tɦɛ iɳquiรitѳʀ (freemarched) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-07-21 09:37:00 |
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Dorian had left the store early. He was still having trouble focusing on work related things, as his mind was off somewhere else. It was a good thing that he had hired some good employees as they were able to do what was necessary in his absence. He would have to make sure to give them raises once things got back to normal. For the time being, he would just have to try his best to keep himself from falling apart. On his way home, Dorian swung by the liquor store to get options for the evening and he also picked up some snacks. He hated himself, partially, for letting himself have feelings for Max; but he knew that he needed to keep himself in check if the man was coming over. This kind of thing was uncommon for Dorian; hell, he’d never dated much and somehow he’d been with Agron for some time and now, he was pining for a taken man. It wasn’t something he wanted others to find out because he wasn’t that kind of guy...the kind to fuck up another’s relationship. He even liked Nasir, and he was glad when the two started dating...but now that his own relationship had ended, things felt different. There was jealousy there but it’s not like Max and Dorian had ‘actually’ dated, right? Once he got home, he showered and threw on some comfortable clothing, seeing no need to dress too stylish. He was planning to stay in and no one could convince him otherwise...well, maybe Max could. Then, he wandered about his house, nursing a beverage, as he tidied up a bit. His home was never truly a mess but it was habit to make things look presentable, before turning on the tv and watching to pass the time till Max arrived. Staying in was probably a good idea. Dorian went out quite a bit, doing who knew what (yes, who - Max didn’t want to think about it) and so a night of slumming it by his standards wouldn’t hurt at all. With him, Trevelyan brought the sending crystal that he’d discovered on his bedside table one morning - he had it intact and whole, surprisingly, but then again the crystal itself wouldn’t work without the other enchanted piece. It seemed fitting somehow - Dorian was an important part of his life, and it wouldn’t feel right to not have him involved in at least some capacity. Not to mention he felt like his heart was being squeezed over the fact that Dorian hadn’t gotten a chance to reconcile with his father here, like how he had during the Inquisition - things hadn’t been an insta-fix with the two of them, those were the types of wounds you couldn’t just slap a bandaid on and call it a day, but Halward Pavus had apologized. He’d gotten to speak his peace, and it seemed Dorian had begun to traverse the path of forgiving him. Here? It appeared to be sudden and all that was left was a letter. Max didn’t know the whole situation either, between Dorian and his father and what their relationship had been like (just a few snippets) but maybe he could learn more, if Dorian wanted to talk it out. If not, well, he’d be patient. Patience was always required with someone like the Altus mage. Carrying the drawstring bag the crystal was in, Trevelyan went to the house and knocked on the door. Dorian had zoned out, lost in his thoughts, that hearing Max knock confused him for a second. The ice in his beverage had completely melted and his glass was still rather full; after a sigh, the man rose from his spot on the couch to answer the door. Opening it, as expected, Max was there. After a small smile, he opened the door further and gestured for his friend to step through. “Make yourself at home,” he finally said as he closed the door. “Can I get you a drink?” Dorian spoke, softly, but he was exhausted, still. Sleeping was something he didn’t want to do, given that he could dream about his father being dead...it was something he wasn’t ready for, not yet. It was still too soon. “Drink sounds good. I’ll have what you’re having,” Max returned the smile, reaching out with his good hand and brushing over Dorian’s arm, giving it a squeeze. He was due to consult with a doctor about a potential prosthetic arm for himself, the same doctor that had worked with Captain Hook of all people, for a very robotic-looking hand. And Max didn’t mind appearance, wasn’t so concerned with it - he just wanted something functional and if necessary, could use a glamour for his arm to make it look flesh and blood. The thought of a lyrium-infused prosthetic also continued to simmer in the back of his mind - he knew how Dorian felt about it (meaning, nothing good) but he’d have to see what Hawke thought too, maybe get his observations and the observations of the other mages from Thedas in Orange County. He settled on the sofa, in the trousers he’d actually gotten from Dorian’s store, and a button-down dress shirt that took far too long to actually button - no left arm, from the elbow down. “How’s everything with work? Did you take some time off?” Dorian made his way to the small bar that he had; when moving, he figured he’d be partying and drinking more, and made sure his new place had a bar area to suit his needs. As he fixed the man his drink, he kept glancing towards Max, wondering if the man was still thinking about messing around with lyrium. However, he didn’t want to argue with the man; Dorian didn’t think that he had that much energy in, quite honestly. “Works the same, as it has always been. As for time off, well, I’m trying to keep busy.” He didn’t need to get into another drunken stupor and destroy his own place, so he put forth all his energy into the store. “What about you? How’s the job?” he asked, as he walked over to Max, drink in hand. He set it on the table before seating himself next to the man. “It’s good. I’m back to regular sessions now, on the same schedule again - the cover story for non-dreamer patients is that a car accident was the cause of arm amputation so I had to take some time off. Not that I minded it. I needed a little bit to wrap my head around everything,” he confessed, taking the drink with a thanks. The glass was sipped from, as Max studied Dorian with those coffee-colored eyes, making sure that he wasn’t looking too haggard. But he looked good, as always. Maybe a little weary, but recent events would do that. Once he’d had a few sips, the warmth of alcohol sliding through his veins, he set the glass down (on a coaster, he was polite, rings were rude!) and reached into his pocket. The drawstring bag was opened as it rested on his thigh. “Hold out your hand,” he told Dorian. Dorian listened to his friend speak, finally taking sips of his watered down drink. Still, it was tolerable and there was no way that he could bring himself to throw away perfectly good alcohol. He caught Max looking at him and wondered what the man was thinking, but didn’t say anything, only took another sip from his glass. To the request, the mage raised an eyebrow. “Is this where you profess your undying love for me and present me with a ring?” he jested. He gave a chuckle and took a long drink, before doing as asked. “Fine, let’s get this over with.” Max had to laugh a little. “Relax, I’m not cutting off any limbs,” he assured. No, none of that - he simply placed the sending crystal in Dorian’s open palm, closing his fingers around it and holding on for a moment. The crystal itself was small, an oblong shape, the color a deep red. Now that Dorian actually had it, Trevelyan felt better. And maybe modern-day cell phones made such an enchanted object obsolete, in a way, but it was more what the trinket represented overall. “Instant communication with whomever has the other piece. You used to wear it in a locket, but - “ he shrugged. “It might not be the most fashionable thing now.” A joke, clearly. “But you’ll see what I mean if you ever dream past the Inquisition.” There was a good chance that Dorian wouldn’t - Max could see why he was hesitant to, but on the flip side he also thought it’d be positive for Dorian to see himself working so hard as a Magister to plant the seeds of change in his homeland. There was a lot to be proud of. “I wouldn’t put it past you...you may want someone to know your plight,” Dorian replied, a hint of sass to his voice. With the item in his hand, he stared at his hand before he opened up his hand to inspect the item. He brought it closer to his face, as Max explained it. “You know, we do have cell phones...maybe I’ll resort to this if I use up all my data,” he commented. Of course, that wouldn’t happen for Dorian, as he had an ‘unlimited’ data plan. Still, he closed his hand around it and looked over at Trevelyan, “But thank you...for this…” “You’re welcome.” Max had the other half with him; all you had to do was speak into it and, really, the idea of a sending crystal was a pretty ingenious thing. The sound of his voice wasn’t as good as being in the flesh, but while they were separated it had helped - and figured that Dorian would be familiar with its uses though. In Thedas, some of the best mages and the best applications of magic came from Tevinter, where the study and practice was encouraged rather than feared. But things were changing, especially with Leliana abolishing the Circles in her term as Divine, and turning them into true educational institutions instead as opposed to prisons. Trevelyan was actually curious as to how it’d all turn out in that regard. He shifted a little on the couch, lifting Dorian’s arm and wrapping it across his shoulders - Max leaned in for a cuddle, hand patting the space over Dorian’s chest where his heart beat steadily. The pompous mage liked a good cuddle, Trevelyan knew that at least. “Anything you want to talk about? Brazil, maybe?” His father? Max had a lot of questions there. Or it wouldn’t be discussed at all, but still, he’d leave the floor open regardless. Dorian had just set the crystal on the table, near his beverage before he found Max coming in for a cuddle. The man knew him well and he didn’t hesitate to cuddle with the Inquisitor. It felt so familiar, despite not having done it much here. Still, the memories of the dreams made this feel more real and Dorian figured he could enjoy the moment. He stiffened at the mention of Brazil, knowing that Max was hinting towards the death of Dorian’s father. He let out a sigh. “What of it? He’s dead…” A lot of therapists believed that ‘steps of grieving’ or grieving ‘normally’ were important - but it was often the case that getting those in mourning to dig deep and talk about their pain could do more than harm than good. Max didn’t really push grief counseling unless a client asked for help with that aspect - he wouldn’t push now either. “Just wondering what’s going on in here,” he said, fingertips brushing over Dorian’s temple. “Here too,” another pat above that big, squishy heart of his. “I’m not planning to interrogate you or anything. But he wrote you a letter - have you considered writing things down too?” Sometimes it helped to make sense of everything. Dorian glanced over to Max, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “You know how the brain works...and in case, you forgot...the heart pumps blood all over my body,” he said before taking another drink. “As for writing things down...I don’t need to do that. I get that this is your area of expertise but I just need time to process everything. I was already forced to talk about when I went home and I just don’t want to bring it up, again...not yet.” He sighed and took a drink. He hated closing himself off from Max but he wasn’t ready. “Maybe it’s my area of expertise overall but you’re a special case,” Max teased, leaning against Dorian while he drank - at least the lack of arm made it easier to couch-cuddle, because it meant less of that pins and needles feeling, when your opposite arm went numb. There was always the question of what to do with that arm, well, now he had that problem solved. His shoes were off so he felt better about pulling his legs up and putting his feet on the couch too - so he didn’t get words growled at him for dirtying up the furniture. “I won’t force you. Do you want me to tell you more about what happens, in dreamland? Something good?” There was trouble on the horizon, but progress being made too - he’d be happy to share that, if it was something to look forward to. “A special case...huh? Please...elaborate about that…” Dorian said, a sly smirk playing on the edge of his lips. His ego was kicking back in, at least; where he liked to hear people talk about him After another drink, he gently pushed Max away. “Can I see it?” he asked. His eyes settled on the man’s arm. It was interesting how they were both concerned for the other’s well-being, and right now, it seemed like it was only Max that took this much interest in Dorian’s life. He chuckled in an undertone, thinking about how to best put it into words. “Your brain works differently than everyone else’s, that’s all,” Trevelyan stated. “But that’s probably not a bad thing, or else you’d be a drone.” And he was about to elaborate, sort of, or perhaps make another snarky remark (they both had a penchant for such things) when Dorian nudged him away. Max sat up a bit, surprised that the question was being asked - because why would anyone want to see a stump of an arm? Not to mention he was a little self-conscious. “If you want to, you’re going to have to undo the buttons,” he said. “It took way too long to even get them done, in the first place.” He hadn’t quite mastered the art of one-handed everything, not yet. “Oh, does it? Maybe I should be studied,” he teased, nudging Max playfully. Dorian certainly wasn’t a drone and he liked knowing that he was different than everyone else. He was practically made to stand out from everyone else, or so he liked to think. “Only if you are okay with me undressing you,” Dorian teased. He didn’t want to make Max feel awkward, he’d feel bad. “It’s not a big deal to me if you don’t want me to see it.” He was sure that he’d get the chance to see it in the future, he just wanted to make sure that Max was ready for this. “I promise to not let my hands wander…” It was very unlikely Max would feel awkward around Dorian - he'd always been very comfortable with him, since the first time they met in this waking world. Like he'd known the man for years, which made sense the more he became immersed with the ways of Orange County and its magic. Rather, the loss of arm was a blow to his self-esteem and not only that, it was a reminder of what the Inquisitor had lost. His previous life, for one thing - he could never go back to his kinfolk, the way things were. His faith, he'd lost that too, and it had been a strong staple of being raised in the noble Trevelyan family. His arm was just one of the prices he paid, for making the choice to be the Inquisitor. That was a lot to face, a lot to come to terms with. However. "I don't mind, go ahead," he encouraged. Not like being without a shirt bothered him - it would be taken off for the doctor too; this wasn't anything scandalous. "It's just not the prettiest thing. I mean, there's not much scarring, but...an arm stump overall isn't attractive." “Of course it’s not the prettiest thing...I am,” the Tevinter mage replied, giving Max a wink. Slowly, he reached over and began to undo the man’s shirt. His eyes went from the shirt to the man’s face, “Does it hurt, ever?” Dorian was genuinely curious about how his friend was handling things. He’d never suffered this kind of injury and he wanted to make sure that his was taken care of. He took in a small breath, and finished undoing the buttons. Part of this felt intimate but he reminded himself to not let his thoughts go in that direction, before reaching to help slide off the shirt from the appropriate side. “Sometimes,” Max admitted, about whether or not it hurt. He did his part and helped shrug out of the shirt, now that the buttons were undone, revealing the arm that stopped short - apparently, it was better to have lost the limb from below the elbow (which he had) rather than above, based on the research he’d done already, so that was a good thing. Maybe. “It’s the phantom pain, but mostly it still feels like I have the Anchor. There’s a pain that shoots up through what’s left of my arm, and the shoulder, all across my chest. Like heartburn but...worse.” It was like heartburn mixed with a gallbladder attack and the memories of a thousand Thanksgiving dinners sitting on his chest, over his heart. The flare-ups of that kind of pain were not pleasant, shall we say. Ibuprofen had long since stopped being effective, but he usually just would grin and bear it. The last thing he needed was a painkiller addiction or something. “Sorry it looks awful,” he smiled slightly. Dorian, when Max dreamed, had been used to it though - the Trevelyan who visited Minrathous on occasion was also one-armed. They still did everything they’d done before, intimately, but sometimes Max just needed his partner to help hold him up a little, since he didn’t have two arms to balance his weight on. It had certainly worked, though. Dorian listened, and ‘inspected’ the limb. Gently, he reached out let his hand slide down the man’s arm and caressed where the arm ended. “Is this okay?” he asked, not wanting to harm the man, in the slightest. “It’s a shame that our magic can’t really do much to help ease the pain…” he said, as his touch continue to ghost over the man’s skin. “It doesn’t look awful...besides, now, I don’t have to worry about you looking better than me,” he teased, smirking. “But you still put up quite the challenge. It’s a shame you didn’t get a scar on your face.” He was joking and his tone made that clear; he would have been distraught if anyone harmed Max’s perfect face. Dorian was being so careful, like Max was made of glass - it was actually kind of sweet. “It’s okay,” he promised, the look in his eye fond, and very warm. “You’re not hurting me. As for the magic, I don’t know - maybe there is something. I certainly don’t know every spell.” And there were the sects that were never discussed, studied and learned in secret. Blood magic could do incredible things, like even regrow limbs, but it was dangerous to practice and took a lot of control to master - not to mention, if Dorian hated the idea of a prosthetic with lyrium breathing ‘life’ into it, he’d hate the idea of blood magic ten times more. Considering what his father had nearly done to him. “As if I’d ever look better than you. You don’t have to worry,” Trevelyan chuckled. “I’ll be fine though. The doctor will help fit me with a prosthetic, something functional.” He’d do what he always did, even in the dreams - he picked himself up, and kept right on going. Dorian let his touch linger on the man’s skin before he pulled his hand away, and went to put the man’s shirt back on. He wasn’t used to dressing up another man, in this manner. Sure, he’d pick out clothing for customers but he didn’t really do anything like this. “There is a magic guild...maybe consulting with them, could be useful,” he offered, as he began to button up Max’s shirt. “Who would have thought that I’d ever be helping you dress?” he added, before he reached to take a drink. “Let’s be honest...I normally help men take clothes off…” It had been some time since Dorian had been alone with a man, in a romantic sense. Hell, it was Agron and ever since then he just hadn’t been out in the clubs. Maybe he needed to change that. “Life’s funny sometimes, isn’t it?” Max adjusted the shirt when it was back on all the way, letting Dorian handle the buttons - it would go faster, with two hands. “I’ve heard of that Magic Guild, I think. Might even know a few people in it, but I suppose it’s worth an ask - there are a lot of mage types around here.” Organized groups tended to make him twitchy, but that was simply due to his aversion to the Circles - whatever was here was nothing like that, so, it seemed like a good idea to observe what they had to offer. Maybe he’d even learn something new. Picking up his glass again, he finished off what was in it. “Have you eaten yet?” he asked Dorian. “We could order something. Find something terrible on Netflix. If you fall asleep and snore, I even promise to tuck you in.” “Magnus is a part of it, if I recall correctly.” Dorian wasn’t exactly a member, but he knew of the place. Like Max, he had reservations about the whole thing and it wasn’t like he needed the training. The skills were just kinda there from the dreams, which was rather nice. “I had something...at some point.” Dorian hadn’t really been eating much. His appetite just wasn’t there. “Are you suggesting a ‘Netflix and chill’ scenario because I am not that kind of man.” That was really dependent on the other man involved, to be quite honest, and Dorian was sure that Max knew that about him. “I guess I could eat something, though.” Netflix and chill. Max wasn’t really up on the hip lingo and euphemisms very much, but even he knew what that meant. It made him grin a bit. “Not entirely, but as long as you eat something. I could use something too.” He just wanted to make sure Dorian nourished himself - and while the other mage protested about being looked after, that he didn’t need it, Max did anyway. It was like second nature by now. Even at the end of their story, the words woven by Varric and others (Magister Pavus's allies said that his greatest strength lay in the lover he left in the South, but still conversed with via message crystal. Some claimed to have seen the Inquisitor on the streets of Minrathous on rare occasions, sneaking into the heart of Tevinter to aid his amatus), turned into a sensational tale to be told - it was Trevelyan being happy for him from a distance. Even if it meant losing him, Max couldn’t imagine doing anything less than supporting Dorian. Here too, throughout everything, every stumble and every demon emerged and every broken heart. There would be more, definitely, but for now? One thing at a time. |