IX. Welcome Qwerty finally ducked his head to avoid looking around. It only got him motion sickness to watch the walls whip by as Tristen navigated his gigantic house. He felt some small relief that they only descended one stairwell, at least. Beyond that, Tristen moved purposefully through the halls of his home. Qwerty couldn’t keep track of where they went. That skill never seemed very strong in him, despite a lifetime of training.
Eventually, the Varan entered a room through a relatively narrow archway, and stood on the threshold. Qwerty took the time to survey the room. It was small, for Varani standards. A very wide, flat device hung from one wall. A couch situated before it, facing the black screen. There were some machines on the floor in front of it, connected by thick cables and cords. A bookshelf occupied the wall opposite these machines, just to the left of the doorway. Qwerty turned his focus on the occupant of the couch.
It was another Varan, of course. It lounged on the couch, its wings partly unfurled and hanging over the edges luxuriantly. Qwerty narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as he looked. This Varan was rather difficult to describe. It turned its head to see who had entered, and broke into a toothy grin. It stretched and dismounted from the couch, standing up slowly. Qwerty still couldn’t be sure if it was male or female. While Tristen was definitely masculine, this one was tougher to decide.
“Aww, he’s awake, Tristen? You guessed right!” the new Varan said as it crossed the short distance to join Tristen by the door. The voice was rather smooth and pleasant, and Qwerty decided it was more male than female. Even so, his prettily-defined facial features and longer, shiny black hair gave him a very girlish appearance.
Tristen slowly ferried Qwerty up to eye level with both Varani. He nervously glanced back and forth between Tristen’s orange eyes and the new Varan’s stony grey ones. “Yes, he’s awake, but still not talking.” Tristen answered in a subdued voice.
The new Varan scoffed and pushed some of his hair back over his shoulder haughtily. “Well of course, he’s probably freaked out,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Wouldn’t you be after getting carried off by someone super huge?” Qwerty, despite his fear of the entire situation, couldn’t help but take a liking to this Varan. At least he talked sense, though his appearance made none.
Tristen frowned and looked steadily at Qwerty for a moment, who rolled his eyes but, of course, remained silent. Finally, Tristen answered sheepishly, “W-well, he was all alone out there …”
“Yes yes yes, I know, you told me,” the new Varan dismissed with a wave of his hand, which was just as dainty and slight as the rest of him. He focused on Qwerty, who returned a steady, wary gaze. “Hello, Tinic,” he began, and Qwerty nodded slightly to show he understood the greeting. “My name is Ronan. It was I who so expertly treated that poor little wrist of yours.” Qwerty raised his eyebrows and looked at the bandaged limb with surprise. Small or not, Ronan’s hands were still quite large by comparison, and it was impressive that he could do such detailed work.
“Ronan lives here with me, my dad, and my brother,” Tristen explained after a second or two of more silence.
Ronan waved his hand dismissively again, with that certain flair he clearly had. “Yes, yes, bore the little guy why don’t you.” Qwerty snickered slightly. Then, Ronan leaned in close to address him, prompting the Tinic to flinch back in surprise. “Now, Tristen said you didn’t want to talk earlier, are you feeling different now? Have a name, little one?” he asked excitedly.
It was Tristen’s turn to smirk as he answered before Qwerty could refuse to speak. “He still won’t talk—I’ve decided to call him ‘Mouse’ until he at least tells us a name.”
Ronan grinned mirthfully. “That is cute! Yes, I agree,” he reached out rapidly and brushed Qwerty’s hair with one finger. Qwerty ducked, startled, but the Varan’s touch was incredibly gentle for the size difference. Ronan seemed to have had a lot of practice at being delicate. He then held his hand palm-up directly next to Tristen’s. “May I please give you a tour of our home?” he asked, his voice laced with sweet innocence.
Qwerty stared at the offered hand, stunned. So far these Varan were not what he’d expect. As bumbling as Tristen was, and as bubbly as Ronan was, they were definitely civil. This confused him quite a bit, as he’d been trained all his life to expect vicious, brutish behavior from these dragon-giants. He was interrupted from his thoughts when Tristen started to tilt his hand and mutter encouragement. He steadied himself and stepped onto the other Varan’s palm, kneeling safely again and shooting Tristen a glare.
“La! Well, Mouse, it is my pleasure to introduce you to our humble abode!” Ronan chirped as he gestured to the room with his other hand. All the while, the hand Qwerty mounted remained impeccably steady. He wondered where Ronan learned such strange behavior, and where he learned to handle things so carefully. Even as he wondered, he was whisked away on the grand tour, Ronan avidly chattering and Tristen following close behind.
Qwerty sighed discontentedly as the tour finally came to a close. He’d been able to map the huge house all the while, and it was frustratingly and dauntingly large. Not that the outside world was any smaller. Ronan brought the tour to an end in the room Qwerty had awoken in. He sat on the sofa next to the side table where the makeshift bed still remained. Tristen sat in the chair adjacent to it. Ronan allowed Qwerty to step onto the side table before tossing his hair back, crossing his legs, and settling into the sofa.
“Well, Mouse, what do you think?” Ronan asked brightly.
Tristen chuckled. “It’s probably a lot to take … also, he’s probably still not gonna answer you, Ronan.”
Ronan pretended to pout. “But I have been oh so nice,” he gave Qwerty a pleading look. Qwerty scoffed and shook his head.
Ronan made a sour look before smiling again. “Well, Mouse, I like you anyway, even if you are far too quiet.” Qwerty tilted his head and gave him an odd look. “I bet we’ll get you talking yet,” he added, shaking his index finger slightly, almost tauntingly.
Tristen scoffed. “Ronan, he’s not here as some sort of social experiment,” he began. “He’s here because I thought it was dangerous for him outside.” Qwerty shot him another glare, but it didn’t have as much heart behind it anymore.
Ronan clapped his hands together. “I know, I know,” he sighed, defeated for the moment. “Well … how about we set up a place for him to live comfortably?! It would be dreadful hospitality to keep his bed on a side table like some common boarder!”
Qwerty sat down on the table and put his head in his hands, shuddering. It all seemed like too much. He didn’t feel like a guest. He felt like a prisoner. And he’d done it to himself, by locking up his words. He sighed heavily.
~~~~~
Ronan. The token ambiguous character here. Yup.
And, so there's no question or confusion, he is quite gay. Hope no one's offended. It's not a huge plot point, but Ronan swings for the other team.