gottakeeponejumpahead: (Default)
[personal profile] gottakeeponejumpahead

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

Date: 2019-05-03 01:33 am (UTC)
writteninblood: (Quercus robur)
From: [personal profile] writteninblood
Shut up. You always say that, you say it, but it isn't true! I'm not some noble prince, and even if I ever was, I'm not that anymore. I'm... alone.

[Not entirely, he knows: Adasse, for example, is right here in his arms. But alone, without a clan, without even what he'd thought of as his last bastion... alone, outside of his home, and his context, and his religion. He would like to push back, to shake Adasse right back, but it's too hard, so instead he just clings harder. As if he could somehow exact some vague idea of punishment by simply holding on too tightly.]

And you're... you're here. [Well, that anger ran out of steam quickly.] Why are you here.

[It comes out sounding like whm re oo ere, pressed against Adasse's shoulder.]

Why did you pick me? Was it because of... of all the... the things I don't have, anymore? I keep thinking, I need to know why, so I can do something. Keep it from going away. But that's crazy, isn't it? [It has to be. No one thinks that way: as if all he had to do to keep Adase's regard was find some facet of himself, some gesture, and repeat it endlessly. He hates himself.] It's crazy. I... Am I?

Date: 2019-05-03 04:30 am (UTC)
writteninblood: (Antirrhinum majus)
From: [personal profile] writteninblood
[At that Sorre does ease up. He goes slack, not from anger, but in shock. Allowed to be sad. Allowed. It seems so petty and ridiculous an idea, permission to feel an emotion, as if he needed any such thing. But the painful, striking agony of it was; he did need the permission.

He needed it. Because he hadn't been... Sorrel turns his blotchy, tear-wetted face up towards Adasse, not sure if he should feel outraged or upset, or simply...sad. Empty. Adasse's arms are still around him, and he's talking. He's said so many things, about kindness and faith and that little bite of a joke; you're crap at being sad, Sorrel.
]

But. What if I'm... too much. And you...

[Leave. What if Adasse leaves him? What if he's not good enough? But even so, the desperate fervency is gone. He's sad. Sorrel is sad, and shocked hollow with the idea of the freedom to do so, and that it be safe to feel it truly.]

...I... I'm scared, 'Dasse. And I am bad at... that. I love you. [small and sweet and undeniably honest, that tone. Sorrel repeats it, stronger:] I love you.

Date: 2019-05-04 03:23 am (UTC)
writteninblood: (Default)
From: [personal profile] writteninblood
[For a few straining moments, it's all Sorrel can do to simply breathe, and grimace against the hot flow of yet more tears. It's embarrassing, as if Sorrel isn't doing enough at the moment and the Creators thought it might amuse to pile on yet more. Eventually he manages to do more than press back up against Adasse's brow.]

You... you bully. You're making me cry.

[He was already crying, but now he's crying more. It's hard to sound fake-indignant around all the very real emotions, but Sorrel gives it a sad, pathetic try. Then he gives up and just closes his eyes and lets it happen.]

I interrupted your work. [Which is some special breed of masochism, to now be looking for reasons that he should be a burden, rather than simply encountering them as he goes. It's almost a joke, the attempt is so token.] So I could cry on you.

Date: 2019-05-06 02:25 am (UTC)
writteninblood: (Default)
From: [personal profile] writteninblood
Useful. [Pff.] You're already the most useful person in bloody Kirkwall...

[Sorrel sniffs a little and lets the silence cup its hands around them, feeling the movement of air and heart, swallowing up the lingering tail of his own weary sorrow in the gentle back and forth rocking of their combined balance. He sighs, eyes closed, strangely content; crying was like that, wasn't it? Like the clean smell, after a good strong rain. He felt washed out, scraped clean.]

You're not really, you know: a bastard. Or a bully. You're so good. The best.

Date: 2019-05-06 07:37 pm (UTC)
writteninblood: (Taraxacum officinale)
From: [personal profile] writteninblood
[And the response, of course, is a strangled little grumble. He was absolutely about to make just such an argument, and Adasse cut him off at the knees.]

Fenedhis.

You're lucky you're cute, Adasse Agassi.

Date: 2019-05-07 03:42 am (UTC)
writteninblood: (Taraxacum officinale)
From: [personal profile] writteninblood
Well, you are that, at least.

[Sorrel tips his head back, looking up at Adasse consideringly. Then he reaches to cup Adasse's face in both hands, pulls him down slightly, and kisses him. By the time it's over, he's smiling too.]

A lot of things indeed, ma'nehn.

Date: 2019-05-09 04:41 am (UTC)
writteninblood: (Antirrhinum majus)
From: [personal profile] writteninblood
An ass.

[You can tell he's feeling better when he's back to that tone.]

Gorgeous. Strong. Very clever. Maybe too clever for your own good, sometimes. Loyal. Generous. Mine.

[All his. Sorrel closes his eyes and sighs, back to that contented, rocking silence.]

I'm okay now, love, really.

Date: 2019-05-11 03:28 pm (UTC)
writteninblood: (Taraxacum officinale)
From: [personal profile] writteninblood
[For just a moment, Sorrel looks surprised. If he'd been the type, he might have squeaked— even after this much time together, he's still not used to it. But then he laughs, and throws his arms around Adasse's neck.]

Oh, really. That's awfully presumptuous of you, Mr. Agassi.

Date: 2019-05-13 01:40 am (UTC)
writteninblood: (Leontodon taraxacoides)
From: [personal profile] writteninblood
I love it.

[Sorrel is nothing loathe; he grins and leans deliberately into Adasse's grip. He'd complain, if only for consistency, about being picked up and whirled around like a doll, but the joy in the moment is too precious to discard simply for the sake of a running joke.]

The way you always sweep me off my feet.

Date: 2019-05-14 02:16 am (UTC)
writteninblood: (Taraxacum officinale)
From: [personal profile] writteninblood
Seems to me, what's happening here is someone [not to name names, of course] is trying to use all this as an excuse to skim off work.

[He's up on his tiptoes now, all the better to lean in and up, teasing.]

Which I really ought not to allow, being that I'm meant to be some kind of authority in this place. And yet.

I could be convinced.

[Convince him, Adasse. The eyebrow waggle commands you.]

Date: 2019-05-15 03:45 am (UTC)
writteninblood: (Taraxacum officinale)
From: [personal profile] writteninblood
[Sorrel laughs, and then Adasse is kissing him. It's these moments he cherishes the most, really; the simple happiness, the way he can forget all the little anxieties of the moment and lean into Adasse's arms. He won't drop Sorrel: this is safe. This is safety.

To put it mildly: he's well convinced.
]

...kay, 'Dasse. Let's do that. [Wit is for other people, at the moment. Sorrel always loses a little of his when that first arousal hits him.] What, here?

Date: 2019-05-18 05:16 am (UTC)
writteninblood: (Leontodon taraxacoides)
From: [personal profile] writteninblood
You're just as ridiculous as the first time.

[It's said fondly; note that he's not complaining. What Sorrel is doing? No, definitely no complaining. He will start sliding his hands up under the back of Adasse's shirt, however. Don't think he's not noticed how you never expose your back to people, mister Agassi... or how you never mind it at all, when it's Sorrel. He's greedy for that, the secret of it, a hidden thing and only for him. Mine, mine, mine.]

Remember that day? [Almost everyone has fond memories of their first time, however brief and awkward a fumble it may be; Sorrel is not different.] I was so nervous.

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Adasse Agassi

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