driftfleet | [Open Moons Mingle Log]

Accendo.

[You know what Dorian didn't need? More incentive to drink. You know what he got? More incentive to drink.

Most nights, he can be found at a bar before returning to a rented room.]

Adsum.

[Dorian's made a reputation for himself among the locals, and spends many of his days here, working odd jobs where he can find them, putting his mind to working on a reputation, anything to keep him busy, maneuvering himself around as if this were all just a great chess board.

He has to keep budy. If he does not, he has a moment to think about Arhen. He should contact him, he thinks, or...something. He's not certain what to do, fairly lost and confused.]

abeo jail

[ she just wanted some twelve-damned meat and popotoes!

but apparently her monk attire is "too flashy" and her hair is "vain". so, in the meantime, she sits in jail with a big pout--every now and then, she gives an aggravated grunt. ]

Honestly... I can hardly control the color of my hair. I certainly am not dying it! [ she sighs and hops off the little bench, wandering over to the bars and rattling them before shouting; ]

Being pretty is not a crime, Twelve preserve! I'll be sure to get off your moon if you'd let me go!

Not much excitement around here anyway.

adsum bar

--the equation for summons is completely different. The balance of aether has to be just right.

[ in different garb (arcanist) and with her hair down, allu writes in her book, particles of light surrounding her before she summons carbuncle, the blue creature sniffing at her book and looking around at the crowd around her. the crowd oohs and ahhs; there's something easy about being a warrior of light and gaining attention. she's not much of a spotlight hogger, but after a brief stint in jail, she'd like to enjoy herself.

... she'd also prefer booze. but, this bubbly fruity drink will also work.

of course, when she spots someone off the fleet--it's really easy to tell them from the natives--she waves them over. ]

Come now, I can't be the only one with a good story!

[Of course Fenris is here, it's where he goes, as of an evening, and he often sees Dorian. Usually, he leaves the mage to himself, unless Dorian chooses to speak to him. But there's something...off about the other man.

Fenris isn't concerned, that;s what he tells himself. He just knows an upset mage can cause untold damage. That there could be a fire, or a lightning strike or anything of that ilk. These are the things he tells himself as he wanders over. ]

You are much quieter tonight.

[Irony, indeed, that Fenris has experienced this exact thing as Dorian, not that he knows it yet. ]

I am...trying to find words, I suppose.

[Dorian laughs, bitterly, and takes a drink.]

I'm hoping they're at the bottom of my glass. I've been looking all night, but to no avail.

[It's true, he is quieter tonight. Dorian is usually a lively man, teasing and making conversation with whoever will listen to him. But tonight he just sits there, the face of Arhen Lavellan in his mind, and his voice echoing through his thoughts.

He should have done something, anything, but instead, he ran.]

Ah. I have found they are rarely to be seen in such a place, though you deserve a little admiration for trying.

[He almost asks "what's wrong?" but that's...too much concern on his part, he thinks. He doesn't want Dorian getting any ideas that they're friends or anything. ]

I have not known you long, but I never would have thought you to be one lost for words.

[Dorian is quiet, for a moment, and drinks. He gestures to the seat next to him.]

Sit, if you wish, while I try to arrange my thoughts.

[And he falls quiet, again, thinking of Arhen, wondering what it would be like to kiss him, and if he would ever know.

He hadn't even fallen in love, and already his heart was wounded.]

The Dalish have a turn of phrase, ma vhenan, much like we from Tevinter might call a lover amatus if we truly cared for them.

[He took a drink.]

A man arrived and called me just that, last night. His heart, he called me. It would seem that he knew me, in another world. And quite well, I would assume.

[Fenris sits, as always not too close, but near enough to listen, which he does so quietly and patiently. When Dorian finishes, he sits back, his brow furrowed. This...this sounds far too familiar.]

And I take it you do not know him at all?

[Dorian shakes his head softly, and takes a drink.]

I have never met him. I suspect perhaps it is because he doesn't exist in my world. That is to say, when I was researching the manipulation of time, with magic, I theorized that perhaps there might be different realities that can occur from one event. It's why one sometimes encounters rifts where this magic is used- it's not simply punching a hole in the fabric of time, but...

[He catches himself, and scoffs.]

Ah, listen to me go on. But no, I did not know him. In his world, he was the leader of the band of misfits I found myself joined up with, much like how Jove was our leader in mine.

[Fenris blinks, then lets out a weird, self-deprecating laugh, leaning forward again on the table. Really, what were the chances of that happening again? Higher than he thought, that's for certain. Poor bastard.

...Or he could be laughing at Dorian's misery. It probably looks that way.]

[Dorian falls silent, and then frowns, glass in hand, looking over to Fenris and furrowing his brows.]

I knew you didn't care for me overly much, but you don't need to laugh at my misfortune.

[He tries to make it sound teasing, but he can't quite put the warmth into his voice. Instead, he sighs, and takes another drink.]

[Fenris waves his hand for a moment, letting out another 'heh', before composing himself.]

I am sorry, I'm not laughing at you just the...situation.

[He sits back again, exhales.]

This has happened to me, with Hawke. Well, with a Hawke. In the place I was before here, Exsilium.

Edited 2015-02-09 00:44 (UTC)

[He's more an assassin than a bounty hunter, but one adapts as one must. Besides, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying himself-- ever since the week began, he's been having more and more fun hunting down this smuggler and that, thrilling in the chase, the fear in his victim's eyes, the bloody fight and eventual conquering . . . it's thrilling, even if most are wanted alive.

Alive, yes, but not unbeaten, and so most are a bloody mess when Garak brings them in. He isn't, of course, because most of them are skinny things, hardly a worthy opponent-- but oh, it feels good to fight. It feels good to cut skin and smell blood and cause fear with only a smile. He's made a tremendous amount of money this past week, more than he thought he would--

--but now there's this target. Garak doesn't need to take him down, but he wants to. The man has a guard, a slim figure Garak recognizes, and oh, but his blood sings when he thinks of taking him down as well.

He waits until it's nightfall before approaching. The man has entered a bar, but Garak calls out before Tek can follow:]

My dear.

[Dorian tilted his head a bit, considering it, and nodded softly.]

And what became of it?

[With how Fenris spoke of Isabela, he can hazard a guess. Fenris had never mentioned Hawke before.

Still, Dorian was almost holding onto the foolish hope that maybe, somehow, this could work. Maybe he wouldn't be alone, if even only in some other world.]

Nothing. The Hawke I know, he and I do not get along at all. This Hawke... she saw me as a friend, as a lover. It was... a lot to deal with.

[Of course, he'd noticed the Hawke from his Kirkwall, too. But after the man shacked up with Anders, well, that was game over, really.]

Perhaps if the war had lasted longer, something may have come of it. Perhaps if I was less of a coward and dealt with it better. As it was, she kissed me goodbye and left for her Kirkwall, for her Fenris. I headed to my own Kirkwall, ended up here, and that was that.

[This is what happens when you look to Fenris for foolish hopes, really. ]

It broke her heart, having me so near but so far. It broke mine to see it.

[Dorian falls silent, thinking it over, turning the ideas over in his mind. They're like gems in a polisher, turned over and over until the sediment was gone, and he had to think on them for a bit.

He takes a drink.]

Do you regret it? Not having that with her, not truly getting to know her? Knowing that she was the same and yet, completely different? Knowing that you couldn't be the same man, though not out of malice, out of simple circumstance?

[Fenris falls silent, trying to find the right words for his answer. It was one of the many things he has hated Exsilium for. For showing him that in another life, he is happy. That he is loved and is in love. For him, it is a concept as distant as impossible as flying.]

At times. As far as she was concerned, I was the same man, little had changed about me. It was like looking into a window of another life. One that was apparently infinitely better. I just did not have the courage to claim it for my own.

[Dorian feels quiet, numb. He wishes he could scream, could laugh, could storm out into the night and confront Arhen, sit him down, see if they can find something like that, together.

Dorian is alone, and that's the truth of it. He's been alone forever, it seems. He has known intimacy, but has never known emotional closeness. And the thought that it could be right there waiting for him is as terrifying as it is heartening.]

A life where you were not alone, where someone might have loved you, in spite of your scars and bruises.

[He takes another drink, but his words are as much for himself as they are for Fenris.]

[It's the emotional part of it that terrified Fenris. Intimacy is easy, when it is physical and there are no words of love, no promises of togetherness. It is what drew him to Isabela in the first place. No, love was something else. Danarius had used it as a weapon against him, just another chain to keep him close. The thought of someone loving him, with no ulterior motive is alien to him.

He isn't certain he'd deserve it, if he got it. ]

It is cruel. What these places do, showing us these things, these could-have-beens. I do not envy your position, and I wish I could give you worthwhile advice in dealing with the matter.

[All that Dorian knows is that he wants to know love- it was why he left Quarinus. To be true to himself, not to content himself with living a lie. He traveled on the hope that some day, somewhere out there, love might find him.

It frightened him, and he didn't know what he would do with it when he found it. Only that it was what he wanted, almost as desperately as one wanted for air while drowning.

In the end, he took a drink, and he laughed, more of a scoff.]

Ah, but can I, in good conscience, steal my own lover? That is certainly a quandary.

Thank you, Fenris. You've given me much to think on, more than you know.

[And it's true. Dorian doesn't want to live with those same regrets, knowing that Arhen slipped through his fingers, but he can't bring himself to trust to do anything just yet.]

That is, indeed, the quandary you have to face.

[It brings up the horrible considerations of how much you really disliked yourself, too. Fenris stands in one fluid movement.]

You are welcome. I will leave you to your thinking. Good luck, you will need it.

[Dorian says nothing more. Oh, he wants to say something, to slip back into the warm and friendly facade. He could compliment Fenris again, make another pass at him, but he can't even bring himself to do that.

It's all very close, and yet, far away. He pulls his communicator from a pocket and looks, not for the first time today, to see if there's any sign of Arhen.

But there is none.

Perhaps he dreamed him. Perhaps this other inquisitor, from a world he didn't know of, perhaps he is someone Dorian had simply imagined.

Stranger things have happened.

He can't tell if it's the whiskey anymore, but he laughs softly, covering his face with his numb fingers, because if he doesn't laugh, he might cry.

He would have to do something, have to act, but he has no idea where to put his feet. He's never tried to sort this out before.

And what if Arhen was just some fevered dream, brought on by hope. What was better- never seeing him again, never knowing him and going about life as usual, or having reached out for him and trying to stumble toward something called "together" and then losing him?

Life was fickle, other worlds even more so, it seemed.

Dorian finished his drink in one gulp, standing and walking with as much grace as he could manage out into the night, to go and sleep, alone again.]

[and Tek is out tonight for many of those very same reasons. he doesn't need the money. but he does need the activity, the chance to play, and this is one of his absolute most favorite games. every time he starts over somewhere new, this is always the mantle that he takes on first--usually hunting, but he's found that sometimes playing the role of guard means an even more interesting time.

he likes the thrill. he loves being underestimated, and he loves showing off. every once in a while, it's even a challenge, and those are often very hard to find.

so, when he hears Garak's voice behind him, he doesn't presume that they're both there for similar reasons... but, oh, he very much hopes.]

Oh... [when he pivots around to face him--so lazy about it, with hands in his pockets--he very quietly has his weight centered back on one foot.] ...What has you out this late? Looking for a drink?

[Well. That seems unfair. She doesn't even dye his hair!

Ludger does, so he feels like he kind of deserves this. But she doesn't! Frowning seriously, he tries to decide what to do.]

Do you want to break out?

abeo

[ This place is more dreary than he'd like, but it also has a lot of useful cooking things and Chris isn't going to pass up the chance to stock up. Although there aren't too many fruits, there's roots and veggies and, of course, plenty of meats in all sorts. While he's there, Chris is also looking into any sort of esoteric shops he can find to look for some more... eclectic ingredients for his own perusal. Mandragora root, maybe? Eye of newt? No?

With at least some products in hand, Chris wanders the moon for any familiar faces or odd ingredients and he's not really shy about either. ]

adsum

[ Next up is vanity. It's more than Chris expects and better than he could have hoped for. After wandering around for a while, he ends up in an open-air library that's absolutely gorgeous: trees to lounge under, piles of soft cushions to nest inside or appropriate for other seats, tables of smooth, hewn stone where the studious can fill their minds. Best of all are the walls made of tall bookshelves two stories high with gaps large enough not to block the air or sun.

Chris himself is laying propped up against one of the more modest trees with a pile of books next to him. He's obviously skimming for the best thing to spend his time on, an obviously relaxed pose contradicting his usual state of always tense or lost in thought. ]

Not quite.

[He takes a step forward, slow and deliberate, his own weight spread evenly between both feet. His hands are bare and free; his fingers twitch.]

I'm out hunting, in fact. Tracking down a rather notorious criminal. You wouldn't happen to know him, would you? David Crane?

[Open Moons Mingle Log] - Week 2

All Week [Accendo and Adsum]

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Accendo because we will just thread forever

and I will accept this as my fate, gladly.

good good, it's easier that way

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closed to tek;

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abeo

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