He had thought this unsettling new awareness of Feynriel would pass, but as the days went by, it grew stronger if anything. No longer was he able to see him without wondering what he was thinking; without wondering what it was like, to be tranquil, to be without normal emotion. To have been someone powerful, a mage, and now to be so powerless. He studied Feynriel's face, endlessly, any time they were together, looking for some sign of what was going on inside his head.
Feynriel could not have feelings of like or dislike about something any more... but might he still have preferences? Favourite foods, perhaps, based on what tasted best, what had the most enjoyable texture or flavour, smell or colour? The tranquil certainly felt pain and pleasure – and he had spoken of things that had goodness to them, seeming connected to pleasant physical sensation, which implied the reciprocal, that there were things that were bad.
He began giving Feynriel more choices in the occasional chores assigned to him, and asked his opinion, from time to time, about what Keran should make for supper, or whether raspberry or strawberry jam was tastier on their morning toast, whether they should bathe that night or wait until the next day. He quickly noticed that, yes, Feynriel did have preferences; he liked ham more than dried beef, and liked dishes that were well-seasoned, but was not as interested in ones that were spicy-hot. He wasn't fond of turnips or parsnips, though he ate them without complaint. He preferred honey over any jam, and the strong-flavoured buckwheat honey best of all. He liked being clean – he bathed as often as Keran was willing to allow the time and wood to fill and fire the boiler.
When Keran cautiously offered him a massage after their bath one night – more than a touch worried about his own motivations in doing so – the tranquil accepted quickly, without the pause for thought he sometimes went through before answering questions. Keran supposed that was a sign that Feynriel liked massages, and when he worked up the nerve to ask, Feynriel simply nodded, and said "Being massaged is a goodness, even when I am not sore." So Keran decided it must fall into the category of things that the tranquil derived some level of physical pleasure from, which made sense – Keran certainly liked massages himself. It did make him hesitate over whether or not to offer them again, and yet... he'd found it soothing too, back when he was giving them to the tranquil every night, when they were spending their days so frantically gathering wood. In the end he let it become a part of their regular routine again, thinking that something they both derived relaxation and enjoyment from couldn't be entirely wrong.
On definite lack he noticed; Feynriel didn't seem to notice anything to do with temperature, unless he grew cold enough to start shivering, or warm enough to begin sweating. If told to go do something outside, he wouldn't necessarily think to dress warmly first. That puzzled Keran for a while – surely being cold wasn't enjoyable? After trying to get a sensible explanation out of Feynriel, he finally tried doing it himself – and it actually was rather nice for the first few minutes, the cold outside air pleasantly cooling on fire-warmed skin. After that he was doubly careful to always make sure to tell Feynriel to dress warmly before going outside, and kept a close eye on him while they were out. He wouldn't want the tranquil getting frostbite or anything like that.
As far as he could tell, things that would bother a normal human due to them being mildy uncomfortable or irritating in some way just... didn't register, with tranquil. Or perhaps not so much that they didn't register, as that they registered it differently – like how having his hair in his face didn't bother Feynriel, when it would have driven Keran mad, as he recalled all-too-well from the time in his youth when he'd briefly experimented with longer hair. Pain might be something Feynriel noticed and avoided, and he certainly flinched away from a too-hot pot handle exactly the way anyone else would have, but minor irritants... just didn't irritate. Perhaps that was it – that the mental feeling of irritation wasn't there, even though the minor physical sensation that would have triggered it still was.
He found himself thinking about the tranquil – in general, not just about Feynriel – more than he ever had in his life before. And Feynriel himself... well, the man was never far from his thoughts. Not any more. He felt aware of him all the time, when before he had faded into the background so easily.
And more than once, Keran found himself remembering that morning they'd woken up together, the feel of his hand on Feynriel, the sounds the tranquil had made as he took pleasure from Keran's touch. Of Feynriel's easy assurance that this was something the tranquil regularly indulged in among themselves, giving and receiving pleasure from each other. Which implied a far greater degree of free will among the tranquil than Keran had ever known they were capable of; would ever have truly believed, without the evidence of his own experiences. And, too, it disturbed him to face the realization that the tranquil were not just beings, but sexual beings. He had assumed that any physical relationship a tranquil might have would be something forced upon them, and yet... if they were capable of making the choice to enjoy sexual activities among themselves, didn't that imply they were equally capable of making the choice to have a physical relationship with a non-tranquil partner?
He tried not to consider that point too closely; it made him feel deeply uncomfortable. He also tried not to dwell on just why it made him feel uncomfortable, with only limited success. But, he knew, even if he didn't want to admit it, was that since he'd stopped seeing Feynriel as just "the tranquil" and started seeing him another being, a man... that he couldn't help thinking of him as an attractive man. Because he was attractive, with just the sort of slender good looks that Keran would have gone for if he'd popped in at the Blooming Rose one evening and wanted to take a rare trip on the other side of the bedsheets than his usual.
Waking up one morning to the quiet sounds of Feynriel pleasuring himself didn't help his peace of mind any. It just gave his imagination further fuel. And made him even more conscious of Feynriel's presence, any time the two of them were together, which was a good part of each day, snowed in as they were.