WHO: Dorian Storm and Orym WHERE: Outside the Bells Hells Spooky House WHEN: Mid-morning on today, June 1 WHAT: Orym and Dorian take a break in their training for resting, flirting, and gift giving. ART CREDIT:Here WARNINGS: None really, just shmoop!
"All right," Orym started, his tone a bit definitive as he wiped the sweat from his face with his shirt and lowered his sword into a more relaxed position, "I think it's time for a break."
The sun was already high in the morning sky, the temperature rising from the morning coolness quickly enough to promise that it was going to be a warm, nearly summer sort of day. He was with Dorian in the corner of the yard that they had deemed best fit for this training; mostly flat to alleviate any concerns for tripping over rocks or roots, but covered with enough clover and grass to ensure that if there was any tripping, there was plenty of cushion to soften the fall.
It was that grass that Orym fell onto now, with a soft oof as he made contact with the ground. He smiled up at Dorian, motioning for him to really take a break and let himself relax and recharge before they continued on.
And…if Orym had ulterior motives for taking this break that was hiding away in the bag of holding, well. Surely he would be forgiven.
The bag was forgotten for now, though, as Orym took a drink of water and said, "You're doing really well, you know." They had only been working on Dorian's training a short while now, but Orym meant it. Dorian might have already had experience with a sword and could already hold his own in a fight, something that Orym had been witness to on more than one occasion, but he understood that need for improvement and honing of a skill; combine that with Dorian's desire to protect and worry about the glimpse they had of one potential future, he understood it even more.
Once he'd had his fill, he held out the water bottle to Dorian--so much more convenient and better at keeping water actually cold than the skins they'd used back in Exandria. "You're going to be besting me before we know it."
The word break was an immediate drench of cold water. Every tightened muscle, stiff stance, and raised sword went slack. Dorian had been so intensely training for Orym this morning—like he had every morning since his decision and desire to learn—that he somehow forgot to relax. He had been determined to put his all into this, not just for himself but for the person who was teaching him. He couldn't be halfway committed to this; not that he wanted to be.
"I appreciate your encouragement, because sometimes I'm not even sure if I learned things correctly. It's just all going to be muscle memory at this point," Dorian said, swinging his training blade back and forth to keep his arms loose and his body warm, despite the thin line of sweat beading at his brow. He had made the mistake of stopping cold turkey early on in this and regretting it the next morning.
He accepted the water bottle, and collapsed, albeit gracefully, next to Orym on the grass. "Not that you aren't a good teacher, you are!" Because Dorian was always worried about seeming ungrateful, and he wasn't. But he would be lying if he said it wasn't hard. "I'm just relearning to use parts of my body that were not meant to do the things we're doing."
His face scrunched up, and he tipped it to the sky, hoping for a convenient cool breeze. He grinned. "But if you think I'm going to best you any time soon, I might need to check to make sure you're well. Are you my Orym? The one who protected the Voice of the Tempest and spent his life doing this very thing? The one who is training me and not the other way around?"
Orym watched Dorian--he always watched Dorian--with a small smile, before lifting one of his hands and releasing a gentle puff of air in his direction to help cool him off. It was the Air Ashari special and probably a little silly to be sending air at an air genasi, but if he was going to put Dorian through exercises all morning, requested or not, it was the least he could do.
"Hm, I don't know," he continued the tease, settling in with his arms behind him for support and his stretched out before him. "That does sound a little like me, but who could say?"
He almost, almost made a joke about a doppelganger, until his mind skittered to the past and to Dusk and Yu. Nevermind that.
Instead, Orym peered up at Dorian, squinting a bit against the sun. "I suppose maybe it will take a little more time before we get there, but I know we will, eventually. I can already see the improvement, though." At that, he nudged Dorian gently with his shoulder, his smile going to a bit crooked. "And as your boyfriend, you have to accept my compliments. That's the rule."
Dorian's smile grew bigger, with his face tipped toward the sun, at the gust of wind. He knew where it came from, and it was not the convenience of the weather understanding what he needed at the moment, but a halfling who was most definitely watching him. His attention slid slowly over to Orym, opening one eye to suspiciously look at him play along with the joke. Dorian hummed, a sort of sure and uh huh, but nothing else.
But the moment Orym stretched out, Dorian was moving fast, faster than he had ever before. This was his own attempt to catch Orym off guard. Whether or not it worked was yet to be determined, but he had slung an arm to the other side of Orym, his own hip pressed against his side, and confined him on the ground while Dorian hovered above. His hair hung like a curtain to one side, his eyebrows rose mischievously.
"How was that for improvement? Isn't there a lesson here about, I don't know, surprising someone? If I have to accept compliments from my boyfriend, then I'm going to make up rules too. And you have to accept mine in return," Dorian said, ducking in to steal a kiss. But his arms were tired, and his body felt the trappings of exhaustion, and so they shook.
Their noses were touching, and Dorian winced, embarrassed. "All right, I overestimated being able to do a push up, and I think I might not be able to go back up. Stuck? I think I'm stuck or about to collapse on you."
Dorian absolutely took Orym by surprise, which was saying something as very, very few things took the ever perceptive halfling by surprise. It would figure, honestly, that it was Dorian that could manage it; he'd caught Orym off guard more than once in the time they had known one another, after all, in more ways than one.
Regardless, he couldn't find a reason to complain about it as he looked up at Dorian from the grass, smiling at his words and accepting the kiss without hesitation. What Orym did notice, though, was the strain that Dorian was putting on himself to hold the position. Orym hummed in consideration, leaning up just enough to brush his nose along Dorian's cheekbone. "I'm trying to find a downside here, Dor," he teased, maneuvering back so he could steal a kiss.
It was a good line and an excellent show of what flirting could look like after nearly eight months of regularly indulging, he had to think, but it had a dual purpose of distraction. Carefully, Orym used all of his halfling strength and knowledge of battle maneuvers to use his body to flip their positions, Dorian on his back and Orym perched above him with a self-satisfied grin.
Orym leaned in, one hand in the grass on either side of Dorian's head, and tipped his head to the side. "Better?"
"The downside, the downside is—" Oh he didn't have a good reason. Every muscle in his body said to let go, and to collapse onto Orym where he was certain he was going to stay permanently. He would not be getting up. That was, sort of, a downside. "If I go down I'm not moving for at least an hour. Maybe more, maybe hours, so many hours, and then there's going to be this body on top of you that is just all kinds of dead weight and—"
Dorian yelped, surprised even by the gentleness of the maneuver. He was going from seeing Orym below him to seeing Orym above him, and the second the world stopped inverting, Dorian started to laugh. His arms did not hurt anymore.
"Yes, yes this is better. This is obviously better, you could have warned me though. Or is this, is this another lesson? I thought we were taking a break." He didn't sound mad, just curious, as he tipped his head to mimic Orym's. "This is the part where I remind you about what you said about besting you soon, and how easily you can flip me over. But I am okay with staying here for a while if you are," Dorian said, nodding to the hands on either side of him.
"I think that the lesson might be something about how any moment could be a lesson?" Orym suggested, voice pitched in question. "Or maybe the lesson was just that sometimes I like to show off?"
On that note, Orym lifted one of his hands off the ground, his fingers tucking some of Dorian's hair behind his ear, while the other arm stayed steady--at least until he leaned into a one handed push up that left him close enough to steal another kiss. What was the point of getting up early for years now and going through a series of push-ups and sit-ups if he wasn't able to use his skills for flirting with his boyfriend?
It felt good to be playful, though, in a way that he could only be with Dorian. Orym was a practical and serious guy when the occasion called for it (and sometimes when it didn't, as it was hard to shake), but Dorian had always relaxed him in a way that let him feel like he could be more of himself. Even before they had become what they were now, he brought out a piece of Orym that he'd thought he had long since forgotten how to be.
Eventually, though, he did lift back up, ending the stolen kiss as he gave Dorian a smile. "I have something for you."
Right as Orym leaned down in an impressive one-armed push up, Dorian began to laugh, swallowed up in their kiss. It was the impressive ways that Orym could show off that always surprised Dorian. He had watched people underestimate Orym because he was smaller, someone to look down on, but Orym had always seemed bigger than life to him. And he knew that all that power was hidden, purposeful or not. Dorian knew better than to misjudge his halfling boyfriend in any situation, even this.
And he could have stayed here, making out with Orym on the grass—this had been a dream, or several dreams, and a few realities since they had decided to be more than friends—but Dorian was curious. Instead of saying wait, a little more, and going back in to press their lips together, Dorian leaned a little into Orym's hand, and waited.
"What do you mean you have something for me? Where are you hiding it?" Dorian asked, his hands coming up to roam Orym's body in an innocent, low-key investigative way. His sleight of hand could not come close to rivaling Fearne's or Ashton's but he thought, well, maybe. He could at least distract.
"I didn't bring you anything, and now this seems unfair. Another lesson out of a lesson, of always being prepared, maybe? Or that you will do something unexpected. Or somehow I did something that deserved a gift of some kind, which I didn't even realize I did. It could be that I made myself a lesson.." Oh and there we went, babbling, to cover up his own nervous anxiety.
As Dorian fell into his habitual babbling, Orym leaned in and silenced him with a kiss--something short, soft, and hopefully reassuring. He had long since learned that Dorian would likely never fully rid himself of the anxiety that thrummed through his veins; it made Orym feel a whole medley of emotions when he thought about the people that might have misused Dorian's trust or goodwill to make him worry as much as he did, but he understood that all he could do now was be supportive and accepting of any feeling his boyfriend fell into, giving him a soft place to land.
At least, that's what Orym tried to do. When he ended the quick kiss, he leaned up and pressed a playful one to Dorian's nose before fully straightening up and tipping sideways to fall off the perch he'd taken up on the genasi. "You do more than I think you'd even realize to deserve gifts," Orym said as he retrieved the halfling sized bag of holding that he'd purchased from Gilmore when he had picked up the gift in question. He settled back down in the grass next to where he'd left Dorian, legs tucked to one side as he rested gently against Dorian himself. "But this isn't for any reason in specific, other than that you're you and I love you."
Orym's hand fished into the bag, the item immediately appearing in his grip. He was sure it looked at least a bit comical, someone his size pulling out a scimitar fit for someone who rose to six feet, but he didn't really notice in the moment. Instead, he simply held it out to Dorian.
"For you." The nerves that he had tried to soothe away from Dorian started to bubble up within his own chest. He had known as soon as he saw the scimitar styled to look like the deadliest of feathers that it was meant to be wielded by Dorian, the enchantments that Gilmore put on it only making it more of an asset. But Orym knew that this was more than just a gift to him; he did, after all, still use the very sword that Will had gifted him years ago. This was wearing his heart on his sleeve, somehow even more than he usually did with Dorian.
Dorian sat up on his elbows to watch Orym wander briefly off. His confusion was mounting, and he even opened his mouth a few times to disagree that just getting gifts for being himself didn't count. He would make it his mission to do the same for Orym if events or celebrations were just additional gift-giving opportunities. Existing seemed like a big generalization, but Dorian knew that the two of them could play at this game.
But what Orym pulled out of the bag was nowhere close to what Dorian expected. Something small? Something edible? Something practical? Scimitars were practical, in some sense. But he was sitting fully up now, his attention magnetized to the weapon that Orym was offering out to him—for him. It was beautiful, and he was, mortifyingly, in shock.
He hesitated once, twice, before finally reaching out to take it. The sword felt precious in his hands, reverberating with an energy he knew was an enchantment without having to ask. Dorian did several takes, some at Orym, some at the scimitar, but mostly his expression was full of awe and wonder. The words seemed so silly, but all he could manage out was a "Really? For me?" as he wrapped his hand comfortably around the hilt.
This was more than just a gift. This said so many words stuffed in something stunning and unique, presented to Dorian by someone who meant so much to him. "You have outdone yourself, Orym."
Orym watched Dorian with the same perceptive eye that he always used, though there was a shade of anticipation there that normally might not have been. Biting down gently on his lower lip, he watched as Dorian inspected the blade, taking in that look of wonder and just hoping that this was a good call.
And it seemed like it had been, so Orym shuffled in a bit closer, kneeling back to sit on his feet. "I saw it at one of the blacksmiths and it immediately reminded me of you," he said by way of explanation, gaze falling to the scimitar. He reached out to run his fingers along some of the detailing, careful not to graze the sharp edge. "It was beautiful on its own, but then I asked Gilmore to enchant it so it was personalized a bit more for you."
Orym's expression turned a bit sheepish as he peered up at Dorian, once again giving him a crooked smile. "I know you already have a blade, so I know this might have been a presumptuous sort of gift but--" He shrugged one of his shoulders. "I just wanted to get it for you."
"Not presumptuous, it isn't, Orym, it's—" Dorian exhaled slowly. It was just a lot. He didn't know how to put it into words, which was ironic considering his honorific as The Words Guy. But people could steal them right out of his mouth, and there was nothing that Dorian could do about it. This was one of those times. Instead he just watched the way Orym noted the engravings, the tempered steel, the gorgeous balance of it in his hand. Dorian wanted to use it now.
"It's perfect," was what Dorian settled on, kissing Orym swiftly on his cheek, and climbing to his feet. "You're being too modest now. I have several things I want to say about this, and some of them are still saying this is too much for a gift of just wanting to, but I don't want you to think I am ungrateful. I'm not, in fact..."
Dorian was stepping away from Orym, making some space for him to swing his sword around. Never mind that they had just gone through training and were taking a break, and that Dorian almost lost full movement in his arms above Orym minutes ago—this was different. This incentivized him, made Dorian feel bright and awake, and ready to take on the world. An extension of Orym in his hand.
He started to go through the motions, the basic techniques, small skills Orym had already imparted to him. He did this for a few seconds before facing Orym, grinning. "I love it."
With one knee drawn to his chest and his chin propped up on it, Orym watched Dorian test out the sword and simply smiled. He was, first and foremost, happy to see him so easily go through the different motions that Orym had been teaching Dorian during these lessons. Second, he could see just how right he had been when he'd first glimpsed that sword; it really had been forged for Dorian.
Orym's heart fluttered at being on the receiving end of Dorian's grin, something that wasn't all too off from the norm. "I'm glad," he said, head tipping a bit to the side so it was now his cheek resting on his knee as he continued to peer up at Dorian. "You'll have to spend some time with it, but once you do it should help you in a fight by making your hits have some more impact and also give you another flying boost."
And even if Orym believed wholeheartedly that Dorian would become even more of a formidable fighter with time and practice, he had to admit that he liked knowing he had a little bit of help through a good blade to get there. The whole point in all of this was to bolster his skills, because Orym couldn't always be the protector and sometimes he would need someone to protect him. Though he knew there was truth to that, he also felt important at being able to still give a little protection through this gift, even if it would be Dorian's ability that let him wield it.
"But mostly I'm just glad that you like it." He gestured with his hand between Dorian and the sword. "Might sound weird, but you look good together."
Dorian was pleased. Pleased to show off, pleased to remember his skills, pleased that Orym was pleased. Dorian had been struggling so long to find his place in the world, and with every step beside his friends and Orym, it became clearer who he was and what he wanted to do. Making these people proud hit differently than making his family proud. He wasn't just a spare or a burden anymore. Dorian was, unabashedly, coming into his own.
It helped that Orym was just as committed to getting him there as he was.
He wanted to keep feeling out the scimitar in his hands—his expression perking up at enchantments assisting, especially the flying—but Dorian realized in all his excitement and surprise he had forgotten the most important part. His arms dropped to his sides as he made his way back to Orym. "Thank you, I didn't thank you, and I need to thank you," Dorian said quickly, a soft blush coming to his cheeks. He knew Orym would try to be modest and humble, but Dorian was determined to make his feelings about the matter known.
"And it's not weird, it's—it's not something that would normally be a gift someone gave me. Usually it's musical in nature, which I don't want anyone to think that I'm not grateful for. I miss the lute that—nevermind, not important! What I'm trying to say is that this gift, and you, is like seeing the potential in me. The possibility of something more, of needing something more to get there and giving me this is, just—" Dorian took a deep breath, he felt overwhelmed abruptly. "Incredibly special. You are too."
By the time Dorian stopped speaking, Orym's cheeks were more than just tinged pink as a pleased--and downright bashful--blush took over his features. It was his instinct to rebuff or downplay the compliments, but he had just told Dorian that he should accept them when Orym gave them freely. It would feel only hypocritical if he didn't do the same.
But still, he could at least return them. "You're incredibly special, too," Orym said, moving to rock up onto his knees and then his feet in one swift, graceful movement. "And you'll have to forgive me if I make it my mission to make sure you don't forget it."
And he would, too. They had been through a lot together, Orym and Dorian, and he had to hope that it was only the beginning of much, much more. But, most of all, he just enjoyed that he had been given the gift of being at Dorian's side, where he could watch him flourish and continue to fall into his own. Though Orym was pretty sure that he would never fully shed the anxiety and worry that could plague him, he had also seen the confidence that Dorian could carry--like just now, as he tested out the sword, or when he was performing at the Crossed Quills--and he only wanted to help foster that.
Stepping forward, Orym reached up to tug gently on the hem of Dorian's shirt. "Come here for a sec." Because if ever there was a sentiment that deserved a kiss for punctuation, it was that one.
"Forgiveness granted," Dorian said, grinning wildly. Leave it to Orym to make it his mission, when a few years earlier, people would not give him the time of day. How far he had come, how wonderful the people in his life had been to change it.
He knew the tug for what it was and slowly leaned in. Normally, in their room or in a room, Orym would find something to bring himself up to height, but Dorian figured out in this field where they practiced coming down to Orym's level was the least he could do. He didn't have to ask, just promptly closed the distance between them and kissed Orym. A warm feeling blossomed in his chest, knowing someone for what they wanted even if it was clear as day.
But as Dorian pulled away, he winced, once. A tweak of pain, a strain of his body; Dorian really hadn't taken a proper break. He didn't stand back up, but he also didn't move to sit back down. "Uhhh, not to alarm you, but I think my back muscles have taken a vacation and I might be stuck for real this time..."