[Open Moons Mingle Log]

[serpentis]

Who: Anyone and Everyone!
Broadcast: Maybe!
Action: Abeo, Accendo, Adsum
When: 2/3-2/7

[WELCOME TO THE MOONS ENJOY YOUR STAY DON'T GET ARRESTED.]

Comments

All Week [Accendo and Adsum]

[serpentis]

Adsum.

[Dorian spends his days working odd jobs on Adsum, doing what work he can with other like-minded and terribly vain people. He fits right in, to no one's surprise, and is more than happy playing the part of the fop with little in his head save what color of boots to wear with his robes.

He works, he earns money, and he generally enjoys flirting with anyone that will give him a moment of his time.]

Accendo.

[However, some nights are spent on Accendo, drinking away his sorrows and pissing away what money he can bear to part with. The alcohol isn't great, but honestly, he would drink anything right about now.

He often visits bars, nursing whiskey or bourbon on the rocks.]

accendo;

[parricida]

[There's not so many people on the fleet that Garak can't keep track of them all. He doesn't know them all personally, of course, but the human with the mustache is rather attractive, and he can't help but notice each time they cross paths on both moons.

The fourth day he catches his eye in the bar. With a little smirk on his face he sits across from him.]

Now, my knowledge of human anatomy is hardly perfect, but I can't imagine drinking so often is particularly helpful to your body. And yet you seem particularly fit, so perhaps I'm entirely wrong.

In any case: I happen to have a bit of extra money on my hands. Might I buy you a drink?

[serpentis]

[Dorian looks over, giving him an apprising glance, and he nods, smirking, charmed.]

Been watching me, have you?

[He turns back to the bar, smiling to himself, pleased, as if nothing in the world mattered more than his looks, nevermind that he was drinking to fill his sorrows and loneliness.

Perish the thought.]

I can't say I entirely blame you. I'm drinking whatever is passable, whiskey, if you would, or bourbon. We spoke over the network once, correct?

[parricida]

[With surprising grace Garak takes the seat next to him-- not too close, not invading his space, but close enough for them to converse. With a gesture he orders them two more whiskeys.]

We did indeed. Frankly, I was grateful for someone who cared about appearance-- I'd rather not become ragged and filthy, kidnapped or not.

[serpentis]

And to think, we have an audience watching us in such condition, or so I am told.

[He gives Garak a long look, and then smiles.]

I suppose there could be worse company than a handsome stranger. Where are you from?

[parricida]

You flatter me.

[Not that he minds, clearly.]

That's a rather complicated question, isn't it? For now, I'm from the good ship Red Fish. Before that, a space station called Deep Space Nine. And yourself? Thedas, yes, but anything more specific?

[serpentis]

The Tevinter Imperium, more specifically. I won't bore you with the details, when we could be talking about more exciting subjects, such as ourselves.

[He takes a drink.]

Have you been here long? I've just recently arrived.

[parricida]

Just shy of two months, though it feels like far longer.

[serpentis]

[He chuckles softly.]

I can understand. I've been here mere weeks and though I'm not quite used to it yet, I'm acclimating more quickly than I would have expected.

Accendo;

[catamite]

[Dorian isn't the only one crashing into the Rising moon and not slowing down until a goal is reached. Nel is on a similar mission, and he's doing very well at it so far. he's got quite a bit of extra spending cash now, after all.

so, hours after Three Twins had touched down and the crew all scattered, Nel accidentally finds his way back to something familiar. drifting from one place to the next, he finally makes his way here... and wanders down the bar to see if the person who looks vaguely familiar from a distance is who he really thinks it is up close.

the elf is just suddenly there, squeezing between people to lean in around the side and squint at Dorian's face.]

--Oh, hey! It is you!

[smiling wide, and smelling like booze]

[serpentis]

Ah, Nel, what are you doing here? I can't imagine you're staying out of trouble.

[Nel reeks of alcohol, but Dorian's can't entirely blame him. It would be hypocritical of him to a say word. After all, Dorian was here, drowning his sorrows in whiskey and then toddling back to the room he had rented.

So he can really say nothing. He gestures with his glass, turning toward Nel, nodding.]

Care to join me?

[catamite]

Of course!

[not shy at all about wiggling in between people and claiming the spot right next to Dorian. maybe a little too close, but that's just how he does.

Dorian touched his back once, and he's feeling great right now, so that's obviously enough reason to sidle right on up, making himself comfy. have things been awkward lately, with all the crying and pity? he doesn't seem to remember it.

and yeah, he definitely reeks of booze--different kinds. and different people, and smoke, and dancing.]

Are you having fun? Isn't this place great?

[serpentis]

[Dorian considers the situation. Nel was attractive, but...it would be wrong, he thought, to take advantage of him. How easy it would be to just wrap Nel around his finger, and the thought was like an instinct. It was tempting, but...wrong.

Still, while he was with Nel, he could watch over him, make sure he didn't get into too much trouble, at least. Dorian nods softly, turning back to his drink.]

It's is...certainly a change from the past few weeks. A welcome one. I missed the taste of alcohol.

[catamite]

[he grins like nothing bad has ever happened to him. and it might have been believable if he didn't also have that dark-eyed look that comes with missing sleep. one little boost to the good chemicals in his brain is all he needs to push the past few weeks to the back of his mind, completely out of the way.]

Ugh, you should have seen that first planet. Did you hear about it? With the big party, and all the... they had, like, skulls painted on their faces. It was crazy.

[and then, fast as the thought hits him, he blurts out another question.]

Do you like dancing?

[serpentis]

I did not hear about it. Sounds curious, not entirely different from Orlais, perhaps.

[Dorian chuckles at the question, and shrugs a bit.]

I am capable, and I know how. Whether I enjoy it is entirely dependent of if my feet are being stepped on, or not.

[catamite]

Do you mean, like... fancy dancing? Because I'm talking about real dancing.

In a big group, lots of people all jumping around and having fun, like--

[and here's where he puts his arms up a little in the limited bit of space he has, and bops in place for a couple of seconds to demonstrate.]

[serpentis]

[Dorian watches him, and he laughs softly.]

What? You call that dancing? Egad.

Is that what is dancing on your world? It's...spirited, I'll give it that.

adsum :>

[noherald]

[It's all so strange.

In all fairness, so has the rest of his life been, ever since the Conclave-- really, he shouldn't have been surprised-- but at least all the other strangeness had been in Thedas. There had been some familiarity there, a framework he knew. Here, though? All Arhen can really say for it is that it's not the ship, not so cramped.

So he's been exploring since they arrived, a little aimlessly, just seeing what catches his eye... and when something does, it makes him stop dead in his tracks for a moment. That's a figure he knows, he's sure of it, he just needs to get a look at his face--

Dorian will find a short, redheaded elf suddenly appearing at his side, leaning around to peer up at him with wide and disbelieving eyes; he reaches out to take hold of Dorian's arm, hoping to stop him there.]

Dorian? Vhenan- they brought you here, too?

[There's no way it isn't him, he knows that face, but- there are all sorts of tricks, aren't there?]

[serpentis]

[Dorian does stop, and looks down at the elf. He has tattoos on his face, so there's a chance he's from the Fleet. Has he simply not seen him yet? Curious. And he clearly knows him, but as much as Dorian thinks about it, even for only a few moments, he can't place him, exactly.

He calls him something in Elvish, and something tells him what it means. If he wasn't being strangled by his own heart as the phrase comes directly to his mind- heart, a term of affection- he might think it curious that the translation came so fast. Instead there's confusion.]

Vhen-

[Dorian tilts his head a bit, looking down at him. He looks him over again. There was something oddly charming about him.]

Pardon, have we met? I'd like to think I'd remember a face as charming as yours.

[noherald]

[Have we met. That makes his heart sink just as fast as it had lifted, and he barely stops himself from telling Dorian that's a terrible, terrible joke-- the lack of recognition's clear in the way he looks at him, and he wouldn't have gone that far.]

...I'm sorry, I- knew someone who looked like you. It must be a coincidence.

[If Dorian somehow doesn't know him, then what good would it do to tell him that no, he should be familiar? He'd sound mad. Instead, he forces an apologetic smile (if a rather thin one).]

Arhen, formerly of clan Lavellan.

[He can't quite bring himself to say pleased to meet you to Dorian, of all people. Pleased to see him, absolutely, but it's hardly a meeting.]

[serpentis]

[And that is a mystery. He thinks over it, and he feels himself almost strangled by hope.

Lavellan. Clan Lavellan.

Dorian of all people knows that timelines are precarious things. One small movement here can change a thousand futures. And it's not necessarily linear. Time is a curious thing. Arhen could be from his future, for all he knows.

For what he knows now, the elf excited to see him, calling him something that he knows has more meaning than simply words, he could have been his future.

There are so many questions to ask, and he looks down at the hand on his arm, almost burning his skin despite his clothes.

So many questions, and he can barely bring himself to ask one.]

...perhaps it would be best if we went over this one point at a time. How do you know me?

[noherald]

[He isn't simply assuming it's a coincidence? Arhen blinks up at him, the confusion clearly written in his expression-- the man doesn't know him, but he's accepting that the opposite's true?

Still- curiosity is a much better sign than if Dorian had written him off as being mistaken. They've seen plenty of strange things before.

(Maybe this is something he can fix.)]

I don't suppose you remember working with the Inquisition?

[Question for a question, Dorian. It's an answer in its own right.]

[serpentis]

I do, quite clearly. We were just getting cozy in Skyhold, before I was brought here. There is...are you recently arrived? I've found that we're all scattered a bit across different timelines.

[His mind was trying to work out this puzzle, more than curious about him. Did he know Jove? How did they meet? It was all very strange, and curious, but nothing he couldn't sort out.]

[noherald]

Different timelines? Like what happened with Alexius-- did anything happen in Redcliffe, do you remember that?

[There it is. Now the confusion is beginning to fade, replaced with keen inquisitiveness, and the look he fixes Dorian with is sharp and intent. That shouldn't be possible, but then again-- a few days ago he would have said that traveling among the stars themselves wasn't possible, either.]

I- think you understand a good deal more of this than I do, Dorian. Explain, please.

[serpentis]

[He wants to shrug off the contact, but he doesn't, he just glances down at the elf. Curious. He was a mystery, once he wanted to know more about.]

I remember it very clearly.

[He almost asks for more information, but he is asked, and so he nods.]

We've been brought here to be watched, for entertainment. There are others from Thedas here...Varric, and Jove...but they are both from slightly different times than I was.

And there were others, old friends of Varric's.

There are also others from different worlds, here. Curious, but I'm still puzzling that all out and learning what I can.