Chyan stared at the entrance to the kitchen and listened to the familiar sounds coming from it. His Master's sudden appearance in the doorway startled him and he turned his eyes away. Before he could feel guilty for thinking about disobeying his Master's last command, silverware was thrust into his line of vision.

He took them without glancing up. A warm hand brushed lightly over his hair. Before he could react to the unexpected touch it was gone, and so was his Master, in a flap of silken robes.

He began setting the table as he'd been instructed, glad for the distraction. His Master had been very secretive for the last three days. Chyan had assumed that when it became his business, his Master would let him know. Then today, his Master had gotten out of bed long before the sun had begun to show its pink glow in their rooms. Kalin had gone out of the room without him, taking Chyala instead. When they'd returned the bags of purchases were put in a drawer before Chyan could see what had been bought, and then Kalin had been all but sealed in the kitchen for the whole day.

Chyala had shaken her head, shook her pale blue wings and departed without explaining what was happening.

He had tried five times to discreetly question his Master about what was going on, and five times he'd received a cryptic buzzing sound. Three times he'd offered to help his Master in the kitchen, and three times he'd been ejected from the room with a gentle push.

He didn't even know until this morning that his Master could cook. Kalin had always seemed content to lounge the mornings away in bed and let Chyan cook.

He knew his Master was up to something, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what. He'd quietly asked the young boy who cleaned for them if he knew something about the Master's mysterious behavior. The youth had shrugged and said that last year at this time, Kalin had been seriously ill, still recovering from the effects of being in Cryo for too long. It was new to him too.

Now supper was upon them, and he still didn't know what was happening. He didn't like not knowing, and he could feel the beginning of his anger swelling in his gut.

He dropped Kalin's set of silverware into place and jumped a little when it crashed against the long fluted stem of Kalin's glass. The crystal hummed angrily at him. He hastily checked the stemware for a nick.

He glanced at the kitchen, hoping his Master hadn't heard his angry outburst. Kalin's silver-white head slowly appeared in the doorway and golden eyes seemed to search him.

Chyan blushed guiltily and looked away.

Slender hands on his shoulder pulled his attention back to his Master's face. A gentle push propelled him towards the bathroom as long fingers began to pull at the bands that held his long hair back in hundreds of little braids.

"But Master. I..." A severe look stopped him mid-sentence. He started again, chastising himself for forgetting again. "Shihr Kalin, I washed my hair yesterday, you shouldn't need to put it up again for five more days," he protested.

Something warm and soft seemed to cover him from the inside out.

"But it takes hours for you to put it back up," he tried again.

Another gentle push propelled him into the bathroom. Long fingers quickly removed the remainder of the bands from his hair, stole the glasses off his face and tested the shower water.

"What are you doing?" he asked again.

His Master smiled warmly and shut the door tightly after ensuring that none of the trailing crimson and gold robes were in the way.

Chyan quickly pushed the lock button before divulging himself of his beige cotton tunic. The front was stained with food grease. He folded it up and placed it in the laundry chute.

The water was exactly the way he loved it, nice and hot. He ducked his head under the stream, before turning his back into the spray. It filled the bathroom with a strange, but familiar thrumming sound, as the water struck his wings. He stretched out his good wing, and smiled. It just cleared the edge of the showering area. The bathroom was larger than their living area. Kalin had insisted they expand the small room when he'd seen how cramped and difficult bathing with wings could be. Now it was big enough that he could have stretched out both wings and still have room left over.

He pulled in his good wing, and moved his injured wing the small distance it still moved. Carefully he stretched it out in the spray, and worked the stiff elbow joint under the warm water. Quickly enough the old wound began to ache from the strain, and Chyan returned it to its oddly angled way of hanging.

He washed his hair and his body before just standing under the wet heat of the shower. A light knocking on the door brought him out of his mindless standing.

He took several bath sheets. One he wrapped around his head and another around his lower body. Then he shook his wings, dislodging them of the water that beaded all over. The final towel he dropped over his shoulders and wings, holding it closed at the neck.

He stepped out of the bathroom in a puff of steam into a transformed living area. Gone were the bright overhead lights; instead hundreds of candles lit the area with golden light. The white walls had been covered with brightly colored material, much like the Master's room was decorated. A delicious aroma met his nose, though he couldn't identify what he was smelling.

Kalin chirped at him from his own room. He answered his Master's summons.

He stood in the doorway in surprise. His Master was the only thing of color in the white room. Crimson, gold, and burgundy robes cascaded down his Master's unbelievably tall body to pool on the white floor. It made his Master seem surreal, not really there somehow. In his pure white room, not only did his Master's silver-white hair have pale blue highlights, but the Master's pale skin was a matching shade of blue.

Kalin stood waiting. Chyan shook the strange image from his mind and sat down. He sighed as long fingers worked through his hair, parting it off into little sections. He'd become too familiar with their routine to even notice as Kalin tugged on the hair, forcing the heavy orange locks to lay in flat braids.

Much sooner than normal his Master touched the side of his cheek with a warm hand. He touched his Master's work. The braids ran along his scalp to the crown, where they stopped and fell free to hang down his back with the rest of his hair. The back was completely unbraided.

He turned to his Master to question this new hairstyle.

Golden eyes met his, a strange light dancing in them.

The warmth of his Master's soul flickered reassuringly over him as long, pale blue fingers took the towel over his shoulders from his grasp. It was dropped carelessly onto the floor.

"Master?"

His Master had never asked to participate in his dressing, undressing or bathing. Kalin seemed to know how uncomfortable it made him.

Calm reassurance flowed down his spine and pooled in his gut like a warm brandy.

Blue hands reached out and removed the towel that hung around his waist.

Golden eyes flickered over his body, but rested nowhere too long.

Some part of Chyan's mind screamed for him to cover his nakedness. Images of past torments flickered before his eyes. But a lethargy had spread itself to his limbs and he found himself unable to move them. He knew that if he fought hard enough he would be able to, that the warmth that bled to every part of him would let him go. Instead he stood trembling, waiting for whatever his Master would do to him.

A cool robe fell over his shoulder, and each wing was carefully fitted through it before it was pulled closed. Three times more his Master did this before tying the robes closed with a thin silken belt.

The hair trapped beneath his collars was gently pulled out, and Chyan found himself propelled into the living area as his Master finished collecting the towels and hair supplies.

The Master's enormous full length mirror had been moved from the bedroom and now stood in the living area across from the dining room table.

Chyan hated mirrors. He hated seeing himself in them even more. But found he couldn't change course. He was gently buffeted to stand in front of it.

An amazing image met his eyes. Jade green eyes stared out of a pale pink, pointed face. The golden glow of candles flickered on gold and red hair, seeming to make it dance and flicker as well. The severity of the braids against the pale scalp was softened by the flaming waves that settled over small shoulders.

Fragile collar bones peeked out of the V neck of the silver, pale blue and periwinkle silk robes.

Chyan reached towards the beautiful image, stunned by the boy before him.

Long, slender hands landed gently on his shoulder, startling him as Kalin's bright robes appeared behind him as well as the boy before him.

Golden eyes smiled at him from within the reflective glass.

The warm reassurance returned, giving him the courage to glance back to the boy wrapped in pale silk. A pale hand reached up and fingered the flame-colored tresses as his own hair curled softly around his fingers.

Without thought, he reached for the figure before him, trying to see if the youth were real. His fingers found only cool, smooth glass. He retracted them and touched the soft fabric at his neck. It was luxurious beneath his fingers, and for the first time, he understood why his Master insisted on being swaddled in it at all times. He ran his hand down his chest, enjoying the feel of the fabric. It was odd to watch the stranger before him mimic his movements.

He glanced up at his master, who smiled down at him. Silver-white hair feathered across his face as it fell over his Master's shoulder and between them. His Master leaned closer.

Chyan felt his heart beat faster and turned his face away to the figures before him, to find golden eyes staring at him from over the other boy's shoulder.

The mirth in them was tempered with his Master's usual solemnness.

"Master, I-" His Master's eyes rolling skyward and the sour taste of his Master's mild irritation stopped him short. "Shihr Kalin," he began again, "I don't... I don't understand. Who..." He stopped again and reconsidered his question. Asking who was in the mirror sounded stupid, though he was having a difficult time believing it could possibly be himself. He wondered suspiciously if his Master had somehow planted the image into his mind, but quickly tossed the thought to the side. His Master was many things, but dishonest was not one of them. "Why?"

He turned his head and belatedly realized how very close their faces were. His Master, however, simply tapped him gently on the nose with a long finger and stood up, rearranged the long robes and walked to the door to their suite.

"Shihr Kalin?"

His Master pointed to the box of decorations they had made over the last two weeks.

Obediently, Chyan picked up the box .

Suddenly the door swished open and his Master strode through, out into the dimly lit corridor beyond.

Chyan slowly followed. He hated going out in public more than he hated mirrors or looking into them. People always stared and some even went so far as to point. He knew he should be used to it by now; he'd been an ugly freak his whole life, but somehow it always seemed to hurt.

His Master led them through the bleak twisting corridors. They crossed the market area, where people moved busily around. Unsurprisingly, the crowd parted around them, allowing them to pass unaccosted. His Master's regal bearing seemed to affect people that way, but he heard the whispers as he passed them. He lowered his head and watched the hem of Kalin's robe, silently urging his Master to walk faster.

Suddenly his Master stopped, and Chyan almost ran into Kalin. He quickly sidestepped and managed not to step on his Master's robes.

"Shihr Kalin, the gardens have been emptied as you requested, but if I might again ask-" Chyala's familiar voice suddenly cut itself off.

"Oh my gods. Chyan," the woman's soft voice reached his ears.

Her bright green eyes were wide, her hand covered her open mouth and unreadable emotions crossed her face.

Chyan felt tears begin to form in his eyes. It had been a trick. He was still as ugly as he'd always been. Anger burned in his stomach and he suddenly wanted to throw the box he carried. He wanted to scream in anger at the person standing next to him. He wanted the whole world to know how angry he was.

Before he could do anything with the emotion, she had crossed the gap between them, pushed the box out of his hands, and was clutching him to her.

"Oh, Chyan, I'm so sorry," she wept. Her hot tears fell on his face. "My beloved, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." Her blue and white wings wrapped around them both.

He waited in stiff silence for her to let him go. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had held him without pain. Flashes of unyielding arms holding him down while pain ripped through him flickered through his mind.

Soft lips joined the tears on his face. His whole body involuntarily stiffened and he shut his eyes, whimpering his fear and pain.

From somewhere far off he heard his Master's voice calling to him. Light tendrils of warmth filled his frozen muscles, easing the ache in his chest. In a whoosh of air, he released the breath he didn't remember holding. The next breath wheezed in and out before he was suddenly released from the terrifying embrace.

He realized his Master was chirping to Chyala, and fought to figure out what they were talking about.

/...not do that, Chyala. He does not understand your pain. Even if he did he could not share it with you like that./

Chyala's arms were crossed across her chest. Master Kalin's hands pressed against her own.

"I'm sorry, Shihr Kalin. I know I'm not supposed to touch him... I... It's just..."

Kalin made a soft soothing sound and wiped the tears from her face.

/You had simply forgotten. Your duty has always come first. I am your duty. And he has become mine. Weep no more./

The ribbons of warmth that surrounded him slowly melted away the panic, and his breathing eased. He knelt down and picked up the scattered decorations, still trying to understand Kalin and Chyala's conversation.

He always felt he was purposely being left out. He turned back to them and felt a surge of unnamed emotion.

Chyala was beautiful. She had perfect wings, white that darkened to a beautiful sky blue at the tips. Her hair was the color of spun gold, her green eyes the shade of a priceless emerald. He didn't like her perfection, and he was beginning to dislike his Master touching her.

Golden eyes turned to him, and he immediately felt guilty for his thoughts. His Master had the right to touch anyone, including Chyan himself. He had no right to say that what his Master did was right or wrong.

A pale hand entered his vision, the palm up, fingers outstretched.

Slowly he lifted his own small hand and placed it in the much larger one.

Like bright lights, warm emotions flooded him, eroding away the last of his fear and anger.

His Master reached down, picked up the box and pulled him into the gardens.

The doors whooshed closed behind them. The biodome was cold, winter had set in well over a month ago. A light snow had fallen sometime since their last visit three days ago. It covered everything with a white blanket, turning familiar landmarks into strange lumps. Here and there footprints marred the white perfectness along the paths closest to the doors, but few of the ship's occupants appeared to venture deep within the garden during the winter.

/Chyan/ His Master's thoughts in his head pulled him away from the white landscape.

/Please forgive Chyala. She did not intend to insult you. You remind her of someone dear to her./

"Someone dear to her?" Chyan repeated.

/You have hidden your beauty for so long and so well, she did not see it in you until this evening. When you stepped out from behind me she was surprised./

"I'm not beautiful, Master. I don't want to be beautiful. I want..." he paused, unsure of how to explain.

/To be left alone. Yes, I know, little one. But regardless, beautiful you are. It was this beauty that reminded her of the man she loved. Though she has not yet figured out why you are so small in comparison./

Chyan shrugged. Everyone was taller than him, even Chyala. Even being female, she was a good head taller.

"But she called my name, not her..." He paused before saying lover. The word was too intimate. /Perhaps his name was Chyan as well?/ Kalin suggested as he carried the box deeper into the garden until finally they stopped before their favorite tree. Kalin insisted it was the oldest tree in the garden. The gardener argued that all the trees in the back row were of the same age.

Chyan didn't care. He only knew that its branches spread out the furthest, giving the best shade. It seemed to him that the grass grew more lush beneath it. His Master agreed. They had spent many an afternoon hidden away from Chyala and the others beneath its branches.

Chyan watched as his Master set the box down and pulled out a long purple piece of silk before turning golden eyes once more to Chyan.

"Do you really think that Chyala's... love was named Chyan as well?"

Kalin shrugged. /I do not know. The things I have told you were surface thoughts. The things that passed through her mind when she saw you. The image of the child she lost so long ago. These are the things I know./

"How did her child die?" His curiosity was getting the better of him. "Did the Hunters kill it?"

Again Kalin shrugged. /That is not for me to say, Chyan. She did not think of how he was taken from her, only the sadness of his loss./

Chyan opened his mouth to question his Master further about what he'd seen in Chyala's mind when his Master stopped him with a stern look.

/It is neither of our concerns, Chyan. Discussing Chyala's past is not why we are here. May we proceed?/ His Master asked quietly.

Chyan nodded. "Yes, Shihr Kalin," he answered meekly.

His Master stepped forward and tied the purple cloth to a branch above them.

/Come help me to decorate our friend, Chyan./

Chyan reached into the box and pulled out a painted golden acorn. Then he looked up at the massive tree. There were no branches he could even begin to reach.

He glanced at Kalin, who was hanging a wind chime in a branch further around.

"Why are we doing this again?" He knew he hadn't managed to keep his anger out of his voice, and at the moment he wasn't sure he cared.

Kalin smiled. /Well, listen to you. Have you so little faith in me that you believe I would bring you here to stand in the snow and watch me?/ Chyan blushed. "No, of course not, Shihr Kalin."

His Master laughed. /Oh, of course not./ His Master's sarcastic tone held no malice.

Kalin moved next to him again. /We have a festival every year, during the time of Sleeping, after the frozen tears of Asgard have fallen and covered the ground with a white blanket. It is the hardest time of the year for all. The festival is to remind us of the gifts we have been given throughout the entire year. We show our appreciation by giving things back to the people and places that have given to us.

/Our tree has given us shade and protection from rain. It is only fitting that during this time of Sleeping we give back some of the joy he has given to us./

Images of past celebrations flickered through his head. People laughed joyfully as they gave each other presents created from their own hands. Chyan watched as children climbed a tree so massive it would not fit within the biodome they were standing in. They raced through the branches, trying to be the first to reach the top and put the best gift on the topmost branch.

Rosy faces sat around a lush table as they ate and talked, sharing their favorite stories of the year that had passed, and their hopes for the coming one.

Cheerful music washed over him as lithe bodies danced, expressing their joy with more than just words.

Slowly these images faded. He understood Kalin was trying to share the joy sh'he had received from hir native holiday with him. He opened his eyes to find a branch floating before his face.

He glanced down, only to realize his feet were no longer on the ground. Kalin was floating next to him, completely unruffled by this new turn of events.

"Kalin! I can't fly!" He yelled while flailing to find something that would support his weight.

A calming warmth lapped at his panic, making him face his Master once more.

/Still no faith, little one? I will not let you fall. Now hang your decoration from the branch./

He did as his Master bid.

Slowly they raised higher into the air. The ornaments followed them up until they reached the very top. Finally he was handed the last decoration. At first he thought it was a wreath, but after closer inspection realized it was a nest woven from twigs, pieces of colored cloth, grass, and lined with feather fluff. It didn't take a genius to figure out where Kalin would have come up with pure white feather fluff. Inside the nest were three eggs.

They had had their insides blown out through small holes in the tips and were now just fragile shells. The topmost had been painted green with a bright yellow sun and star respectively. Flowing script flowed over the rest of the egg. Chyan hadn't even been aware his Master knew how to write. He knew the egg was to represent the hope of spring.

The second egg was startling in its contrast. The egg had been left white, while three figures of different colors stood within a triangle. The top figure was painted in reds and golds, the figure to the left was green and brown and the figure to the right was done in severe colors of black and silver. They were connected by lines of the palest blue. Around them danced figures of every color imaginable. Each person was connected to the next with pale lines of color, creating an intricate weave across the egg.

This egg had to be the people of Kalin's lost past. The ones that were gone after sh'he awakened from hir long period in cryo. Kalin's red and gold, Angelise's greens and browns, and stoic Ettienne's black and silver. Around them danced their friends and family, forever connected to them. Chyan could still remember Kalin's burning pain at losing them. It had almost driven him insane the first time he'd met Kalin. They had finally sedated him and separated them for a while until Kalin could control the worst of it. There were still times Kalin wept for them. Now however, his Master shielded him from the emotions so he wouldn't become distraught as well. But this egg held no pain in its paint. Kalin wasn't mourning them. It was an expression of his Master's joy that they had been part of each others' lives.

The third egg was smaller than all the others, and had him completely stumped. The top was an odd shade of orange with gold and red streaks. Bright green dots were spaced between a large space of blue and white. He brought the nest closer to his face trying to see what Kalin had painted on the last one.

Suddenly the face in the mirror was staring back at him in minute detail. The only thing different was that his Master hadn't braided his hair in the painting. It seemed to be standing straight up, making him appear to be some strange kind of upside down carrot. The robes he now wore were painted on it, as well as his oddly angled wings down to the almost indiscernible lines of his feathers.

/I didn't want anyone to be confused as to who I was thankful for having in my life. I'm not sure, but I *think* the hair gives it away./

His Master's humor was sweet like honey, but beneath it lay the firmness of sincerity.

"But why would you be thankful for me? I'm not even..."

A long finger pressed to his lips stopped the remainder of his sentence. /You have remained my companion even though you do not like people or their company. You became my voice when none other could. And we have discussed your sexual preferences and my own. I do not ask you to join me in my bed as anything more than a friend and you do not hate me for what I am. I do not need anything more from you than that, and am thankful 
for every moment you give me./

/Do not be misguided by thinking that is the only way I am capable of seeing you. You are beautiful and grow more so every day. If you ever change your mind all you have to do is ask./

/Now let us return home./

Chyan looked around and realized they were once more on the ground.

Together they trudged towards the door. They had almost made it out when a hand tugged at the collar of his robes. Chyan stopped at his Master's silent cue. Suddenly something very cold slithered down the back of his robes and seemed to be making a nest between his shoulder blades.

He jerked away, shrieking with surprise.

The color of laughter ran through him as his Master held up hir long slender hand for inspection.

"Shihr Kalin!"

/Everyone keeps telling me you're so frigid. Seemed warm enough to me!/

Slowly his Master advanced on him, hir long fingers wiggling.

/Do you have any other warm spots I might rest my hand against?/ Kalin's mind was filled with golden laughter and the images of running people, squealing with delight.

"NO! I do not!" Apparently his Master wasn't listening because sh'he simply continued to grin manically and advance on him. "Don't you dare! I-"

Chyan finally realized talking was not going to stop his Master. Those cold hands were going to put themselves on his warm spots. With that knowledge as fuel Chyan shot out the door of the gardens, unable to hold back the squeal of delighted fright that ran through him.

This time they ran through the market place with him in the lead. Surprisingly enough the crowd parted the way for him as it had for Kalin.

He reached their suite with his Master on his heels. He jammed the open button and ran in, his Master following quickly. He put the dining room table between them.

"Put those lethal things away!" he shouted to his Master. "You could hurt someone with those frozen icicles."

He couldn't help but laugh. Kalin's laughter was too contagious. All too quickly his Master was standing next to him, and he was scooped up for a quick swinging hug around the room. Before his brain could even register the contact he was back on the ground with his Master fixing the lay of his suddenly untidy robes.

/Now, seat yourself and I'll bring in supper./

"But Master, I am the sla-"

Red hot tendrils of his Master's anger touched him and he stopped before he said the word that his Master seemed to hate more than any other. He'd made the mistake of calling himself a worthless slave just once. He had never seen his calm Master display such a sudden change of emotion before. Kalin had suddenly gone from contentedly golden to fiery red. Chyan had promptly been shaken and then squeezed in an enormous hug before his Master had gained enough control to stop and pointedly tell him *never* to say that again. For the remainder of the evening his Master had hovered about him, never touching but never out of arms' reach either. And his usual golden content had been tinged with shades of melancholy.

Chyan hadn't missed the weeping spell his Master had once Kalin had thought him asleep in his bed. While he hadn't been able to feel his Master's emotions, he had still heard the heart wrenching sobs. Sleep had been difficult to find that night.

Chyan sat down in his seat next to Kalin's and waited. His Master returned with a large dish in hir hand. The remainder floated around hir in a strange cloud of metal. Each item was carefully set on the table, then all the lids opened.

His plate was filled with meats, salads, strange colored vegetables and berries of every description. A hearty stew was spooned into his bowl and lastly, his glass was filled with a light lavender liquid.

His Master filled hir own plate, but seemed to be waiting for something before sh'he started eating.

Chyan lifted his spoon, cooled it with a short gust of his breath and ate his first bite of his Master's cooking.

The broth was thick with a meaty flavor. The longer it sat on his tongue as he chewed, though, the more he noted the light flavor of the spices and herbs his Master had used. Some were familiar, some were not. It was delicious and he said so.

His Master smiled at him and began to eat.

Each consecutive dinner item was treated with the same observation period. His Master waiting patiently for him to taste the creation before eating any of it. The wine was as light as the rest of the meal, its full flavor not appearing the instant it hit the tongue, but blossoming slowly, its true nature revealed only after the liquid was swallowed.

Overall the meal had been a myriad of light flavors that tantalized the participants' senses, urging them to eat a little more to fully understand the food's subtle nuances. Each dish left wonderful aftertastes that meshed perfectly with the dish that followed. It was as if each dish was intended to enhance whatever came next.

He was now completely stuffed, and his Master was still trying to find space to stuff a little more.

"Shihr Kalin, I *am* very full. I really couldn't eat anymore." As if to prove that, Chyan belched loudly before covering his mouth, horrified.

His Master simply nodded and began to clear the table.

This time, he refused to be left out. He grabbed dishes and hurried into the kitchen. His Master took them, cleaned them of their leftovers and carefully placed them in the washer.

The fire crackled cheerfully, its heat slowly warming his still-frozen toes. Kalin rustled around behind him, digging through things.

"Kalin, can I help you find something?" he asked quietly.

Kalin shook hir head and finally pulled several objects out from under the bed before joining Chyan on the soft rug.

The wine must have been stronger than he'd first assumed. He found he simply didn't care about the things that usually bothered him. Like his Master sitting so close, or the fact that his robes were sliding off his shoulder.

Instead he picked the dust bunnies out of his Master's silver hair. He sighed and tried to follow the flow of his Master's thoughts. He couldn't remember feeling so relaxed before, or at least not when someone else was with him.

His Master set a wrapped object on his lap.

Chyan looked at the gift speculatively, then up at his Master.

"What's this for?" he asked.

/For the gifts you give me./ Chyan's brow furrowed. "I haven't given you anything."

His Master rolled golden eyes skyward and sighed heavily. /Has anyone remarked on your argumentativeness before?/

"I'm not argumentative."

His Master's eyes went wide with surprise. /You're not? Well pardon me, little one, I must have confused you with some *other* small winged creature. You all look alike to me./ His Master's eyes sparkled with mirth.

Chyan snorted. "Thankfully, no one else looks like me. I'd hate for anyone else to be cursed this way."

He covered his head with a hand after Kalin thumped him on the head with a knuckle.

/Stop arguing with me, and open your present,/ His Master scolded gently.

Chyan pulled at the string, and slowly unwrapped the gift. Inside were more robes of varying shades of blue and purple.

"Thank you, Kalin." He held the silk to his cheek and rubbed against it. He sighed at its softness.

The paper was removed and another present was dropped in his lap.

"Another one? But I don't have anything to give you."

/Did I ask you for any? You have already given your gifts, I'm just trying to return them./

"But I-" He stopped as his Master's hand raised over his head again "Thank you, Shihr Kalin."

/No Shihr's tonight. Just Kalin./

Chyan nodded and opened his next gift. It was a soft bound book. It looked hand made.

/Well, open it./

Inside, in carefully handwritten script, were recipes. It took Chyan only a moment to realize they were the recipes for tonight's dinner.

Chyan found the book difficult to read due to its continuous shaking, and something seemed to be in his eyes. He wiped at them with the back of his hand. Many of the pages were still blank, giving him room to add more recipes as he found them.

"Kalin," he started as he turned back to his Master, only to find Kalin's face very near his own.

His Master's sweet breath brushed against his cheek. Golden eyes bored into him. Chyan licked his lips nervously. There was only one reason his Master would be so close. Kalin was going to kiss him.

//I can do this. It's the least I can do for the gifts. One kiss can't hurt that much.// But he found himself backing away from his Master's face despite the words he chanted to himself.

/Do you like it?/

"Y-yes, Kalin. I li-like it very much."

/Good./ His Master moved away and began to fuss with the logs in the fire.

His hands were shaking and he hastily put them in his lap to hide them from his Master. He was glad Kalin hadn't. Or at least he was pretty sure he was glad; he just couldn't quite convince that annoying little voice at the back of his mind that sounded so disappointed

He reminded himself of the many painful reasons he was glad, and the voice faded away.

His Master got up and returned with their glasses, giving Chyan time to collect himself.

He took the long fluted crystal from his Master and stared at the pale liquid within.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" The thought shot out of his mouth before he even realized it.

His Master laughed. Blues and purples washed over him.

/No. Did you want me to?/

"No. I wanted you to-" He broke off his sentence and drowned 'to kiss me' with his wine. When he came back up for air, the glass was empty and his Master was staring at him quizzically.

/What, Chyan? What did you want?/

Chyan swung his head and instantly regretted it. The room swayed alarmingly. "Nothing," he mumbled and tried to steady the room around him.

His Master shrugged and a heavy object landed in his lap.

"Another one?" /Do we have to have this conversation again? Just *open* it./

Chyan nodded and fumbled with it. His Master finally leaned closer and helped him with the unruly paper that refused to come off. Long slender hands handed him a shiny cool object.

Chyan turned it over, and looked at the dark bristles. It was a brush. But his mind refused to accept that a brush weighed so very much. He turned it over again and looked at its shiny surface.

On the back were two birds of paradise in flight. Around them, trees and vines twisted, running down the handle.

He spun it in his hand again. Engraved on the front of the handle were the words, 'Chyan, may you soar higher every day.'

This time he couldn't stop the tears that blurred his vision.

"It's beautiful. No one has... I don't... Why?"

His Master's soft hands wiped away the tears that had somehow managed to run down his face.

/There is no reason for tears, little one. I'm glad you like it./

The last of the damp trails was wiped away and his Master removed hir hands from his face. Chyan caught one with his own before it could move out of his arms' reach.

He pressed the back of his Master's hand to his cheek. It was warm and soft. He rubbed it against his face and sighed. It reminded him of the silk robes. Unlike the robes, it pulsed against his skin and sent little shivers down his spine.

Another tear escaped from beneath his closed eyelids.

/Chyan, what is it?/

Chyan pressed his eyes more tightly closed. How could he explain? No one had ever given him such beautiful and precious things before. The Palace had taken care of him, provided for his needs, but never given him anything as a gift. They had simply pitied him. His only Master had tortured him, forced his touch and his need upon him, and in the end, maimed him beyond healing.

No one had given him their beautiful memories of their families. No one had listened to his boring discussions about food. No one had cared enough to create a meal only for him. No one had gone out of their way to make him things with their two hands. No one had ever wanted him to fly, much less soar.

How could he tell his Master these things? The words once spoken would sound foolish. And his Master would never understand that he had done nothing to deserve these things. Didn't his face beg to be hit? Wasn't his body created for pain? These were the things that Masters wanted and he had never given them to Kalin.

He knew he could remedy that if he had the courage.

He opened his eyes. Golden orbs stared at him with deep concern.

/Chyan, please tell me what causes you so much pain. Fear grows in my heart, little one. Please, Chyan, what can I do to ease it?/

He could feel his Master's fear, a little niggle of worry at the back of his mind. If he could feel his Master, then his Master could feel him. Their physical contact would ensure that. If he could hear his Master, then his Master could hear him. He usually spoke out loud because it was difficult to be sure what Kalin could and could not hear. It made it simpler to separate his private thoughts from thoughts Kalin could see. But these words he could not bring himself to say out loud. Fortunately, he didn't need to.

/Kiss me./ He thought the words loudly, ensuring his Master would hear them.

He could feel his Master's surprise. He leaned in closer to his Master, ensuring Kalin would understand him.

/Kiss me, Kalin. Kiss me,/ he chanted, wondering what was taking his Master such a long time.

His Master's hand turned over and cupped his face.

/Chyan?/

His Master's voice was soft. Chyan ignored the question in his Master's voice and kept up his chant.

/Kalin. Please. Kiss me. Please./

Finally, his Master lowered hir face close enough for their noses to touch.

/Please. Please hurry. Kiss me/ He pushed away the fear that was beginning to creep forward. After this he would deserve his gifts.

Chyan watched as his Master's golden eyes fluttered closed and Chyan followed suit.

Something as soft as silk brushed against his lips. His eyes opened of their own accord as a warm arm wrapped around his side, a hand gently pressing against his back giving him support.

Surely his Master didn't call that a kiss. They had barely touched.

He waited again and this time something wet ran lightly around the outside of his lips. An unexpected shiver ran down his spine, and he wrapped his fingers in crimson silk, suddenly finding himself needing the extra support.

He moved his lips, trying to catch Kalin's agile tongue, only to find it withdrawn from him.

He groaned at the unexpected loss. What was his Master doing? This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen. Was it?

He moved his hand, clutching the fabric on his Master's back, and tried to pull his Master closer to himself.

His Master finally obliged him. Warm lips pressed against his own. They were soft yet firm, insistent yet undemanding.

Lightning coursed down his spine and lit a spark in his groin. Behind it, a slow swell of pleasure dribbled over him, crimson red with streaks of gold. Instead of quenching the flames of pleasure in his belly, it seemed to feed them.

Kalin's tongue ran gently over his lips and Chyan found himself opening his mouth to the tentative touch.

His Master's moan rumbled between them. But instead of diving hir tongue into his mouth and plundering it as Chyan expected, his Master slowly moved away.

Chyan opened his eyes, wonderingly. What in the world was his Master doing now? Surely that wasn't all? There was more. He *knew* there was.

Dazed, Chyan watched as his Master removed his clenched hand from the back of hir hair. The palm of his hand was gently kissed before it was placed in his lap. His other hand was gently removed from his Master's clothing and kissed like the first, before being placed in his lap with the other one.

Slowly Kalin's arm behind him unwrapped itself and Chyan readjusted his weight so he was sitting on his own again.

Kalin ran pale fingers down the side of Chyan's face.

Chyan caught the hand before his Master could pull it away. "No! Wait! You can't just stop. I mean, you're not done, are you? That wasn't enough. You deserve more than that!"

Suddenly Chyan was scooped up into his Master's arms and he was airborne. When his world finally righted itself, he found Kalin and himself seated in his Master's rocking chair. He was tucked under his Master's chin. His legs were pulled up against his chest, safe and warm under his robes. Long arms were wrapped around his waist, holding him against his Master's body.

Beneath his ear, his Master's chest rumbled with each breath. It took him a moment to recognize the sound. His Master was purring.

"Kalin?" Chyan couldn't make out what was happening. Why was he sitting on his Master's lap, wrapped up like a child? Hadn't he offered himself to his Master? Hadn't they kissed? This definitely wasn't what came next.

Golden contentment spilled over him, washing away his questions. Unable to resist, he floated in the glorious warmth. The last thing he remembered, before sleep overcame him, was Kalin's hands stroking through his hair and vague images of a blue- clad angel soaring high above a snowy white landscape.

/Happy Sleeping, little one. Happy Sleeping./