[Adasse gives Sorrel a sharp look, and immediately pulls him out of Inquisition foot-traffic and into a side-hallway. He pushes his lover up against the wall and pressed his entire body against Sorrel's. Grounding him in the here, and now.
He pressed his mouth against Sorrel's forehead, whispering softly.]
I got you, Sorrel. I got you. No one is going to hurt you. You're safe.
[Sorrel's protest is merely token; he closes his eyes and lets himself be manhandled, be pressed in and held. He remembers to breathe, inhaling only the sweat-smell and sea-air salt lingering around Adasse from his Gallows climb. Eventually, he's able to let go of Adasse's hand enough to hold him around the waist, clinging like a child while the nonsense syllables flow over him, assuring him that he's safe, and loved, and protected.]
Sorry. [He can't help it, he's embarrassed, and can barely explain why. It somehow seems vital that Adasse not see him as this whimpering, pathetic thing.] I. I don't know why this is happening.
[He keeps holding on tightly, until Sorrel seems to come back to himself. He leans back enough to look at Sorrel, concern washed over his face. All thoughts of that idiotic shem are gone, as he takes in his lover's face. One hand lifting, to slid along his painted cheek.]
There's nothing to apologize for ... I'm just worried, is all. You don't usually panic like that.
[Sorrel had said it without even thinking, and for a moment the importance of the question doesn't occur to him. Then, realizing his mistake, he stiffens, and his head comes up; a new kind of panic.]
I... [Oh good, guilty panic. Now he doesn't know if he wants to run away or hide forever against Adasse's shoulder where no one, not even his boyfriend, can see him.] ...I never told...
[For just a moment, Sorrel hovers on the edge of just breaking down in tears. Crying would be the easiest thing in the world right now. He's suddenly desperate that Adasse understand, that he understand and not hate him for it, and the explanation be enough.]
...I'm a coward. [This admission pulled out of him in a rush of black blood, like lancing a septic wound.] I—I'll tell you. Not here.
[A frown creased the corners of Adasse's dark eyes, but concern outweighed confusion here, so he nodded his head slowly. ]
All right, love, where do you want to go?
[He'll follow Sorrel anywhere. Heck, he followed him to Dalish High Meetings. Whatever this is, couldn't be nearly as bad as all that.] By the by, not believing you're a coward either. I'll let you explain, though.
Back to bed. [He blurts it automatically, halfway a joke, and half biter truth. Back to fucking bed, and pretend this day never happened.] Back to bed really, actually.
[It's not a bad thought; the covers and quilts, Coco's things, Sorrel's staff propped on the corner and the too-many pillows sourced from who-knows-where. Sorrel's longing for that safe haven is sudden and fierce. He takes Adasse's hand and the walk there seems to take no time at all. He'd passed the whole long walk up the gallows in a haze, and once needed to stop at the top of a stair and simply lean on Adasse and breathe a moment, fighting back nausea. It shouldn't be this damned tiring, just walking, and feeling things. It isn't fair.]
Well. So...
[Of course, now that they're here, safe and private in their cozy little bedroom, the weariness abandons him and it seems imperetive to find some way to delay fulfilling his promise. Sorrel picks up a discarded shirt, fussily folds it into a square, puts it down again, and eventually just sits on the bed. He's a picture of nervous anxiety.]
... I... I wasn't always. Going to be a mage. You know?
[Adasse wasn't sure what he expected but - well - all right. Dragged back to their room, with their clothes and Coco and Sorrel's staff along with Adasse's desk covered in books and sewing projects. He himself goes to check on Coco - still zonked out napping by the window - and makes sure he has food and water before he heads over to the bed. He drops himself down in front of Sorrel, dark eyes narrowing.
A faint smile.]
Not sure if anyone plans on being a mage, Sorrel. I figure that's something most are just born to.
No, what I meant is... Most people get their magic as kids. Pel showed magic when she was barely walking, Ellana not so much later. Sina was the same. I... I was already a hunter. We were eleven summers, nearly twelve, and Beleth and I used to do patrols...
[Sorrel doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands, and eventually settles on twisting the hem of his shirt into increasingly damage-worthy knots.]
...I've never had good control. The Keeper always said that some people are just naturally weaker or stronger than others. That it just meant I had to try harder. I do try. But it takes... a lot of work. [Lazy. Selfish. Weak. You only hesitate because of your fear; of yourself, your magic, your worth realized. Coward.] So, even after I did get my magic...
[The shirt twists and untwists in his hands, wrinkling the fabric.]
...There was this. Ambush. Sometimes, it's like that, slavers or bandits or someone from a village tries to... to take down a few Dalish scouts. Scare us off. It usually works, to tell the truth; not much to gain in a fight like that. But, you know. A bunch of big, angry shem'len, coming at you from nowhere, it's frightening enough.
[Adasse nodded his head slowly - he remembered what it was like to be a small elven boy, surrounded by shems. He didn't even have a sister, a clan to protect him then. He just had himself, and that hadn't been enough. He touched his shoulder, where under his shirt was a tip of his tattoo, his brown eyes serious.]
Did they hurt you? [He asked soberly and quietly. He would never be angry at Sorrel, or ashamed of him if he had gotten hurt.]
[Sorrel picks his head up and blinks dumbly at Adasse. He might be utterly besotted and terribly biased in Sorrel's favor, but even he can't have missed the scar, running from the corner of Sorrel's mouth almost the entire distance to one ear.
He swallows hard, and looks away, visibly struggling with words. Had they hurt him? He gestures vaguely at his face, at the scar running just parallel to the line of white vallaslin.]
Tore my whole face open.
[And then, he looked away, unable to maintain the honesty of it, too open, too vulnerable. Coward.]
Got me on the ground. I don't know what his plan was, waving around a knife that big, but I wasn't exactly sitting still for it. I don't remember exactly how it happened, because something hit me in the head and there was this terrible noise, then Beleth was there. And I was just... just trying to hold my face together. [His hand comes up in sympathy with the memory.] I couldn't seem to make the magic obey, couldn't figure out how fire, or healing, or anything worked. I panicked. I always panic. I'm a coward.
[Well yes, he had seen the scar -- but considering the jagged edges he had assumed it was some animal ... but then again, it was an enraged human, so it was the same thing. His jaw works tightly, before he exhaled slowly.
He held out his hands, so Sorrel could take them or keep them to himself, but it wasn't going to stop Adasse from speaking.]
So like anyone normal child, when you got attacked by someone three times your size, you froze in fear. I don't think that makes you a coward, Sorrel. I think that makes you someone understands fear -- and that is not a bad thing. It means you're careful, and thoughtful, and frankly considering how much of an impulsive bastard I am ... one of us has to have their head on their shoulders.
[This with the ironclad ring of Inarguable Truth; she's smarter, and wiser, and more knowledgeable too. She even gets along better with everyone. Life would have been much more graceful if she had been the one born to magic and he'd have been little more than a not particularly notable hunter, and a scout among many.
Adasse's hands hang there, just beside Sorrel's knees. He doesn't take his hand so much as just let his own rest inside Adasse's open palm.]
No, you're not supposed to try and make this sound like a good thing, don't make excuses for... [Is he whining? It sounds like whining.] ...You're being ridiculous. And I can not be the voice of reason! We're all going to die, if I'm somehow the steady one.
That I will argue to the day I die. She's the one who keeps falling for humans.
[Over and over and over again ...sheesh.
Besides, she has nothing on the knowledge that Sorrel keeps locked away in himself; the legends, the histories, all the important things about their People. He folded his fingers around those limp hands, gives them a squeeze.]
What do you want me to say? 'Oh no, Sorrel, you're such a horrible chicken for fighting against a shem three times your size with a knife and being scared after he smacked you about the head.' That's ridiculous. So yeah, you're scared. Big whoop. I'm not scared of shems, and would you like to see all the scars I've got on my back again? That's what I get for being Brave and Stupid.
[He intertwines their fingers.] So maybe we meet in the middle, huh? More brave for you, more fear for me, so we Don't Die.
It's completely different! [Outrage is winning out over self-pity, one step at a time. Slowly, Sorrel is unwinding from his knot of anxious memory.] I'll show you what stupid looks like, I'm going to beat your stupid brave head in!
[And he will, too! Although, really the way he's going up on his knees to shove at Adasse in exasperation strangely enough seems to have more to do with putting him in the man's lap than actually doing any damage.]
If you ever go off and die without me, I'll kill you.
[Adasse let out an oof and a laugh, before he goes to grab at Sorrel's wrists playfully.] Oi now! Leave my stupid brave head out of this!
[A warm feeling presses into his chest then, and he pulls Sorrel into his lap.]
Promise?
Don't test me, I could probably learn to be a shitty necromancer in addition to being a mediocre healer. I'll get you back from the Beyond and yell at you, just see if I don't.
[Strong arms around his waist, balanced up on his knees, half-resting his weight on Adasse's thighs... Sorrel smiles, finally. And then he tips his head down to press their foreheads together, like a promise sealed.]
Don't die - but I don't like making promises I can't keep.
[His smile is there, but his eyes are a little sad, before he straightens. Looks more serious.]
How about this? I'll kill whomever tries to take me away breathing air, and away from you. I promise. Maker's Balls, I've been doing that from before we met -- it is absolutely a promise I can keep right down to the blades.
I trust you. [ gently, Sorrel cups Adasse's face in his hands, and kisses him. It's a soft, sweet kiss, going nowhere: Sorrel is already right where he most wants to be. ] and I love you.
So let's just both stay alive and try not to get any more scars, no matter how tragically handsome and rougish they make you seem. Alright?
...You know, your trust means the world to me. [He melts into that kiss, holding Sorrel against him. His dark eyes close with pleasure.] And I love you too.
[He opens his eyes, his gaze serious.] You've never asked me about my tragic and handsome scars, you know.
[The joke is misplaced, and he reddens a little to hear it fall with a flat, wet plonk. Sorrel sobers, then, and strokes his thumbs through the soft fuzz at Adasse's hairine.]
I always want to know everything about you. But I never want to hurt you, so I... I just waited. I thought, maybe you'll tell me when you're ready. You shouldn't have to tell me anything, it's alright. People should have secrets. [He's probably better liar to people who don't know him as well, or who aren't gazing directly into his eyes. He wants to know. He very, very much wants to know.] But, if we're talking now, and you are ready...
Oh, that I completely understand. That's why I keep being tragic and handsome at the same time.
[Adasse said, a half-smile on his face, before his expression also becomes sober. He strokes his finger along Sorrel's scar, before exhaling.]
I told you, I am Brave and Stupid. So when I was twelve ... I wasn't the great thief I am now. I was all right - but I was small. I got caught, trying to nick a purse off a nobleman. [He paused, then exhaled.] A nobleman who had a taste for elven children.
[Some small, petulant part of Sorrel wants to frown into the universe and ask, as plaintively as he can manage, How come none of your stories are any good. But the joke it, that reflexive deflection from dread, would likely not be welcome in the face of Adasse's remembered pain. So Sorrel only presses his mouth together and leans in again to pres close, a quiet message: I'm here.]
You've survived some terrible things, ma'nehn.
[It was easy to imagine that the term heartache was one made up for artistic effect, but the truth is that Sorrel's entire chest hurts, as if he'd been badly kicked by an unhappy Halla.]
I have. I will keep on surviving. It's my curse on the shem race.
[He ran his fingers through Sorrel's auburn hair, loving every strand of it, while he stated simply.]
The trick was - that the nobleman left me with his like-minded footman. And the like-minded footman was supposed to clean my gutter-snipe self up for his lordship's pleasure, but he wanted a taste first. After all, they'd already held me down and whipped me within an inch of my life, I couldn't have any more fight in me, right?
[He leaned in, and kissed those soft, understanding lips.]
At least he thought that until I shoved a three inch piece of metal through his gullet. People leave all kind of scrap, down by the harbor. I stabbed him again in the neck for good measure, and then I limped my way off. Fell right into the alienage. Some of the other elves there took me in, healed me up, and gave me food. Taught me two things, that.
[He leaned back, looking at Sorrel.] I'd never have anyone touch me, that I didn't want to ... and that even though I was the bravest and luckiest little elven boy that ever lived - I was a damned idiot. I had to teach myself to be careful, to stay back, to wait in the shadows and move only when it was ready. It's not easy - it's damned hard sometimes when I want to shove another piece of metal into a shem's gut for making my beloved feel less than he is. But I know ... I've got to be smart, if I want to live.
[He nuzzled another kiss into Sorrel's lips, murmuring.] 'Cuz I have something that I want to live for.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2018-10-17 01:38 pm (UTC)He pressed his mouth against Sorrel's forehead, whispering softly.]
I got you, Sorrel. I got you. No one is going to hurt you. You're safe.
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Date: 2018-10-17 10:35 pm (UTC)[Sorrel's protest is merely token; he closes his eyes and lets himself be manhandled, be pressed in and held. He remembers to breathe, inhaling only the sweat-smell and sea-air salt lingering around Adasse from his Gallows climb. Eventually, he's able to let go of Adasse's hand enough to hold him around the waist, clinging like a child while the nonsense syllables flow over him, assuring him that he's safe, and loved, and protected.]
Sorry. [He can't help it, he's embarrassed, and can barely explain why. It somehow seems vital that Adasse not see him as this whimpering, pathetic thing.] I. I don't know why this is happening.
[Not strictly the truth, but honest enough.]
It's not even the same.
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Date: 2018-10-18 02:46 am (UTC)There's nothing to apologize for ... I'm just worried, is all. You don't usually panic like that.
[A faint frown.]
Same as what, love?
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Date: 2018-10-18 03:05 am (UTC)I... [Oh good, guilty panic. Now he doesn't know if he wants to run away or hide forever against Adasse's shoulder where no one, not even his boyfriend, can see him.] ...I never told...
[For just a moment, Sorrel hovers on the edge of just breaking down in tears. Crying would be the easiest thing in the world right now. He's suddenly desperate that Adasse understand, that he understand and not hate him for it, and the explanation be enough.]
...I'm a coward. [This admission pulled out of him in a rush of black blood, like lancing a septic wound.] I—I'll tell you. Not here.
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Date: 2018-10-18 03:24 am (UTC)All right, love, where do you want to go?
[He'll follow Sorrel anywhere. Heck, he followed him to Dalish High Meetings. Whatever this is, couldn't be nearly as bad as all that.] By the by, not believing you're a coward either. I'll let you explain, though.
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Date: 2018-10-18 03:37 am (UTC)[It's not a bad thought; the covers and quilts, Coco's things, Sorrel's staff propped on the corner and the too-many pillows sourced from who-knows-where. Sorrel's longing for that safe haven is sudden and fierce. He takes Adasse's hand and the walk there seems to take no time at all. He'd passed the whole long walk up the gallows in a haze, and once needed to stop at the top of a stair and simply lean on Adasse and breathe a moment, fighting back nausea. It shouldn't be this damned tiring, just walking, and feeling things. It isn't fair.]
Well. So...
[Of course, now that they're here, safe and private in their cozy little bedroom, the weariness abandons him and it seems imperetive to find some way to delay fulfilling his promise. Sorrel picks up a discarded shirt, fussily folds it into a square, puts it down again, and eventually just sits on the bed. He's a picture of nervous anxiety.]
... I... I wasn't always. Going to be a mage. You know?
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Date: 2018-10-18 03:43 am (UTC)A faint smile.]
Not sure if anyone plans on being a mage, Sorrel. I figure that's something most are just born to.
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Date: 2018-10-18 03:54 am (UTC)[Sorrel doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands, and eventually settles on twisting the hem of his shirt into increasingly damage-worthy knots.]
...I've never had good control. The Keeper always said that some people are just naturally weaker or stronger than others. That it just meant I had to try harder. I do try. But it takes... a lot of work. [Lazy. Selfish. Weak. You only hesitate because of your fear; of yourself, your magic, your worth realized. Coward.] So, even after I did get my magic...
[The shirt twists and untwists in his hands, wrinkling the fabric.]
...There was this. Ambush. Sometimes, it's like that, slavers or bandits or someone from a village tries to... to take down a few Dalish scouts. Scare us off. It usually works, to tell the truth; not much to gain in a fight like that. But, you know. A bunch of big, angry shem'len, coming at you from nowhere, it's frightening enough.
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Date: 2018-10-18 12:49 pm (UTC)Did they hurt you? [He asked soberly and quietly. He would never be angry at Sorrel, or ashamed of him if he had gotten hurt.]
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Date: 2018-10-18 05:26 pm (UTC)He swallows hard, and looks away, visibly struggling with words. Had they hurt him? He gestures vaguely at his face, at the scar running just parallel to the line of white vallaslin.]
Tore my whole face open.
[And then, he looked away, unable to maintain the honesty of it, too open, too vulnerable. Coward.]
Got me on the ground. I don't know what his plan was, waving around a knife that big, but I wasn't exactly sitting still for it. I don't remember exactly how it happened, because something hit me in the head and there was this terrible noise, then Beleth was there. And I was just... just trying to hold my face together. [His hand comes up in sympathy with the memory.] I couldn't seem to make the magic obey, couldn't figure out how fire, or healing, or anything worked. I panicked. I always panic. I'm a coward.
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Date: 2018-10-19 12:50 pm (UTC)He held out his hands, so Sorrel could take them or keep them to himself, but it wasn't going to stop Adasse from speaking.]
So like anyone normal child, when you got attacked by someone three times your size, you froze in fear. I don't think that makes you a coward, Sorrel. I think that makes you someone understands fear -- and that is not a bad thing. It means you're careful, and thoughtful, and frankly considering how much of an impulsive bastard I am ... one of us has to have their head on their shoulders.
Just like you do for Beleth, right?
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Date: 2018-10-19 05:38 pm (UTC)[This with the ironclad ring of Inarguable Truth; she's smarter, and wiser, and more knowledgeable too. She even gets along better with everyone. Life would have been much more graceful if she had been the one born to magic and he'd have been little more than a not particularly notable hunter, and a scout among many.
Adasse's hands hang there, just beside Sorrel's knees. He doesn't take his hand so much as just let his own rest inside Adasse's open palm.]
No, you're not supposed to try and make this sound like a good thing, don't make excuses for... [Is he whining? It sounds like whining.] ...You're being ridiculous. And I can not be the voice of reason! We're all going to die, if I'm somehow the steady one.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-19 05:51 pm (UTC)[Over and over and over again ...sheesh.
Besides, she has nothing on the knowledge that Sorrel keeps locked away in himself; the legends, the histories, all the important things about their People. He folded his fingers around those limp hands, gives them a squeeze.]
What do you want me to say? 'Oh no, Sorrel, you're such a horrible chicken for fighting against a shem three times your size with a knife and being scared after he smacked you about the head.' That's ridiculous. So yeah, you're scared. Big whoop. I'm not scared of shems, and would you like to see all the scars I've got on my back again? That's what I get for being Brave and Stupid.
[He intertwines their fingers.] So maybe we meet in the middle, huh? More brave for you, more fear for me, so we Don't Die.
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Date: 2018-10-19 06:15 pm (UTC)[And he will, too! Although, really the way he's going up on his knees to shove at Adasse in exasperation strangely enough seems to have more to do with putting him in the man's lap than actually doing any damage.]
If you ever go off and die without me, I'll kill you.
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Date: 2018-10-19 06:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-10-19 06:45 pm (UTC)[Strong arms around his waist, balanced up on his knees, half-resting his weight on Adasse's thighs... Sorrel smiles, finally. And then he tips his head down to press their foreheads together, like a promise sealed.]
I'd be lost without you.
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Date: 2018-10-19 06:54 pm (UTC)[Dark eyes bright, smile irrepressible, even as he leans his forehead against Sorrel's, his voice quiet.]
You're my family, Sorrel. I won't leave you without fighting to my very last breath, and I know how to do that, no problem.
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Date: 2018-10-19 07:30 pm (UTC)What did I just say?
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Date: 2018-10-19 07:37 pm (UTC)[His smile is there, but his eyes are a little sad, before he straightens. Looks more serious.]
How about this? I'll kill whomever tries to take me away breathing air, and away from you. I promise. Maker's Balls, I've been doing that from before we met -- it is absolutely a promise I can keep right down to the blades.
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Date: 2018-10-19 07:53 pm (UTC)So let's just both stay alive and try not to get any more scars, no matter how tragically handsome and rougish they make you seem. Alright?
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Date: 2018-10-20 07:44 pm (UTC)[He opens his eyes, his gaze serious.] You've never asked me about my tragic and handsome scars, you know.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-20 07:54 pm (UTC)[The joke is misplaced, and he reddens a little to hear it fall with a flat, wet plonk. Sorrel sobers, then, and strokes his thumbs through the soft fuzz at Adasse's hairine.]
I always want to know everything about you. But I never want to hurt you, so I... I just waited. I thought, maybe you'll tell me when you're ready. You shouldn't have to tell me anything, it's alright. People should have secrets. [He's probably better liar to people who don't know him as well, or who aren't gazing directly into his eyes. He wants to know. He very, very much wants to know.] But, if we're talking now, and you are ready...
no subject
Date: 2018-10-20 08:32 pm (UTC)[Adasse said, a half-smile on his face, before his expression also becomes sober. He strokes his finger along Sorrel's scar, before exhaling.]
I told you, I am Brave and Stupid. So when I was twelve ... I wasn't the great thief I am now. I was all right - but I was small. I got caught, trying to nick a purse off a nobleman. [He paused, then exhaled.] A nobleman who had a taste for elven children.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-20 09:21 pm (UTC)You've survived some terrible things, ma'nehn.
[It was easy to imagine that the term heartache was one made up for artistic effect, but the truth is that Sorrel's entire chest hurts, as if he'd been badly kicked by an unhappy Halla.]
no subject
Date: 2018-10-21 12:20 am (UTC)[He ran his fingers through Sorrel's auburn hair, loving every strand of it, while he stated simply.]
The trick was - that the nobleman left me with his like-minded footman. And the like-minded footman was supposed to clean my gutter-snipe self up for his lordship's pleasure, but he wanted a taste first. After all, they'd already held me down and whipped me within an inch of my life, I couldn't have any more fight in me, right?
[He leaned in, and kissed those soft, understanding lips.]
At least he thought that until I shoved a three inch piece of metal through his gullet. People leave all kind of scrap, down by the harbor. I stabbed him again in the neck for good measure, and then I limped my way off. Fell right into the alienage. Some of the other elves there took me in, healed me up, and gave me food. Taught me two things, that.
[He leaned back, looking at Sorrel.] I'd never have anyone touch me, that I didn't want to ... and that even though I was the bravest and luckiest little elven boy that ever lived - I was a damned idiot. I had to teach myself to be careful, to stay back, to wait in the shadows and move only when it was ready. It's not easy - it's damned hard sometimes when I want to shove another piece of metal into a shem's gut for making my beloved feel less than he is. But I know ... I've got to be smart, if I want to live.
[He nuzzled another kiss into Sorrel's lips, murmuring.] 'Cuz I have something that I want to live for.
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