[Adasse all but sleepily purred, before he hummed. He loves Sorrel's accent.] Ar lath ma, sweetheart. Always. You should come home soon, so I can show you how much.
[There's a soft sound, clunk, quiet but meaningful, because every time... Every bloody time, that gets him. And here he is again, grinning like the soggy sap the wine's turned him into, at the crystal.]
I should? Oh. Yes, I should. Home.
[He's distracted by that word for a moment. Home. Was the Gallows home? No. Nor the alienage. Nor anywhere in Kirkwall. But then, neither was the clan, anymore. Where was home? Wherever Adasse was? Wherever Beleth was?]
I wanna go home.
[And with that small, sad murmur, Sorrel signs off, and stumbles his way down corridors and side-ways, across courtyards and, miraculously, navigates the Gallows stairwells without turning an ankle or hurting himself. It's nothing short of a minor miracle that nothing happens to him, but Sorrel survives to lean against the door to their shared room and... fail to comprehend the knob. Three tries. Three, just to get it grasped. It's a struggle to turn it, and then Sorrel more falls in than opens it. He's not a graceful forest creature, tonight.]
Sorry, Coco. [There is a pause. And then, plaintively:] Am I home yet?
[Adasse lets out a low chuckle, but since it takes Sorrel awhile to get back to their room, he dozes off again with Coco on his chest. Which is fine until Sorrel tries to get in - fails three times and all but falls in. Coco makes a squeaking noise and dives off the bed. Adasse sits straight up, blinking his eyes.]
Wha ... yeah, darlin'. You're home. Ah. Walk forward. Wait, can you walk?
I fell down. [That is, for the moment, terribly funny: Sorrel giggles. The door swings shut, leaving them all in relative darkness.] I'm sorry, I woke you up. Two times. Two! I'm bad at husbing. Husbandrying.
[Haha. Husbanding sounds like husbandry. Like with livestock. The floor is very uncomfortable, and so Sorrel laboriously creaks himself up off of it and onto the bed. Well, halfway. He's within Adasse's reach, at least.]
[Adasse is now sitting up in bed, shirtless, sheets pooled around his waist as he looks at his drunken husband with absolute wry amusement in his sleepy gaze.]
Yeah, sort of getting the drunk thing.
[He leaned all the way over to hall Sorrel fully onto the bed. Then he leans to get Sorrel's boots off of him.]
Nope. I was down at th'rose and everybody wanted me for— [He laughs and then keeps laughing, unable to hold onto the joke. Still, he lifts his feet helpfully for the taking of boots] Yeah, with Bel'. I love Bel. She's the best ever, you know?
[of course you know. Beleth Ashara is obviously the best ever, everyone has to be able to see that.]
Shems make us wanna drink. Then more. Then it's like.... the bottle's not empty, but it's.... not full? Gotta finish it. So we did. I did. I'm sorry.
[This last said most plaintively. Please don't hate him because of wine.]
Re-ally hoping they weren't doing things like, say, asking you to spend the night.
[Was Adasse's dry response, as he tossed the boots off the bed, and started to man-handle Sorrel under the covers. He'd have to get him some water and a bucket too ...
He yawned, and got himself up.]
Beleth's the best ever.
[He does like his vicious, vicious boss.]
[Padding over bare-foot, he brought over a water skin and a bucket for Sorrel's side of the bed.]
Sorrel, I could never hate you. Or wine. You're adorable.
How would I sleep at the Rose? It's loud and noisy and... and you're up here?
[Something important isn't connecting these dots for Sorrel, but he's trying, bless his screwed up little expression of confusion. Why would he want to sleep in the city when Adasse is here in the Gallows? You so silly, 'Dasse.]
Nu-uh, I'm a sop. I'm boots in the bed. I don't even... like... boots.
[But he's also distracted. Oh, it's Adasse shirtless, he has finally realized. Oh no. Sorrel does nothing to help except lay flopped over on the bed and stare. Oh no!]
[Awwww, Sorrel. Adasse's gonna get in this bed and cuddle you in a second.]
No you don't, but you love your sister and you don't want to cause trouble so you wore the dumb boots. You're a good, Sorrel Ashara. And you're not a sop, neither.
[See, now Adasse without his shirt is crawling into bed and coming to cuddle because.]
[Sorrel likes this development, he likes it very much. He makes a small, agreeable sound and lets his hands smooth eagerly along the sleep-warmed line of Adasse's shoulders and back, until he's as wrapped up as he is wrapped around. It's nice, this way, quiet and still and simple, with nothing but warmth and comfort and the familiar, masculine smell of Adasse in his arms. Sorrel puts his head down and breathes, letting the tension pour out of him. It doesn't seem to matter that Sorrel himself hasn't yet undressed.]
Sorreldorable. [He can't help the joke, it bubbles out of him in a helpless little mutter; filters are for losers, and sober people.] I thought of something. S'important.
[And, for a few seconds, that seems to be it. Sorrel falls silent, breathing in a way that implies that the boozy ardour has ended and the drunken nap is to begin. But then Sorrel heaves in another breath.]
Your tree. It's beautiful, but without leaves, it looks dead. I want it to have life, because you're... you're full of life. You should feel alive. Yeah?
[Oh, look at that. Just sliding into bed and he is already getting wrapped up in the warm, sleepy and tender embrace of Sorreldorable. He nuzzles Sorrel's cheek, snickering softly at the joke, as they get themselves all nice and wrapped up together.]
Oh?
[There's a pause, and then ... there's a wait, and then maybe a sleepy snore?]
You said I should pick something. So you can give me the ring? [Sorrel leans back, because picking his head up would require him not to be pinned between the bedclothes and Adasse's body, and Sorrel is not in any hurry to move.] Green leafs. Life. Our life, together.
[And his smile is soft and round in a way that he could blame on drink, but which has much more to do with how ridiculously in love he is with you, Adasse Agassi. He tilts his head a little, just so, a clumsy but unmistakable invitation for a kiss.]
[And just like that, Adasse was melted into goo. Warm, chocolate elven goo. He smiled back, just as soft and just as bright. One hand reaching up to trace over Sorrel's own tattoos, the ink that defined his faith, and he started to kiss his way along the lines.]
I think that is perfect - green is growth, new beginnings, something coming out of the cold and the dark. That is us, love. It's so perfect ... you're perfect. For me, and none of that nonsense about how you aren't.
[Kissing those soft, smiling lips, tasting wine and Sorrel as he murmured quietly, haltingly.] Ma vhenan. Var lath vir suledin.
[Sorrel, who had let his eyes fall closed, submitting peacefully to tender words and soft touches, blinks and stares at Adasse, wide-eyed. What? He blinks again, and the words come together in his head, half-broken syllables linking through to become words. Var lath vir... Oh, that's an old dream, a guilty pleasure with Adasse being so very of-the-city.]
Who taught you that? [His whole self seems to light up with the joy of it, hearing those words, however clumsily pronounced. Moreso, perhaps, because the learning of them had been special, taken real thought, and effort. Sorrel grins, overjoyed, and surges up to meet Adasse's kiss with his own.] You... you beautiful man.
[That's not much of a comeback, of course. But then, Sorrel's not much of a wit, tonight.]
[Adasse grinned at him, from pointed ear to pointed ear, stroking his fingers over Sorrel's grin right before he's kissed very enthusiastically.]
You taught me that - or rather - the scrolls you have left around taught me that. [He stole another kiss, leaning to press Sorrel down into their straw mattress.] I want to learn a thousand more words, to make you smile like this.
[It prompts a laugh, a fond little chuckle in the back of Sorrel's throat, both the realization and the way Adasse is pressing him down. He's too tipsy to remember his nerves or to worry about anything but the playful happiness glowing in his belly. And here he is, still dressed, except for the boots.]
It's said suledeen. You're thinking about the castle. Which is also because the shem'len mispronounce because... [He shakes his head; because shems, is why. But even that old annoyance is tempered into fondness by the unshakable smile. And then Adasse kisses him again, which is worth another little laugh, all dazed and delighted.] Y-you always make me smile. Even when the... when everything is.... [Creators, words are hard tonight.] ...bad. That's why I call'd you ma'nehn. Remember?
[Adasse grins, before leaning in to mouth against Sorrel's neck briefly, and start to get rid if this pesky clothing. It is keeping him from enjoying Sorrel's lecture on pronunciation while mostly naked.]
You know ... I never thought of learning as erotic before ... but just keep telling me how to properly speak Elvish, love. [He kisses one bared collarbone, his dark eyes going soft around the edges once more.] I remember. I'll always remember, sweetheart.
[ If that was meant to win a laugh out does. Really, 'Dasse? Really? ]
Oh is that how it works? Who knew, all these years when the big secret of seduction has just been obnoxiously correcting everyone's pronoun-
[ He inhales sharply, immediately willing to forget his terrain of thought, and then wriggles to free himself from his shirt. Off! Off off! These haphazard attempts are only somewhat successful but it's sure to give Adasse plenty of time with a mostly-shirtless Sorrel and the fancy new belly scar he brought home from the Inquisition's fruitless efforts in Orlais. Meanwhile: Sorrel's got his arms stuck. ]
[Yeah absolutely that, and the laugh made it all worth it.]
It works for me ...
[A purr that ends up in a laugh on his end, as Sorrel tries to struggle out of the shirt. He snickers, even as he leans in to gently kiss that scar, then moves to help Sorrel with his shirt.]
You're a mess, you are. A gorgeous one, but still.
[Sorrel continues in the theme of the night, helping not at all and instead arching up to steal a kiss despite his entanglement. Well, as much as something so freely offered can be stolen, as such.]
I'm drunk. In the morning. I'll be... not. [So there! nyah. And, finally he's free, through no useful effort on his own part. Still, the struggle was worth it, just to press up close, skin to skin, lazy and warm in the dark.] I'll be a sober mess. You'll still be...
[A moment to think of an insult, just hold on.]
...not saying... suledin right. [Check and mate, Adasse, what do you have to say to THAT?!]
[Adasse can't help it, he's snickering as he gets Sorrel all nice and half naked with him, curling his arms around him and nuzzling that spot on Sorrel's neck that he likes.]
You're right, I'll still be mispronouncing it. [Right, time to be evil, as he whispers in his lover's ear.] But maybe I'll work on rolling my d's when my mouth is around your cock, then?
[Sorrel whines, tilting his head to offer Adasse his throat, a clear, automatic submission.]
Ah— [Even after enough time that this sort of situation has become something like commonplace, It still hit him like a bolt of lightning, scattering his thoughts, moreso even than they had been by the wine.] Yes. Please,'Dasse.
[Sorrel's protest is immediate and automatic. He stares for a long, confused moment, wide eyed and blinking.]
Oh? [Had this ever happened before? He didn't think so. But then, he didn't exactly make a habit of toddling up her smelling like a bar and needing help just to get out of his shoes. Sorrel blinks again twice, in rapid succession; ah, he really has been an ass. He must be rather disgusting at the moment. Adasse is a saint just to want to be near him.] Oh...okay.
[Good, that sounded appropriately meek.]
We should. Sleep then? Because I woke you up. And Coco.
[From in front of him, Adasse let out a sigh - and then a laugh as he leaned back to look at Sorrel.] We have got to work on your sexy roleplay when you're sober, sweetheart. [He stretched out atop Sorrel, whispering against his mouth.] I was teasing you so you'd turn around and jump me. As I don't want to go to bed until you've yelled my name at least once. Loud enough to be heard a few rooms over.
[He sucked Sorrel's bottom lip between his teeth, murmuring against his chin.] So how about it, love? Can I put you to bed proper?
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2019-01-07 04:25 am (UTC)[Adasse all but sleepily purred, before he hummed. He loves Sorrel's accent.] Ar lath ma, sweetheart. Always. You should come home soon, so I can show you how much.
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Date: 2019-01-07 04:35 am (UTC)I should? Oh. Yes, I should. Home.
[He's distracted by that word for a moment. Home. Was the Gallows home? No. Nor the alienage. Nor anywhere in Kirkwall. But then, neither was the clan, anymore. Where was home? Wherever Adasse was? Wherever Beleth was?]
I wanna go home.
[And with that small, sad murmur, Sorrel signs off, and stumbles his way down corridors and side-ways, across courtyards and, miraculously, navigates the Gallows stairwells without turning an ankle or hurting himself. It's nothing short of a minor miracle that nothing happens to him, but Sorrel survives to lean against the door to their shared room and... fail to comprehend the knob. Three tries. Three, just to get it grasped. It's a struggle to turn it, and then Sorrel more falls in than opens it. He's not a graceful forest creature, tonight.]
Sorry, Coco. [There is a pause. And then, plaintively:] Am I home yet?
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Date: 2019-01-07 04:46 am (UTC)Wha ... yeah, darlin'. You're home. Ah. Walk forward. Wait, can you walk?
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Date: 2019-01-07 04:54 am (UTC)[Coco lands squarely on Sorrel's chest. Ow.]
I fell down. [That is, for the moment, terribly funny: Sorrel giggles. The door swings shut, leaving them all in relative darkness.] I'm sorry, I woke you up. Two times. Two! I'm bad at husbing. Husbandrying.
[Haha. Husbanding sounds like husbandry. Like with livestock. The floor is very uncomfortable, and so Sorrel laboriously creaks himself up off of it and onto the bed. Well, halfway. He's within Adasse's reach, at least.]
I'm not too bad. Just drunk.
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Date: 2019-01-07 01:53 pm (UTC)Yeah, sort of getting the drunk thing.
[He leaned all the way over to hall Sorrel fully onto the bed. Then he leans to get Sorrel's boots off of him.]
Please tell me you were with your sister?
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Date: 2019-01-07 07:01 pm (UTC)[of course you know. Beleth Ashara is obviously the best ever, everyone has to be able to see that.]
Shems make us wanna drink. Then more. Then it's like.... the bottle's not empty, but it's.... not full? Gotta finish it. So we did. I did. I'm sorry.
[This last said most plaintively. Please don't hate him because of wine.]
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Date: 2019-01-07 09:21 pm (UTC)[Was Adasse's dry response, as he tossed the boots off the bed, and started to man-handle Sorrel under the covers. He'd have to get him some water and a bucket too ...
He yawned, and got himself up.]
Beleth's the best ever.
[He does like his vicious, vicious boss.]
[Padding over bare-foot, he brought over a water skin and a bucket for Sorrel's side of the bed.]
Sorrel, I could never hate you. Or wine. You're adorable.
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Date: 2019-01-07 10:51 pm (UTC)[Something important isn't connecting these dots for Sorrel, but he's trying, bless his screwed up little expression of confusion. Why would he want to sleep in the city when Adasse is here in the Gallows? You so silly, 'Dasse.]
Nu-uh, I'm a sop. I'm boots in the bed. I don't even... like... boots.
[But he's also distracted. Oh, it's Adasse shirtless, he has finally realized. Oh no. Sorrel does nothing to help except lay flopped over on the bed and stare. Oh no!]
I'm not ador'ble.
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Date: 2019-01-08 04:22 am (UTC)No you don't, but you love your sister and you don't want to cause trouble so you wore the dumb boots. You're a good, Sorrel Ashara. And you're not a sop, neither.
[See, now Adasse without his shirt is crawling into bed and coming to cuddle because.]
You are So adorable.
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Date: 2019-01-08 04:39 am (UTC)Sorreldorable. [He can't help the joke, it bubbles out of him in a helpless little mutter; filters are for losers, and sober people.] I thought of something. S'important.
[And, for a few seconds, that seems to be it. Sorrel falls silent, breathing in a way that implies that the boozy ardour has ended and the drunken nap is to begin. But then Sorrel heaves in another breath.]
Your tree. It's beautiful, but without leaves, it looks dead. I want it to have life, because you're... you're full of life. You should feel alive. Yeah?
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Date: 2019-01-08 05:47 am (UTC)Oh?
[There's a pause, and then ... there's a wait, and then maybe a sleepy snore?]
Oh! Ah, well. Yeah, I can see that.
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Date: 2019-01-08 05:56 am (UTC)[And his smile is soft and round in a way that he could blame on drink, but which has much more to do with how ridiculously in love he is with you, Adasse Agassi. He tilts his head a little, just so, a clumsy but unmistakable invitation for a kiss.]
Ar lath ma, emma nehn. Always.
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Date: 2019-01-09 03:10 pm (UTC)I think that is perfect - green is growth, new beginnings, something coming out of the cold and the dark. That is us, love. It's so perfect ... you're perfect. For me, and none of that nonsense about how you aren't.
[Kissing those soft, smiling lips, tasting wine and Sorrel as he murmured quietly, haltingly.] Ma vhenan. Var lath vir suledin.
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Date: 2019-01-09 07:42 pm (UTC)Who taught you that? [His whole self seems to light up with the joy of it, hearing those words, however clumsily pronounced. Moreso, perhaps, because the learning of them had been special, taken real thought, and effort. Sorrel grins, overjoyed, and surges up to meet Adasse's kiss with his own.] You... you beautiful man.
[That's not much of a comeback, of course. But then, Sorrel's not much of a wit, tonight.]
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Date: 2019-01-10 02:12 am (UTC)You taught me that - or rather - the scrolls you have left around taught me that. [He stole another kiss, leaning to press Sorrel down into their straw mattress.] I want to learn a thousand more words, to make you smile like this.
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Date: 2019-01-10 02:41 am (UTC)[It prompts a laugh, a fond little chuckle in the back of Sorrel's throat, both the realization and the way Adasse is pressing him down. He's too tipsy to remember his nerves or to worry about anything but the playful happiness glowing in his belly. And here he is, still dressed, except for the boots.]
It's said suledeen. You're thinking about the castle. Which is also because the shem'len mispronounce because... [He shakes his head; because shems, is why. But even that old annoyance is tempered into fondness by the unshakable smile. And then Adasse kisses him again, which is worth another little laugh, all dazed and delighted.] Y-you always make me smile. Even when the... when everything is.... [Creators, words are hard tonight.] ...bad. That's why I call'd you ma'nehn. Remember?
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Date: 2019-01-10 05:34 pm (UTC)You know ... I never thought of learning as erotic before ... but just keep telling me how to properly speak Elvish, love. [He kisses one bared collarbone, his dark eyes going soft around the edges once more.] I remember. I'll always remember, sweetheart.
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Date: 2019-01-10 08:32 pm (UTC)Oh is that how it works? Who knew, all these years when the big secret of seduction has just been obnoxiously correcting everyone's pronoun-
[ He inhales sharply, immediately willing to forget his terrain of thought, and then wriggles to free himself from his shirt. Off! Off off! These haphazard attempts are only somewhat successful but it's sure to give Adasse plenty of time with a mostly-shirtless Sorrel and the fancy new belly scar he brought home from the Inquisition's fruitless efforts in Orlais. Meanwhile: Sorrel's got his arms stuck. ]
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Date: 2019-01-11 04:23 am (UTC)It works for me ...
[A purr that ends up in a laugh on his end, as Sorrel tries to struggle out of the shirt. He snickers, even as he leans in to gently kiss that scar, then moves to help Sorrel with his shirt.]
You're a mess, you are. A gorgeous one, but still.
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Date: 2019-01-11 04:35 am (UTC)I'm drunk. In the morning. I'll be... not. [So there! nyah. And, finally he's free, through no useful effort on his own part. Still, the struggle was worth it, just to press up close, skin to skin, lazy and warm in the dark.] I'll be a sober mess. You'll still be...
[A moment to think of an insult, just hold on.]
...not saying... suledin right. [Check and mate, Adasse, what do you have to say to THAT?!]
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Date: 2019-01-11 03:19 pm (UTC)You're right, I'll still be mispronouncing it. [Right, time to be evil, as he whispers in his lover's ear.] But maybe I'll work on rolling my d's when my mouth is around your cock, then?
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Date: 2019-01-12 02:38 am (UTC)[Sorrel whines, tilting his head to offer Adasse his throat, a clear, automatic submission.]
Ah— [Even after enough time that this sort of situation has become something like commonplace, It still hit him like a bolt of lightning, scattering his thoughts, moreso even than they had been by the wine.] Yes. Please,'Dasse.
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Date: 2019-01-12 04:45 am (UTC)[And now, the ultimate tease. Adasse pecks Sorrel's cheek lightly and chastely.]
Then in the morning when I still can't pronounce it, we'll have a delightful time, won't we?
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Date: 2019-01-16 01:05 am (UTC)[Sorrel's protest is immediate and automatic. He stares for a long, confused moment, wide eyed and blinking.]
Oh? [Had this ever happened before? He didn't think so. But then, he didn't exactly make a habit of toddling up her smelling like a bar and needing help just to get out of his shoes. Sorrel blinks again twice, in rapid succession; ah, he really has been an ass. He must be rather disgusting at the moment. Adasse is a saint just to want to be near him.] Oh...okay.
[Good, that sounded appropriately meek.]
We should. Sleep then? Because I woke you up. And Coco.
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Date: 2019-01-16 03:27 am (UTC)[He sucked Sorrel's bottom lip between his teeth, murmuring against his chin.] So how about it, love? Can I put you to bed proper?
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