ic inbox;; drift fleet

[fantachetic]

Comments

[samahl]

[Cyril steps in without protest.]

I think the day an Inquisitor Lavellan stops worrying about their friends will be a sad day indeed.

[fantachetic]

[ Dorian allows the door to close, following behind and offering the bottle of wine to him. ]

Friends. [ The word sounds surreal to his ears, and it feels like an echo. At the very least, he still has Cyril, doesn't he? Nevermind that he was unfairly cruel and pushed Leilani away. Perhaps he is a few sheets to the wind, but that's what makes the most logical sense to him. ]

[samahl]

Yes. Friends. The best of them, in fact.

[He comes closer and takes the wine, but doesn't do anything with it just yet.]

Or so I'm told. I didn't have many who meant anything before the Inquisition.

[He knows Dorian has often expressed the same feelings, and perhaps relating can help, though he isn't entirely sure how to navigate a situation like this.]

[fantachetic]

Now that Felix is dead, I'm not quite certain what I'm left with.

[ None, by his calculations. ..Yes, he's definitely drunk, now. Dorian sits on the bed, watching in the floor that he finds fascinating. ]

[samahl]

For now, you have me?

[He offers. He tilts his head a bit, trying to look at Dorian's face but in an unobtrusive way.]

I'm yours for as long as we're both here.

[fantachetic]

[ He can't think of what to say- nothing eloquent comes to mind, and it's getting rather difficult not to sound like a simpleton. ]

I..Thank you.

[samahl]

[Cyril moves to sit with Dorian and settles a hand on his leg.]

I will be here any time you need me, to offer a distraction, to talk, to sit here in silence. You tell me what you want.

[fantachetic]

[ Dorian huffs, shaking his head. He's not entirely certain what he wants. Mostly, he'd like to drink some more, but he can't exactly do that with company. He would much rather not be a sloppy drunk in front of Cyril. Instead, he simply leans against him, resting his head upon Cyril's shoulder. ]

This is sufficient.

[samahl]

[Cyril shifts his arm to wrap his arm around Dorian.]

Then this is where I'll be.

[fantachetic]

[ It's not an entirely bad place to be, all things considered. He could be drinking himself into a stupor. Alone. Perhaps not the best choice, but he's so remarkably good at it by now.

An arm slides around him and he returns the favor. Yes, this is favorable for now. ]