The Vaesteri family was among Milirevi's most important families. For generations, they've put their sorcerous prowess at service of the city and in the name of the Daliath religion. Their contributions were so notorious that they earned multiple awards and titles for it. Including the Dal-kanan-Dal (the blessing that multiples blessings), an honor granted to a single digit of families around the known worlds. The family ran a temple that was large, beautiful, a historical landmark, and a shelter to those in need.
And need a shelter he does, if only for a little while. He's been running since he realised he could escape his last master, and he just needs to stop, take stock, and figure out what his next move is. He keeps his head low, trying to avoid notice, looking for somewhere he can just...be. And preferably avoid other people - safe or not, he doesn't want to have to fight here, or do anything else, but he will. If he has to.
He finds himself in a large mess hall. There are people milling about... some are fully-augmented, but those are all sitting at a table by themselves.
Near the door there are three indentical boys that look his age, two of them notice him coming in and take a step towards him. The one with a clipboard smiles a friendly smile and asks. "Hello, welcome to the Vaesteri Daliath Temple. Are you seeking help and assistance?" the words sound memorized and his speech is understandable but accented.
He hesitates before he responds, judges the best response. (He's looking for a threat, looking to see what they want.) "Just a place to rest for a while, sir," he replies, keeping his eyes lowered.
He speaks in a very soft, soothing voice. "We can certainly help with that. Come in. What's your name? I'm Feliaris Vaesteri."
"They call me Parafi, sir," he states. (And waits, because he knows what that means, what the implications are, and more than one person took that as an implicit offer, when all it was was an answer.)
He blinks. "Pa-ra-fi? he repeats slowly.
The other triplet glances his way. "I'm pretty sure that's the word for 'bed warmer'."
The triplet that wasn't looking his way turns around. "Also, the slang for cheap prostitute."
Well. There went the hope of them not knowing the language well enough. Still.
"It's accurate enough," he says smoothly, shifting ever so slightly, and there's definitely an inviting and suggestive tone to his words.
"Ha..." the sound is so insincere and awkward that he doesn't even bother with a second 'ha".
"Well, my dude, we are not interested. So, sorry, but not sorry."
He lowers his gaze again. Murmurs something that might be 'you'd be the first', and doesn't seem quite sure what to do next. (He doesn't really want to have to fight anyone right now, he just wants to rest.)
"Anyway," He says like he is trying to erase the last minute. "Why don't you come inside and we can find you a place?"
Okay, he can still follow an order - even if it isn't exactly worded as one - and he nods slightly. "-yes sir."
Good. Feliaris walks inside while his brothers stay by the door. "Have you ever sought shelter in a place like this? Do you know the procedure?"
He shakes his head. "Sorry, sir, no."
"It's okay. I will walk through it."
They approach a desk with a young man. He gives Feliaris a barely disguised look of disapproval. "What can I help you, young Vaesteri?"
"Uh, just Feliaris. Where are the forms for admission? I need one for Parafi here."
"Sure," the man says with a snort, "just be sure to get his actual name."
He clenches his fist, because okay, it's not much of a name, but it's the only one he ever remembers having.
"And if that is my real name, sir?" he asks, low, intent, and just the tiniest bit arch. (He almost offers to show this man why it's his name, but...)
The man's face falls. "Uh... that's... I'm sorry for what your parents did that to you."
Feliaris is slightly interposing himself between the two. He rest a hand on Parafi's shoulder. "That's enough," he says looking at the other man.
...He has no idea how to respond to that apology.
The hand on his shoulder, however, gains a burst of heat, a warning, not an actual attack. (Not yet, but threatening to turn into one.)
Instead of heating up, the hand is covered in a bubble of force that throws it away from the shoulder. Feliaris is confused. The other man jumps up and his chair fall to the ground. "...Oh, I'm sorry."
Parafi flinches, as the hand is thrown from his shoulder, and the chair falls to the ground. He doesn't want to fight, but-
But he will if he has to. He just wants to be left alone. (It's not really a conscious thought or effort that has flames lighting around his hands.)
"I just want to rest," he says, and he doesn't sound combative, he sounds exhausted, and lost.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have touched you. Look, why don't you put the fire out and I will help you find somewhere to stay?"
There's a moment where it doesn't look like he's going to, where he stands, breathing too fast. And then the flames flicker out, Parafi watching Feliaris suspiciously, like this might be a trick.
Feliaris relaxes a bit. He offers a chair for Parafi to sit.
(The other guy sneaked away.)