Fade Rift - InBox

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Notes. Letters. Crystals. Angry Missives To Give Back Socks. Y'know.

Comments

[writteninblood]

I don't care for your tone, ser. Are you implying that my Adasse is anything less than perfect?

[He's going to punch you in the face, right on the mouth. Using his mouth. It's a very specialized kind of punching.]

Those, are fighting words.

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

I am implying, serah, that your Adasse is the most brilliant pickpocket in all of Kirkwall. Not precisely worthy of a Dalish Prince, m'dear.

[Oh, you just go right ahead and try. He'll hold you down and punch you right back with his mouth. Preferably on the floor where he can straddle you and punch your entire body with his mouth.]

[writteninblood]

[Sorrel snorts, pure derision-- and for real, this time]

Dalish exile, more like. [Self-exile? Whatever.] And I'll have you know, Adasse is the best man I know, of any kind. It takes more than just quick hands to reach down and pull someone out of the dark, when everyone else is content not to look at all, let alone see that someone. Bloodlines and princedoms are all well and good, but they don't actually matter, in the end.

Not the way you matter, to me.

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Princes can be in exile, you know. Or haven't you heard about Prince Sebastian the Stick In The Mud?

[An easy drawl, before he feels himself soften. You can't see that blush on his pointed ears, Sorrel, but it's definitely there.]

...well, I think that's the important bit, right there. Only one worth thinking about.

[writteninblood]

Sorry, was that too much?

[Sorrel huffs, somewhere between a sheepish sigh and a laugh, though mostly at his own expense.]

I miss you.

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

I miss you too ... where are you anyways, love?

[writteninblood]

I'm in the storage room, down the way from the office they gave us. I love Pel like another, much meaner sister, but organizing this mess was not her priority.

[Or anyone's, apparantly.]

So I'm helping.

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

So ... I'll see you in a couple of years then.

[Deadpan amusement.]

Lemme know when you want to stick your head up for some air. We'll grab dinner.

[writteninblood]

You're allowed to come in and help me!

[Now he's really laughing. Good work, Adasse]

The dust of a thousand years disturbed by a bunch of inquisition shems isn't going to bite. And if anyone was going to get blighted or cursed, it would have already happened.

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Oh you want me to help you sort all the dusty shem things? Gee love, I never knew you cared.

[But this is the sound of him getting up and moving towards the door, so he does adore you.]

That is not a ringing endorsement.

[writteninblood]

I'll have you know, first of all, these are dusty elf things. The shems just stole it from ruins and things.

[He drops his voice in a mimic of just such a human, affecting a broad west-ferelden accent to go with it]

Oim in these spooky ruins and this loks like some kind of elf thing, better swipe it for the inqusition and then they probably pee on a statue of Mythal or something, because why wouldn't they?

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

So you want me to handle delicate old relics of our people, that the shems have peed on. Again, not a ringing endorsement here, darling. If nothing else I feel like we need to disinfect them for posterity.

[writteninblood]

If you don't want to help, then you could always just pretend to be helping and then steal me away to-- wait, did you say dinner?

[It's not that late. Is it?]

...what happened to lunch?

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Oh right, you're not on a thief's schedule ... yeah, it's lunch-time. I will probably catch a few hours sleep after and then head out to hit my contacts and other, ah, interested parties. Also, I have to go mapping in the morning.

[writteninblood]

For a minute there, I was worried I'd missed a meal.

[Sorrel thinks for a moment, then there's a decisive sort of thunk as he puts down whatever it is he's been sorting through.]

I don't need to keep doing this now. And I am hungry.

[And if he puts Adasse off, he won't see him again for longer than he'd like.]

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Well ... then I am guessing it is time to get some food.

[His smile brightens through the crystal.]

So we can get that belly filled.

[That's not as much true.]

[writteninblood]

Is that all you're planning?

[He can hear that smile, messere]

After all that talk?

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Why Serah Sorrel, are you saying that you want me to seduce you away from your work?

[Cheeeeeekiest.]

Glad to oblige!

[writteninblood]

This is seduction? I've always wondered.

[You ridiculous tease.]

Who knew it had more to do with ham sandwiches than romantic swooning. Be still my heart.

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Ohhhhh darlin' ...

[And now, he'll just pitch his voice that tone lower.]

Trust me, I can make even ham sandwiches have the right kind of effect on you.

[writteninblood]

[Sorrel laughs before he can stop himself, burying his face in his hands with mixed dismay and delight.]

That's the worst! Don't-- don't do that! [Why is he in love with the world's most ridiculous elf.] This is horrible. I am officially un-seduced!

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

[Adasse grins at the crystal - it is good to hear his lover laugh like this - before he puts on a mock-offended tone.]

Are you saying that ham sandwiches aren't dashing enough for you? Humph! Humph, I say!

[writteninblood]

The only Ham I find dashing is the one apparently named Adasse!

[You sir, are the worst!!!]

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Some of us are just naturally fantastic, Sorrel. Do not judge us because we are beautiful and dashing and can make an entrance.

[Sniiiff.]

[writteninblood]

[Sorrel mutters something just barely audible as ham-tastic.']

...And just when is the fantastic Adasse going to actually make his entrance, I wonder? Maybe I ought to categorize a few more of these old carvings while I wait.