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🌹 certified 20 lorenz hellman gloucester 🌹 ([personal profile] hotproblems) wrote2020-03-19 07:58 am

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doggish: if you don't want me to stare at your ass (embarrassed âš” don't bend down)

[personal profile] doggish 2020-08-03 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
[So hey, give mind-reading this: now when they encounter some new fuckery, he's not nearly as thrown as he might otherwise have been. The bar has been set fairly high.

Actually, wait, back up: so they'd been having a fairly decent week, when all's said and done. Fenris has learned to enjoy the yukata, especially once he learned how to manipulate the fabric to suit him, all dark colors accented by hints of blue or silver. The festival itself is enjoyable as well, if not utterly foreign to him. They go out more than once, weaving their way through booths once the sun sets, examining trinkets by the light of the lanterns and talking about nothing in particular as they do.

They're on their way home when Vulpus opens his portal. And sooner or later, they go through.

He doesn't know what to expect, frankly, or what he even wants when he gets it. To back to Kirkwall? To see Lorenz's world? Or perhaps some third option, someone else's world, so he doesn't have to think about heartache or homesickness.

But it's Kirkwall's streets they land on. He knows them in an instant: the cracked cobblestone beneath his feet; the bizarre architecture, shantytowns sprung up in every free space available, with only the slimmest passages left for travel; the occasional sea breeze and the glittering sight of Hightown just above them.

Lowtown. Despite himself, despite everything, something in him relaxes.]


We're in Kirkwall.

[Oh, he's missed this.]
doggish: those worms (talk âš” those were good people)

[personal profile] doggish 2020-08-04 05:47 am (UTC)(link)
It goes down, too.

[Except he's not going to bring Lorenz down to the sewers, even he won't go that far. Lowtown is scummy enough, and he squeezes Lorenz's hand just once before leading them forward. There's an extra pull to his grip that speaks of eagerness, but god, he's missed being in a place that makes sense to him.

Though . . . he realizes, and glances up, but no, the Chantry is there, whole and unharmed. Huh. A thing to ponder later, perhaps, when he's in a better frame of mind to prod at that.]


Stay close to me. [Like, this is almost certainly a memory or something, but he doesn't trust them not to get mugged.] And come on. I wish to see how you'll keep on that polite face when you're trying the ale I'm used to.
doggish: (running into the night)

[personal profile] doggish 2020-08-04 09:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[He does not believe him, but that's all right. He'll be vindicated soon enough. In the meantime: they duck through narrow alleys and take seemingly random turns. The streets are surprisingly clean, shining from what must have been a recent rainfall. He's glad for that. He's glad for all of this, a giddy enthusiasm utterly foreign to him. Even the most mundane sights seem something wonderful to share now: see, I used to buy armor from that stall. See, Isabela and I once killed a few Carta thugs when they tried to mug us. See, that's the path I would take when I was going home, that's the best spot to hang around if you want to get work, that's where Merrill's legs once gave out and I had to carry her home, see, see, see?

It's like sharing his memories all over again. See? This is a part of who I am, so much so that for Lorenz to not understand is impossible. Kirkwall, for all he'd left it, for all he'd never meant to consider it home, had felt . . . well. It had felt, as he'd put it to Aveline once. Like it or not, it was the first place he'd chosen for himself, and it has far more of a bearing on his life than he realizes.

So they walk, and sometimes he gives in to the impulse to point out this or that. Not incessantly, and certainly not with anything approaching giddiness, but rather in murmured comments, quiet observations meant only for Lorenz.

The Hanged Man stands out, though, even in Lowtown. Not because it's so nice, but because it's so clearly a hub of activity: even in this memory, fantasy, whatever, it's still busy. People of questionable origin hang around the front, and yes, some give Lorenz an extra glance, but it's fine.

He'd intended only to sit them down at a table, order a few drinks, tease Lorenz when he'd fussed. Instead, they walk in, and it's--

Well, it's an illusion based on a memory, isn't it? And what Fenris remembers, really remembers, isn't the atmosphere or the drinks or the brawling.

It's the company.

It's not all of them. But enough, Varric and Anders and Sebastian, and from the way they glance around, they're not the only ones here. And it's nothing, it's nothing, he knows that, it's not really them, just fragments and illusions and magic, but still--]


Let's sit.

[Not near them. Tucked away elsewhere, where they can observe in peace.]
Edited 2020-08-04 21:46 (UTC)
doggish: do you really want to call season 7 your favorite (talk âš” we-ell)

[personal profile] doggish 2020-08-07 07:18 pm (UTC)(link)
[There's no saying how long this will last, and he doesn't know if that's a comforting thought or an apprehensive one. But drinks are always a good idea, and he nods distractedly. Drinks, yes, and for the life of him he can't actually remember what he goes and gets them, only that it's alcoholic. Which rather suits, in this bar.

They do look real, save for the odd detail here and there. Anders had never had an earring (at least, while Fenris knew him); Sebastian's armor was white, not gold. But it's still them, and he watches in fascination as Varric deals out cards and makes jokes, too distant to overhear.

But it's stupid to sit and gape. He turns to Lorenz, grateful for the distraction. They can't ignore that forever, but they sure can for a little while.]


Everything is so flat around here-- or, well. Lunatia. Though at least the levels remind me of here.

[But it's not the same. Kirkwall you felt as though you could almost climb; Lunatia just feels sterile and isolated. He's not biased. And he can still hear them, but of course he can, he's so utterly familiar with the way they speak.]

Hightown, Lowtown, Darktown. The three main sections of the city.
doggish: if you say you have punch and pie (talk âš” more people will come)

[personal profile] doggish 2020-08-08 06:44 am (UTC)(link)
Likely not.

[This, at least, is cute, and he's smiling faintly as he knocks his hand back, drinking from his own. It's absolutely disgusting, but it's also comfortingly familiar.]

The point isn't to enjoy it. The point is to get drunk, preferably as cheap as possible for everyone involved. Rather than water their ale, I suspect they choose some particularly creative substitutes.

Well done not spitting it out.
doggish: i'm a bus token (talk âš” she's a diamond)

[personal profile] doggish 2020-08-11 06:32 am (UTC)(link)
What you and I constitute as a good meal can differ. [It's not just the fish dinner he's thinking of, although that's up there.] What did you have in mind?

[Anders is losing, and Varric is laughing in that way he does, somehow both at someone and with them. He listens with half an ear, but his attention is focused forward.]

And tell me where we'd have it. Your childhood home? Or elsewhere within your territory?
doggish: like i discovered it (talk âš” leaning on this stump)

[personal profile] doggish 2020-08-14 12:09 am (UTC)(link)
I would not mind a look at them.

[Parents are curious things. He isn't fool enough to think Lorenz's home life was cozy and domestic, but at the same time, he rarely speaks of his parents with anything near derision or contempt. He must have some good feelings towards them, and that's more than Fenris has ever known, so. Might as well see it.]

Will I see your lodgings if we head to the monastery?

[Literally the biggest draw, let him see his boyfriend's dorm?]