Extinct Instincts (MxM)

1: It Itches at First

   He walked down a dirty alley like normal, scratching his arms furiously. Pain soon makes him stop, but the itching persists, making him whine.
   The tattered little figure stops at the dark pathway's edge. Beyond it, a busy street full of happy lores frolic about as part of thier every-day lives.
   That one, the tall horned one, was too dangerous. Bovine types were fast as well as strong.
   The human looking woman was a maybe. Could be a witch or disguised fey.
   The short ones were probably best. Gnomes, dwarves, and leprechauns always carried valuables. Unfortunately he could hardly tell them apart from hobbits, sprites, pixies or hybrids. All of them liked to travel in groups as well.
   He waited, watching very closely.
   There. A lone little folk, or at least lagging behind his party.
   The figure dashed out of his alley, not directly towards the lore, but at an angle to make it seem as if he was just im a hurry to get somewhere, only to veer at the last second. His shoulder slams the being who stands only a couple of inches taller than his pre-pubescent self, and both half grab each other to stop from toppling over. Before the little race person could even get 2 words out, the boy was dashing off again, having in the blink of an eye, neatly cleaned the pocket of his target.
   He only slows when he ducks into a new, even darker alley. He looks into his clutched palm. A small pouch bulging with coin. Score! Must have been a leprechaun or fey to have this much.
   Ouch. He grasps his arms in discomfort. The outsides of his arms all around his elbos kept burning. But this new pain was like something had been pulled off of his skin. In the back of his mind he wondered if he had finally caught some pestilence from his home in the sewer. He tucks the pouch away carefully and makes his way towards his favorite spot.
   The theatre.

   Gibsy was quite upset. The brat had robbed him! This city was supposed to be safe during daylight hours, damnit! His brothers were still laughing at him too.
   They arrive at the appraiser. His oldest brother pulled out what they came to have checked, a lovely gold vase procured from the human world. It was from an old ruin, so humans wouldn't miss it. They were there for a few minutes while the hobgoblins in the back checked it over, but the imp at the reception desk was troubling him.
   He kept staring at Gibsy! The leprechaun scowled, wondering if there was some air of wrongness about him because he had no gold on him at the exact moment. His brothers at last noticed the staring too. The eldest, Rogar, notices something the other brothers didn't.
   "Gibsy, come here. What's that caught on your sleeve?" The little man turned his arm. A... Feather? Odd. How shiny it was! He carefully removed the tiny thing from his sleeve, to jump as the receptionist suddenly loomed above him. Imps were quite tall, especially compared to little folk.
   "May I look more closely?" He says silkily, likely his voice being what landed the creature this job.
   Frowning, Gibsy handed it over. Huge eyes go up and down the plumage that is the size of the leprechaun's pinky.
   The imp then turned and dashed towards the back, leaving the brothers all baffled.

   "Sire. Amazing news!" The shout echos in a dark chamber. Bleery eyes opened and grimaced in annoyance.
   "If it's not urgent, it AUGHT to be able to wait until I'm f*cking awake!" The voice adressed in the dark snarled. There was a click, and light filled a dazzling bedroom. At its center is a large circular bed, embedded into the floor rather than raised off of it. On the bed lounged a goliath sized being. Silver with black stripes adorned a tail several meters long, and black hair fell over a human torso. He glared at the servent who bowed at his door.
   "Pardon sire. But something incredible has been found." He. Comes forward and kneels, offering something.
   King Xavier takes it. A feather. Ah, from a harpy.
   "Are you so stupid as to think this is urgent? I've already proclaimed that harpy feathers are to be considered contraband, and anyone found with them is to be arrested."
   The servent grinned easily. Him being a lower naga himself, even compact into his human form, made him more able than most in dealing with the grouchy monarch.
   "If you would look closely at the quill sire." He said simply.
   The king does. The feather is still fluffy at the bottom towards the spine, obviously plucked from a pitifully young individual, but considering it must be over a decade old, it was well.... Presurved.
   No. That was soft tissue, skin, still attached to the spine of the feather.

   This feather came off of a harpy..... Very recently.