Dorian, if it's not too much trouble could I ask you to look over something for me?
It's not working the way I want it too and I could use another pair of eyes. Preferably a pair of beautiful eyes that belong to a well educated man. You fit the bill perfectly.
[ When Dorian returns to his room next his door is painted. Across the entire height is a swirling snake, mostly white - but the edges of its scales are coloured with a brighter, warm purple, almost lilac. The most notable feature of the snake is it's eye, that's decorated in an incredibly familiar shape. At the bottom of the door begins a swirling pattern of delicately painted flames; they're a bit off, some a little misshapen, but the attempt is there. ]
[ It's certainly a surprise. At first, he thought he was at someone else's door and had miscalculated somehow. That's when he really sees what he's looking at, and he doesn't know of anyone else who could have done something quite like this. The snake may be a given, and maybe the flames licking the bottom edge of the door, because he is still a mage, after all. The style of the eye is what really gives it away. There's no mistaking the borrowed heraldry of the Inquisition, and there's only one other person he even talked to about the painted doors.
The fact that she went through the trouble to do something like this for him makes his heart swell, and he can't stop the fond smile. It's still very clearly his room on the inside, but now the outside matches. Pulling out his communicator, he snaps a photo and sends it to Leilani with a simple text. ]
[ There are some perks to being Dorian Pavus' shipmate, and one of those perks is knowing when he's around and when he isn't. The moment he's gone, Leilani takes the opportunity to slip into his room to leave some presents - she doubts anyone will question her about invading his space when, it seems, so many of them think they're romantically entangled.
At the top of the box is a wrapped up scarf, folded neatly. Below it is an equally well folded shirt and waistcoat, with flimsy purple paper around them to protect them from the rest of the gifts. Below that is a pair of gloves, which seems to be the end of the fashion selection, if only because Leilani isn't entirely sure Dorian would approve of all the things she decided that he would look good in.
Wrapped in two small boxes are a ring and an earring. Beside them, in it's own little box, is a journal, and the first page has something written on it in Leilani's careful handwriting:
Aneth ara, ma vhenas.
I have been told that this time of year is for celebrating family, the people you love, the friends you have kept at your side. It is a time for reminding those that you know that you care about them, that they are important to you, that they are special. I feel as though, perhaps, this should be done throughout the year, but I'm not here to speak ill of shemlem customs. Not today, at least.
I know that you do not know me as the Inqusitior that you fought beside for many years, but that has not stopped you from showing your kindness and your friendship over the last few months. It has been difficult, for the both of us, I think, to relearn what it means to be friends with one another, but I don't think that I would have been able to survive this place on my own. Having you at my side, even as we learn how to be friends once more, has been a gift I could never have expected. I have been blessed by your company, by your wisdom and your humour, and I could never ask for anything else.
I am lucky, I think, to have you at my side, to have you as my friend, to have you willing to listen to me even when I am certain it is too much.
What I want, if this is the time of year to admit it, is to tell you how very important you are. You are a strong, brave man, Dorian, and I am glad to have you as a friend. I am glad to know you, and better for it, in the end, because you are what is good in the world. You are proof that there is hope for the future, not just for your homeland but for the people of the world, too. I hope you recognise what a wonderful man you are and how highly I value your friendship and your confidence.
[ Leilani has been asleep for a few days - not that she's aware of course, but it's true all the same - and when she wakes up her head hurts. There's an awkwardness that settles over her, and she wiggles her arms a little before... Ah. She can feel the loss of the one with the Anchor, weightless and phantom limbed, and even the sudden rush of memories of the Fleet aren't enough to dampen the thick weight of knowledge. She had gone back, and Solas had been there, and she had lost so much.
Slowly, she pushes herself up, using her one hand to rub at her eyes absently, trying to make sense of suddenly being thrust back into the strange world of space travel. ]
[ He was assured that she would wake up, after it was clear she wouldn't under her own power- this sort of thing was common in the fleet, though it feels anything but. Instead, Dorian keeps a near, constant vigil over her, sitting on his own bed pushed up against hers, or in the uncomfortable desk chair on his side of the room, eyes glancing upward at her every so often. Just in case, he told himself.
The first few days passed in much the same fashion, she breathed, stirred a bit, but nothing would wake her. Books kept him occupied enough, and he was loathe to leave her in the off-chance she awoke while he was out. Nights were rather sleepless, caught worrying rather than sleeping even though common sense told him all would be well. One such occasion that sleep does take him, it's broken not long after it starts like something from a nightmare.
With a scream.
It's a blood-curdling, painful thing that lurches him upward and fills his stomach with knots and makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. What he sees is even worse. Leilani thrashes about, screams ripping from her throat and the arm that has the anchor is an acrid, pulsing green. Not only that, it looks like the arm is melting, though there is no smell of burning flesh and nothing left- it simply vanishes before his eyes in a macabre display as he tries to collect her in his arms to keep her still and rouse her.
His plan backfires painfully when she expels magic in all directions, knocking him across the room and throwing him bodily into the desk in the surprise. As much as he should have expected something, he was blindsided. He's only got himself to blame. The screaming stops as he's slumped in the corner, gathering himself enough to just get back up when he hears her voice calling out to him. ]
Leilani.. [ The one word is breathless as he heaves himself up quickly and moves to her side. Ignore the way his hands tremble as they grasp her one remaining hand. It's nothing! ]
[Yeah, he doesn't waste time leaving the lab to find Dorian in the bridge. He knows that he hasn't heard the full story of what happens in the future from Riona, but he thought he knew enough.
Mages and Templars fight. Innocents suffer. But here's Dorian saying that something happens in Redcliffe. After what occurred during the Fifth Blight, Alistair is more than just a little sensitive about the place where he grew up.]
Dorian, I'm here. And I have more than a few questions.
[ Dorian is exactly where he said he would be, spinning his chair so that he can sit in full view of Alistair, crossing his legs. He's aware that he's more than a little biased when it comes to the treatment of mages, but he concedes that they'd gotten in over their head.
Forging an alliance with Tevinter wasn't the best of ideas for them, but when backed into a corner as they had been, what other choice did they seem to have? He'd been in the future that they stopped from happening, and by all accounts it would have been disastrous.
Only it hadn't been because he and the Inquisitor were there to stop it. ]
Yes, I imagine you might. I presume that it is in a future that has yet to happen for you.
[ It's a few days after her evening with Justice that Leilani finds her way back to Dorian. It's a familiar routine now, changing into some clothes that are far too big for her - a mixture of his and a shirt she may well have stolen from Justice himself. She slips into his room and makes her way over to his bed, immediately sticking her hands up under his shirt just in case her entrance hadn't woken him up. ]
[ They've been staying in one of the houses on the planet, and being all together like this while also having different rooms has been pleasant. It's strange having his own room again, but Leilani certainly needs her space while attempting to get closer to Justice. He's been floating between sleep and wakefulness when his door opens and disturbs it. Instead of turning to see who it was, he tries to stay settled and comfortable, which was his mistake. Fingers as cold as death press against the warm skin of his back and he lets out a startled gasp. ]
[ Hearing Ander's announcement had been like taking several punches to the gut. Wolfe had been a friend, and Fenris... well, if he was perfectly honest with himself, he had come as close to loving Fenris as he had anybody. They had been lovers, friends, and he had cared for the other in a way he so rarely let himself. For this reason.
For this aching, throbbing pain in his chest, the boiling anger that had no real target, no real outlet. Screaming did no good, and he was to much a captain to let such emotion show. Besides, what was the point? He couldn't do anything about it, and it wasn't his fault. It was no one's fault. It was just life in the Fleet...
At some point he had found himself at the bar, calling for a drink, nursing it because drinking away his sorrows was probably not productive, but damn if it didn't sound like a good plan. Even if the bar was pretty empty... ]
[ Leilani has missed Dorian horrendously, but there's some hesitation as she creeps her way onto his ship and makes her way to his room. She's got a bottle of wine in her hand and she makes her way through to his room, knocking on the door with a quiet tap tap tap of her knuckles. ]
[ He desperately needs to transfer- the atmosphere isn't the same, and his quarters still seem barren. Of course it's nothing to do with the trappings of the room. It will always feel empty. There's little for him here, and he spends his days much as he had before- reading what was available to him.
The knock on his door has him looking up, and his heart soars hearing the voice on the other side. Naturally, he gets up to answer it, holding it open for Leilani. ]
You know you don't need to announce yourself, don't you?
[Sometime after the fight Dorian had with Leilani there's a gentle knock on the door. Cyril could have reached out via network, but Leilani had asked him to make sure Dorian was all right.
It's much too easy to fake being all right on the network, as he well knows.]
[ Dorian isn't expecting anyone after his argument with Leilani. No, it was more like beratement, rubbing her face in her own mistakes like his own smell of roses. As soon as she shut the door, he wanted to follow her and make it all right, but his own pride makes him stop. It's likely she'll never want to speak to him again, and he's not certain how to handle that.
It's very likely that even if Cyril had reached out via network, he wouldn't have replied. His focus is solely on getting entirely, obscenely shitfaced in the wake of his own foolishness. He's working his way through a second bottle, sitting morosely at his desk when the knock startles him out of his focus. Or lack thereof. He's not certain any longer.
When he opens the door, Dorian is perhaps more disheveled than he normally allows. His hair is a mess going in all directions, a side effect of running his hands through it as he thought about what he'd done. The pair of sleep pants and sweater at least suggests that he had absolutely no intention of leaving his quarters in his state. Despite his appearance, he puts on a seductive smile that doesn't have quite as much bravado behind it. ]
[ Receiving half a text immediately before the communicators are flooded with the repeating emergency message followed by nothing but radio silence did nothing for Dorian's nerves. No one seemed to know what was going on, just that something was happening on the waystation. Not being able to get into contact with Bull was worrisome, and he felt a certain way about being stuck in stasis waiting for the situation to end itself. It makes him antsy. An entire day of not knowing goes by, and by then, Dorian is practically vibrating out of his skin. ]
What happened? We were unable to make contact with anyone.
[ It comes instantly after the text comes through, answering Bull's question without needing to state the obvious. Of course he's up. ]
[It's like the middle of the night, but he woke up, and there might have been a scream. He was alone, that's good. Maybe? Look, he's going to try to not sound freaked out. Maybe he should have just texted.]
...Dorian? Hey. Uh...I don't know what's going on, but...if you could wake up, that could pretty awesome.
[ Dorian is asleep when the call comes through, but he jerks awake at the sound of his name. He blindly reaches for the communicator on his bedside table, grunting sleepily that he's there as he tries to wake up fully. ]
[ Living with Dorian again is marvellous and Leilani doesn't waste time; as soon as Justice's broadcast is live and she's visited she makes her way back to the ship. It's later than she'd like, but it doesn't stop her from slipping into his room (not before checking the handle) and making her way inside. ]
[ Nothing illicit is going on, Dorian is merely sitting in bed sans makeup, seeing to it that his hands are perfectly manicured. Of course he's not asleep- it's much too early, but late enough that a trip to the bar seems silly. Dorian looks up from his task as she enters, a warm smile on his face. ]
To what do I owe the pleasure of your radiance tonight?
[Sometimes the only way to get Dorian to do anything is to drag him, kicking and screaming, to do the thing you want him to do, and eventually he realizes he likes it. After he heard about the hot springs, Bull was dead set on Dorian liking that particular thing.
Now the trick was going to be convincing him to travel through a lot of ice and snow to get there. First stop? The Blue Fish, to retrieve his tiny, cold-hating boyfriend. At this point, his feet follow the trek from the docking bay to Dorian's quarters as if by instinct, and he raps his knuckles on the door frame to get the mage's attention.]
[ He would commend the Bull for his attempt were the planet below them not so frigid and vulgar in its existence. While pretty to look at, the cold and wind weren't to be trifled with. Dorian is indeed in his quarters wearing a ridiculously thick sweater with fingerless gloves that match whilst sitting in bed, under all of his blankets. He's got a book in hand, which he lowers enough to raise a dubious eyebrow at Bull, the corner of his mouth twitching. ]
You are out of your mind if you think I am going out in that hideous weather.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text
text
text
text 1/2
text 2/2
text
text
text
text
text
text
text
text
text
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
text (back in orbit)
Re: text (back in orbit)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
text
text
Barring that, tell me your news.
text
text
text
text 1/2
text 2/2
text
text
text
text
text
text
text
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
text
It's not working the way I want it too and I could use another pair of eyes. Preferably a pair of beautiful eyes that belong to a well educated man. You fit the bill perfectly.
text
I can meet you on your ship if you would prefer.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
no subject
The fact that she went through the trouble to do something like this for him makes his heart swell, and he can't stop the fond smile. It's still very clearly his room on the inside, but now the outside matches. Pulling out his communicator, he snaps a photo and sends it to Leilani with a simple text. ]
Thank you.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
At the top of the box is a wrapped up scarf, folded neatly. Below it is an equally well folded shirt and waistcoat, with flimsy purple paper around them to protect them from the rest of the gifts. Below that is a pair of gloves, which seems to be the end of the fashion selection, if only because Leilani isn't entirely sure Dorian would approve of all the things she decided that he would look good in.
Wrapped in two small boxes are a ring and an earring. Beside them, in it's own little box, is a journal, and the first page has something written on it in Leilani's careful handwriting:
this is my inbox now
no subject
[ He loves you, but there is envy. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
action.
Slowly, she pushes herself up, using her one hand to rub at her eyes absently, trying to make sense of suddenly being thrust back into the strange world of space travel. ]
... Dorian?
action.
The first few days passed in much the same fashion, she breathed, stirred a bit, but nothing would wake her. Books kept him occupied enough, and he was loathe to leave her in the off-chance she awoke while he was out. Nights were rather sleepless, caught worrying rather than sleeping even though common sense told him all would be well. One such occasion that sleep does take him, it's broken not long after it starts like something from a nightmare.
With a scream.
It's a blood-curdling, painful thing that lurches him upward and fills his stomach with knots and makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. What he sees is even worse. Leilani thrashes about, screams ripping from her throat and the arm that has the anchor is an acrid, pulsing green. Not only that, it looks like the arm is melting, though there is no smell of burning flesh and nothing left- it simply vanishes before his eyes in a macabre display as he tries to collect her in his arms to keep her still and rouse her.
His plan backfires painfully when she expels magic in all directions, knocking him across the room and throwing him bodily into the desk in the surprise. As much as he should have expected something, he was blindsided. He's only got himself to blame. The screaming stops as he's slumped in the corner, gathering himself enough to just get back up when he hears her voice calling out to him. ]
Leilani.. [ The one word is breathless as he heaves himself up quickly and moves to her side. Ignore the way his hands tremble as they grasp her one remaining hand. It's nothing! ]
action.
After Alistair's broadcast
Mages and Templars fight. Innocents suffer. But here's Dorian saying that something happens in Redcliffe. After what occurred during the Fifth Blight, Alistair is more than just a little sensitive about the place where he grew up.]
Dorian, I'm here. And I have more than a few questions.
no subject
Forging an alliance with Tevinter wasn't the best of ideas for them, but when backed into a corner as they had been, what other choice did they seem to have? He'd been in the future that they stopped from happening, and by all accounts it would have been disastrous.
Only it hadn't been because he and the Inquisitor were there to stop it. ]
Yes, I imagine you might. I presume that it is in a future that has yet to happen for you.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
action
Dorian...
action
Vishante kaffas, why are your hands so cold?
action
action
action
action
action
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
After Ander's Announcement about Fenris - In Whichever Bar
For this aching, throbbing pain in his chest, the boiling anger that had no real target, no real outlet. Screaming did no good, and he was to much a captain to let such emotion show. Besides, what was the point? He couldn't do anything about it, and it wasn't his fault. It was no one's fault. It was just life in the Fleet...
At some point he had found himself at the bar, calling for a drink, nursing it because drinking away his sorrows was probably not productive, but damn if it didn't sound like a good plan. Even if the bar was pretty empty... ]
crystal
Dorian, do you have a moment?
crystal
[ Cyril will hear the sound of a book closing and being placed on a tabletop. ]
Shall I make my way to your quarters?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
action
I brought a present!
action
The knock on his door has him looking up, and his heart soars hearing the voice on the other side. Naturally, he gets up to answer it, holding it open for Leilani. ]
You know you don't need to announce yourself, don't you?
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
action
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
action
It's much too easy to fake being all right on the network, as he well knows.]
action
It's very likely that even if Cyril had reached out via network, he wouldn't have replied. His focus is solely on getting entirely, obscenely shitfaced in the wake of his own foolishness. He's working his way through a second bottle, sitting morosely at his desk when the knock startles him out of his focus. Or lack thereof. He's not certain any longer.
When he opens the door, Dorian is perhaps more disheveled than he normally allows. His hair is a mess going in all directions, a side effect of running his hands through it as he thought about what he'd done. The pair of sleep pants and sweater at least suggests that he had absolutely no intention of leaving his quarters in his state. Despite his appearance, he puts on a seductive smile that doesn't have quite as much bravado behind it. ]
Cyril? To what do I owe the delightful surprise?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
text;
[Asks the guy who knows nothing about what's transpired between anyone.]
text;
If by dry, I assume you are referring to academia as opposed to works of fiction?
[ That's a yes. ]
Re: text;
text;
Re: text;
text;
Re: text;
text;
text;
text;
text;
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
text; parts 1 + 2
You're a comms officer right? Things are ass over teakettle down here. I'm helping sort it out. Tell the others-
A little over 24 hours later...
That was shit. I'm sorry for worrying you. Are you up?
Re: text; parts 1 + 2
What happened? We were unable to make contact with anyone.
[ It comes instantly after the text comes through, answering Bull's question without needing to state the obvious. Of course he's up. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
text. my inbox domination continues
bring it on
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
2/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
text; just assume it's sometime after the suit thread...I mean obviously
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
action »
action »
action »
action »
action »
action »
action »
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
audio;
...Dorian? Hey. Uh...I don't know what's going on, but...if you could wake up, that could pretty awesome.
audio;
What's wrong?
audio;
audio;
audio;
audio;
audio;
audio;
audio;
audio;
audio;
Re: audio;
Re: audio;
...
...
...
...
action.
Dorian?
action.
To what do I owe the pleasure of your radiance tonight?
action.
action.
action.
action.
action.
action.
action.
action.
action.
action.
action.
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
voice
[He starts and feels entirely too sober for this]
Can we talk?
voice
[ Ah yes, the dreaded phrase. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
action;
Now the trick was going to be convincing him to travel through a lot of ice and snow to get there. First stop? The Blue Fish, to retrieve his tiny, cold-hating boyfriend. At this point, his feet follow the trek from the docking bay to Dorian's quarters as if by instinct, and he raps his knuckles on the door frame to get the mage's attention.]
Hey there, big guy. Field trip time.
action;
You are out of your mind if you think I am going out in that hideous weather.
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
voice
Are you available?
voice
Is this topic best discussed over wine?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)