"I thought you had this section sealed."

The speaker's presence was not surprising, but Dais was surprised that he spoke. Not that his reaction showed, mind you.

"If we have gained anything from out past, Kail, it is the privilege of changing our minds." Dais lifted off its web a spider no larger than a prayer bead, watching as it crept carefully over his knuckles, and worked its mandibles in consideration.

The Jackal almost smiled, a tightening of lips around feral teeth. "Now you sound like him."

"He sounded like me," Dais returned evenly, with a touch of arrogance, returning the spider to its home. Something else had caught his elegant violet eye; something that shone quietly in the dust.

Kail shrugged in disinterest, but his cold eyes devoured his surroundings hungrily. "What is that?"

Dais was carefully turning a small black marble shape over in his elegant hands. "A mortuary tablet."

"Beyond the obvious, illusion master. Whose?"

"I do not know. Another Doji. A woman."

"Mother? Sister?"

"It does not say. How unusual. Perhaps a wife."

Kail snorted his disdain with a faint rustle of grey silk. "A wife? Him? Oh, honestly Dais."

"She would have died before he came here. He would not have been the kind to speak of it." Dais set the tablet down gently, offering it a polite bow. Kail scowled. Death was his domain, but he had a profound lack of reverence for it, like how a spoiled child viewed his roomful of toys. But Dais was older and had learned more readily from his past. Death was something worthy of respect. Whether or not Kail was, he was unsure. He lacked discipline. Brash child.

The epithet in his mind did not summon the image of the warlord of darkness, however. Instead, reflected in the small surface of black marble, he could see the shine of emerald eyes, an impertinent fall of red hair. He looked away.

On a low table was a graceful black bowl, surely a finer thing than Anubis had ever owned before the Dynasty took him. All that remained of the chrysanthemums was a brown dusty collection of tiny petals, and black stems jutting like rotted bones out of a vessel long empty of water. The room held the thin, ochre scent of disuse, but decay was long gone. And somewhere under the stillness of the rolled bedding, or the carefully folded robes in the still open chest, there hung a faint sweetness, as of cherry blossoms or velvet throated orchids.

It was not enough to just close his good eye, the feel of the room and its last occupant permeated his senses, memories overlaid his vision so thickly that he feared his powers would play them out in illusion. That corner, him kneeling there, in a yellow silk robe with orange fluttering leaves, one shoulder of the kimono drooping down to his elbow, bare shoulder concealed in a crimson rush of hair. He was writing something, chewing meditatively on the end of his bamboo brush, a smudge of ink marring the back of one long fingered hand. He had looked up, and seen Dais there in the doorway...

"By the gods," Kail mumbled in faint awe, as Dais jerked himself out of his thoughts, violet eye narrowing. "I knew you thought he was sweet to fuck... I never dreamed that you loved him."

"You always were an idiot, Kail." Dais snapped. "You couldn't recognize your own balls if they were cut off and waved in front of you."

Kail grinned, not fazed in the least. Being called an assortment of disparaging terms over a few centuries with Talpa had taken the edge off quite a bit. "Or that you still do. I really don't believe I've ever seen you this upset."

Dais clenched his fist, nails biting into his palm. Kail yawned into his hand. "I wouldn't. You know what She did last time she found out we fought each other."

Dais went sullenly still, glowering like dampened coals.

"Besides-" Kail gestured absently as he turned to leave the chamber, "If you still want him so badly, you could always make a copy for yourself, couldn't you?"

Dais stared after him in mild shock. Could he let himself fall for an illusion? If only for a few hours.. It was a simple enough shape to conjure... no mass quantities of people, no delicate web of traps...

"I believe we left off at your move." Anubis settled himself in front of the go board, flicking away a russet petal that had fallen on the playing area from the bowl of fresh-cut chrysanthemums. "Are you well?" Anubis blinked up at Dais in puzzlement. "You've barely touched your tea. Is that uprising still bothering you? We shan't hear more from them, I promise that. Now, it WAS your turn- wasn't it?" Anubis carefully shifted a piece that had scooted away from its assigned spot.

The memory was like some kind of amber, preserved like a spider suspended in hardened liquid gold. The illusion had appeared without Dais's permission or choosing, and he did not care. He could remember the day exactly.. Long before the Ronin Warriors, when they were simply the Dynasty's peacekeepers. Already though, the conversation differed from his recollection of it. It was a new thing, forged out of remelted steel and antique emeralds. "Anubis?"

"Hm?" Laugher hovered in the green eyes. They'd laughed more then.. not yet feeling the chains of immortality. "Come now, Dais, you look like you've seen a ghost. But I'm not, see?" The youngest warlord raised his leg and waved white-socked toes at Dais. "I have feet. Now, sit down and play already- so I can beat you again."

Dais settled himself carefully to the mat across the small table, and turned his cup of tea in his hands. 'Anubis... What did we do yesterday?"

"Getting senile in your old age?" Anubis smiled over the rim of his teacup. "We rode out to make sure that Dala paid his tribute properly, and then came back.. Kail tried to teach Sekhmet the flip kick he so admires, and wound up going through a door.. we walked by the canals.. you remember, don't you?"

Dais remembered the canal bridges and what went on underneath them... but not the trip to Dala's domain or the anecdote about the kick. Oh, he recalled them now, but not before Anubis had mentioned them. And Dais's illusions could only know what he knew on the surface of his mind. If he could not remember, then his creation could not have...

"Are you ill?" Anubis had scooted over, brushing a hand against Dais's cheek.

"You're all startled looking... what is it? A bad dream? If you've had a vision, you must tell Talpa about it..."

"No, no vision... just-" Dais stopped. Anubis had looked so YOUNG then...how had he forgotten? The hard edge of greed and hate was in him but it was untempered; it had not consumed him yet.

"What then?" Anubis lifted an eyebrow, one hand sliding into the neck of Dais's kimono. "I think you might be fevered... let me see... "

Dais shivered, having forgotten how readily Anubis had power over him in those days. Warm damp breath hit his neck through his soft white hair, as a mouth moved over his skin.

"Very ill I'm afraid... and only one cure... " Anubis was a living warm weight against him, the faint scent of his hair flared in Dais's nostrils, like the rush of heat as a cool hand slid past the tie of his hakama. " Worse than I feared..."

Anubis gave him a flash of a smile before he kissed the other warlord, one hand tugging Dais's kimono open. It was soon after the first time; Dais recalled his urgency then. But this had never happened; he had a memory of the setting, but not these events. His illusion was no longer his, and it alarmed him. He also didn't care, and it was intoxicating.

He knew so well the knots Anubis tied his sash in, knew which end to tug that would let the whole garment fall open for him. His hands moved without instruction, pulling away magenta silk folds and letting a slender creature emerge. Anubis pushed away fabric impatiently; his red hair spilled like fresh blood over Dais's white thighs. "I still scream, master." wet hungry heat briefly enfolded Dais, making him clench his teeth. "I am untrained... instruct me?"

Dais lifted his hips. "Solicit me properly. I will consider it."

Anubis's tongue flashed over his lips, and he bowed and asked with all due courtesy.

Dais leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling as his lover worked over his sex, drawing him in slowly and hungrily, until Dais forgot that it was a dream.

"Inside."

One deft finger sought, found, and entered. A trickle of blood escaped the lip caught between Dais's teeth. His body arched above the undone shelter of his clothing, letting himself be taken just so close...

"Enough."

Anubis withdrew and knelt: an ivory colored shadow on the tatami. For a moment Dais's breath caught. He had been so beautiful and wild, so far from the name of Cruelty he grew into all too soon- all of them were. Was it a dream of his? Or could he truly recall a time when there were no internal battles between them, no struggles for the highest in their master's favor, only a sense of camradiere. He wasn't sure anymore. True, since Talpa had gone some of that sense had returned, having Kyra as their Lord was surely a better lot that they had ever known previously. And they could never rule themselves as the Ronins did. It was not in their virtues. They were made to follow...

"Dais? What are you thinking?" Anubis seemed puzzled by the Warlord's hesitation. "Do I displease you?"

There had come a time not soon after that when Anubis couldn't care less if he displeased Dais, he answered to only Talpa. Dais leaned forward to catch Anubis's chin in pale hands, looking at the face that regarded him unswervingly.

How long it had been since he had met that gaze? "I never got to bid you farewell," He murmured.

Anubis blinked in confusion. "Dais... what are you talking about? You seem to have been somewhere else all afternoon." Anubis appeared concerned this time.

Dais merely shook his head, stroking Anubis's cheek. "No young one, just thoughtful. Think not on it." His hands ruffled the soft hair, feeling it slide through his fingers. Anubis leaned into the touch like a trained cat. He would not beg, but he caught one of Dais's fingers in his teeth and slyed a glance at the older man.

Dais knew all too well the intense seductive power of his own creations. He had every right, he reasoned, to enjoy them to their limits.

"Down."

Anubis lay back against the cushion of his open robe; his legs sprawled easily on the expanse of magenta silk. Dais crept over him, kissing sleek spread thighs, reaching up to push the other warrior open a little more, exposing him further. Anubis sighed, shifting his legs, lifting himself as Dais slid both hands underneath him.

"Show me."

Anubis tucked his legs up, practically folding himself double, hiding nothing. His breath quickened as Dais began to touch him, taking more time than usual to memorize his lover's body, petting with surprisingly gentle fingers. At last he rose and rummaged in a drawer of Anubis's small apocathary chest. Anubis knew better than to move, holding himself motionless as Dais poured oil into his palm, and knelt down again. Anubis forced himself still; that was the trick of it, to go as long as he could and show no reaction. It was a true training technique; it helped resist pain or giving into torture. The benefit was also that Dais would always make him scream no matter what, just that the stronger Anubis got the more creative his lover became.

Warm liquid trickled over his exposed entrance as Dais let the oil spill from his hand, then caught it and worked it into him. Slender digits invaded him, first one swirling into his heat, then two, then three delving deep and stroking everything good inside him. Anubis's teeth clenched, his muscles trembled slightly, but he made no sound. A hot mouth closed over his shaft, skilled tongue tugging and shaping as the fingers pressed deeper.

Anubis made a faint groan through his closed jaw, but that did not quite count. The mouth abandoned his sex and he whimpered, knowing what was next.

"Stand up."

This was tricky; Dais did not take his hand away, and Anubis managed to gain his feet while still filled by undulating fingers.

"The wall. "

Anubis walked very carefully to the wall, and rested his hands against the teakwood between lacquered panels. Dais adjusted the angle of his hips, pulling them out a little more, pushing his legs further apart, and getting just the proper height.

"Good."

Anubis let out a relived sound, even as hot kisses scorched him between his shoulderblades and along the back of his neck, fingers leaving him one at a time until there was only one, then none. He waited, expecting to be taken, but it did not happen.

"Stay there, and don't move. I want to look at you." Dais fastidiously washed his hands in a jeweled basin, and then poured some tea, waiting.

Anubis worked the wallframe in a damp grip, his breath too fast. He forced himself to slow it, but his heart still thundered. It was terrible not to be able to turn his head, not to see what Dais was doing. All he could see was a section of coiled dragonscales in the lacquerwork before him.

Dais concentrated on not spilling his steaming tea. He was wearing nothing, and it would not have been a pleasing experience. He set the iron teapot back on the brazier and admired the view in front of him. Anubis had a few scars from his mortal battles; now it took truly magical wounds to leave marks on their bodies permanently. But there were a few on his lover's trembling form: one curving up his thigh and slightly onto the top of his buttock, another arching down from his opposite shoulder to the middle of his back.

Anubis switched his hips slightly.

"You're moving."

He froze.

Dais slid his fingers lazily down his stomach, running them gently over himself. To be inside that sweet intensity again, that's what he wanted... and Anubis had been very patient. He rose, padding softly over behind him. Anubis thrust his hips out even more as Dais approached, and the warlord of illusion smiled, a gleam in the eye not covered by the spiderweb patch. "You want this..." He trailed a finger down Anubis's spine, all the way between his spread thighs. "Don't you."

"Yes, Dais." The tremor in his voice was truth enough. Dais placed his hands firmly on Anubis's hipbone.

"Ask me." Dais paused, something strange fluttering in his throat, making it hard to speak suddenly. "I... would like for you to ask me."

Anubis tilted his head inquisitively, then played along. "Please take me."

Dais gave his answer in a slow sweet violation. Anubis hissed, tossing his head, already bucking against the taking. Dais murmured a command, and the section of wall became black and reflective, giving Anubis a blurred image of himself. He gasped aloud as a strong grip engulfed him, Dais shoving in relentlessly, forcing him as wide as possible while working his sex in his palm.

Anubis panted, taking his strength to keep his knees from buckling, to keep his body held so that Dais could enter him completely, pushing in over and over while watching Anubis react in the mirrored section of wall.

Dais nosed aside damp crimson hair, biting the back of Anubis's neck and forcing into him at such an angle that the other warlord was lifted nearly off his feet. His hand worked over him knowingly.

Anubis screamed. White spattered onto black lacquer as his body constricted, Dais letting out a slow growl as a year's worth of held-in desire cumulated in a hot rush. Anubis whimpered slightly as Dais emptied himself into him, both of them going to their knees onto the woven mat.

Several breathless moments passed, and Anubis shook his head slightly. "Forgive me, my lord.. I still require training."

His smile was brighter than the twin suns of the Dynasty.

The room lay quiet and dark as moonlight flowed into it, the strange purple night of the Dynasty confusing tactile and illusionary truths. Dust hushed the objects in it; one of them huddled on the floor by a bowl of dead flowers. He moved, suddenly not part of the room anymore but an alien, in the wrong place, alive in a chamber of stillness.

Standing, Dais looked once more around the room, his good eye shining with more brightness than it should.

"Sayonara."

The ricepaper door slid shut behind him, filling the room with quiet once more.

One shadow shook itself from the wall, staring out into the night with gleaming green eyes.

"Dais. You twist illusion to suit you, but you always dismissed the wonder of reality." He smiled, making a gesture with one hand before melting away into Elsewhere.

The scythed moon of the Dynasty spilled cold light on a black bowl filled with fresh, crimson chrysanthemums.