified, though she's visibly trying to hide it. Azusa finds himself pitying her.
"What do you want?" he replies. He's unlikely to keep her for long, and he certainly won't treat her as a slave in the meantime. She seems lost in thought, considering the question. It probably wasn't the answer she expected. "I don't know," she says, and somehow, Azusa had anticipated that. If he were in her position, he wouldn't know either.
"That's okay," he assures her, hoping it'll bring some comfort. Surely, she won't feel at ease with him right away. He hopes he can eventually make her feel safe, at the very least. "We'll figure it out." For the first time in forever, he finds himself trying to reassure someone.
That's strange. He hasn't done that in a long time.