[ CLOSED ]

[blackscales]

WHO: Wrathion, Anduin
WHEN: Late Feb - Early March
WHERE: Ke-Waihu, the house of the old village wise man
WHAT: Curses, scratches, and aches
WARNINGS: Wrathion will likely scandalously take his shirt off so Anduin can see what he's healing. Or not healing, as the case may be. There may be disgusting hand contact. There is definitely UST.


In Ke-Waihu, the darkness at night is thick, the silence as heavy as a blanket muffling everything around them.

Wrathion finds it both reassuring and a source of unease. He hears nothing coming, yet neither is there a gentle hum of activity to mask his own movements.

In truth, he should not be out in the dark at all. He should be in his own assigned home, sticking to their cover story. Yet he has grown... accustomed to Anduin's close company, and the scratches that recently appeared on his skin have begun to bother him.

He simply wants him to examine them. As a healer. That's all it is. He isn't thinking about anything else. Not the union ceremony Anduin got swept up in, not the prospect of the Beastmaster being here, not the sick unease he feels wondering if he should leave in case something happens. If he should leave Anduin behind, for his own safety.

Not Anduin's gentle sympathy as they traversed the forest, chased by fleeting visions of Azeroth taunting them with something they could not have.

Not the reminder of how he had faced down Fahrad, devoid of a way to save him as the whispers twisted his mind.

Wrathion feels... strange. He cannot say he has ever particularly been troubled to only have himself for company, yet in the inky darkness here his own thoughts feel... loud somehow. The rooms he stands in feel big, and he feels uncommonly ill at ease.

He sends Anduin a simple message:

I'm outside.

Then waits to be let in, a ghost lurking around the window of Anduin's room in the wiseman's old abode. It seems fitting Anduin has been placed here, since he seems well suited to resolving disputes and giving advice. Then again, he'd likely been enjoying the respite -- or what limited respite he had.

Comments

[chosenbylight]

Anduin sits on the edge of his bed in this room of the house that they have assigned for him to live in for the next who knows how long, rubbing at the dark red band that has formed itself around his wrist. There is a heaviness which has settled itself in his limbs, in his heart, and sitting here in the dark with only the light of the lamp he has lit, he too feels... Unsettled.

There is a frustration building within him. Has been building since the day they set foot in this town and the villagers had insisted on stripping him down and forcing a curse down his throat. And he's tired. Tired of the villagers who knock on their door whenever they so choose with whatever petty quandry they feel they must, tired of their superstitions they keep forcing upon the group, tired of this sneaking around.

He had not known how much he had come to rely on Wrathion's companionship, the ebb and flow of their conversations with one another, or even the simple comforting fact of his presence there at his side, until he has been forced to live here, without him. Well -- not entirely without him...

Anduin glances down to the message that appears from his friend, a soft smile twisting at his lips as he does. He doesn't bother to make any reply, rising instead and crossing to the window where he knows he will be and pushing it open.

"Good evening," he says, stepping back to let Wrathion space to climb through. "I hope that nobody gave you trouble on your way over?"

[blackscales]

"I don't believe I was seen."

He cannot be sure, but he thinks he was careful. Wrathion boosts himself through the window, landing lightly and closing it behind himself.

"Your new homestead appears... busy."

Wrathion has noted the large amount of traffic it gets, and although his own farmhouse has visitors they are not... of the same flavour. No doubt if they were all seeking advice Anduin has exhausted himself trying to give it, even to those less deserving. Window secured, Wrathion loosens his coat and lets his eyes rove over Anduin's room curiously. Visitors aside, it does not seem uncomfortable. Perhaps Anduin is at least better able to sleep here?

[chosenbylight]

Anduin's little room is sparsely furnished, although what it does have is sturdy and of decent quality. A low, decently-sized bed takes up a good amount of space in the room, though there is also a small chest off to the side containing a few spare blankets, and a low table in the center of the room with a few padded cushions laid around it should he need work or eating space. The wise man who lived here previously had been obviously well-paid, whether that is by the amount he had charged or the number of visitors who had stopped by Anduin cannot say for certain -- though he's betting on the latter.

He sighs in response to Wrathion's observation, raising a hand to rub at his forehead before crossing back to sit heavily on the edge of his bed once more.

"The old wise man who lived here before really should have established better boundaries, or. Something. These people..." Anduin trails off, shaking his head. "I shouldn't complain. They are harmless, really. Just... Incessant."

[blackscales]

Ah.

Anduin sounds... tired. Wrathion feels a faint stab of guilt at imposing on him, especially imposing when he wants something.

"If you'd prefer I leave you to rest...?"

Perhaps that would be the more polite thing to do? To leave Anduin to sleep and recover, make use of being allowed a bed that is likely moderately comfortable. They cannot be sure how long they'll be here, after all, before they are moved on -- potentially to sleeping on the floor once again.

[chosenbylight]

Anduin's expression pinches in confusion at that and he straightens to glance up at Wrathion, frowning as he does.

"What? No, I -- stay, please." He gestures for Wrathion forward to sit and make himself comfortable. "Forgive me, Wrathion, I did not mean to imply... It has been a long day, but I am glad to see you here."

He flashes a tired smile up at him.

"Unless you happen to have come to me asking for advice on what to do with your mother-in-law."

[blackscales]

Wrathion pauses, looking faintly uncomfortable, then shakes his head.

"No," he admits softly, "I will stay if that is what you wish."

He did want something, however, and now he wonders if it is better to... lessen the burden. Yet did Anduin not ask him to tell him things? He visibly struggles with this a moment before moving to sit beside Anduin, trying to school his expression neutral.

"You are comfortable here?"

Beyond the incessant requests for advice, that is.

[chosenbylight]

Anduin's smile falls slightly as he watches Wrathion hesitate, his expression pinching into something of a frown as his companion moves to lower himself to sit down on the bed beside him. He seems unusually reserved and hesitant, having made the effort to come all of this way and yet offering to leave -- why? Because Anduin is tired? No, there must be something more. And what is it with all of these questions?

"I am fine," he says, turning his attention towards Wrathion himself now. "The villagers might be a little more... High maintenance than I would have assumed, but there is a roof over my head, and I have my own room with a bed." He flicks a ghost of a smile at Wrathion at that, before it fades slightly and he turns to study him properly.

"Something is troubling you," he observes, after a long moment.

[blackscales]

"Yes," Wrathion admits.

Several things, in truth. Admittedly, Anduin's presence is... a reassurance already. Still, perhaps better to start with something smaller, first. Something Anduin can help with more immediately.

"I find myself in need of your talents, if you don't mind."

[chosenbylight]

Anduin's expression softens, his eyebrows raising in question at that particular turn of phrase. His... talents?

"Yes, of course," he offers, not even certain just what it is that he is agreeing to, just yet. He is -- assuming that they are talking about his healing, of course, but then again they've just spent the last few moments discussing the villagers coming for advice, so. He can hardly be sure either way. Best just agree and wait for Wrathion to ask for himself. "What is it?"

It is notable that he is asking for himself, after all. Half the time it feels as though he has to wring such things out of him.

[blackscales]

"I'm not certain," Wrathion admits. "I woke up with them. I suspect it may be related to the unique ritual we partook in on entry to this village."

He considers Anduin a moment longer, uneasy, then moves to shrug off his coat and fold it over the edge of the bed.

"If you don't mind?" he prompts, then begins carefully unbuttoning his cuffs -- loosening them then unbuttoning his shirt and turning a little as he shrugs it off. Along the dark skin of his back are sore looking cuts... No, scratches that look as if they've been done by sharp nails. They aren't especially deep, in truth, but his clothing keeps irritating them. It would be preferable not to have them.

[chosenbylight]

Anduin shakes his head at the question, indicating for Wrathion to go on. He watches with a healer's eye as Wrathion continues to unbutton his shirt and shrugs it off, his attention immediately drawn towards the scratches that are revealed once he does.

Anduin frowns, sitting forward to place a hand on Wrathion's shoulder and turn him slightly towards the light so he might see the scratches more clearly. By the shape and patterning of them, they almost look like...

"How long have they been there?" he asks. Just because he said he woke up with them, it does not necessarily mean that was today. Though it would be nice if Wrathion had come to him with an issue the same day it happened (for a change).

[blackscales]

Wrathion tenses, just a little, at the touch to his shoulder -- yet all the same lets Anduin move him as he likes.

"Since the morning after we arrived. They do not appear to be fading on their own."

Which he had hoped they would, of course. They are not a debilitating injury, just scratches. They have not prevented him going about his daily routine in any way, so although it was... unusual for them to appear he had no reason to think they required healing.

[chosenbylight]

Anduin studies the scratches in the dim light of the lamp from across the room. While they aren't all that bad, they do seem to be uncomfortable. They've obviously at least become enough of a nuisance for Wrathion to seek out his healing.

"That does sound as though they do have something to do with your curse," Anduin agrees. He splays his fingers out across the skin near the scratches, frowning as he examines the pattern of them for a moment longer before he takes a breath. There's no use worrying about them now, and so long as they do not return...

"This may sting a bit," he warns, before calling up a minor healing spell, the Light filling the room with a gentle glow as he channels it through the palm of his hand and passes it over the scratches on his companion's back.

Nothing happens. As the spell fades, the scratches still remain.

Anduin frowns. That isn't right. Those scratches aren't all that deep, that spell should have... Gathering his resolve, Anduin reaches forward and calls forth a more powerful healing spell, the Light brighter this time in the darkness of the room around them. Encircling Anduin himself and spilling forth from his palm towards the skin of Wrathion's back.

And still nothing happens.

Anduin releases the spell with a noise of frustration, the room falling back into darkness once more with only the dim light of the paper lamp on the table left to light their view. He feels momentarily blinded and also inexplicably frustrated. It's supposed to work. It's supposed to work.

"I'm sorry," Anduin says at last. "It's the curse, I think. I had hoped..." He trails off, shaking his head. "It doesn't seem to be letting me heal anything brought on by its side-effects." These scratches. His wrists. He wonders what other suffering the curses might have been brought upon the otherworlders that he isn't aware of yet.

Nightmares

[blackscales]

Wrathion rarely sleeps peacefully.

It's hard enough to fall asleep to begin with, having company. He's unused to it, fidgets and jolts awake every so often at the strange sensation of being touched.

Held.

He's never slept beside someone before, never been offered the warmth of an embrace this way. He's loathe to give it up, even if it makes him restless. Yet the gentle comfort of Anduin's closeness does lure him to sleep eventually, and when he sleeps he dreams.

He dreams he's walking through an underground chamber, around him the too-still bodies of dragons. A voice is laughing at him, whispering. The chamber opens up and Anduin is there.

Anduin is laughing too.

He draws fire into his hands but the fire is purple, the ground is purple, then he's no longer in a chamber -- a dark, starless sky swirls over hand and Wrathion cannot breathe. Xanesh is there, and laughing, and the world is growing darker. He's protesting, but something is holding him in place. Securing him.

In his sleep, Wrathion growls and begins to struggle.

[chosenbylight]

Wrathion is not a peaceful sleeper. Anduin had known this even before Wrathion had warned him of it, though it is one thing to observe it from across the room and another entirely when Wrathion is not only in his bed, but plastered against him like a second blanket.

A very warm, very restless blanket that continues to cling a bit too tight even through all the fidgeting and jolting awake.

Anduin doesn't mind all that much. Somewhere through all the shifting and burrowing that Wrathion has done, Anduin finds himself on his back, having kicked the blankets mostly off of himself in an effort to keep from overheating. One arm braces Wrathion in place where has come to rest, head pillowed on Anduin's shoulder, arms tight around his waist. He wouldn't say that he had been sleeping so much as drifting, when the deep sound of growling brings him back to himself in the dark of the room to find Wrathion struggling against him.

"Wrathion?" he asks muzzily, tightening his arm around him in the hopes that it might make him feel more secure, or at least draw his attention to the here and now...

[blackscales]

Anduin tightens his arm around him, and Wrathion twitches against his captor -- against the restraints holding him in his dream.

For better or worse, he is at least a light sleeper and easy to wake.

The sound of Anduin's voice processes through, and Wrathion jolts awake abruptly. Some instinct kicks in, and as it does rolls quickly to pin down the person immobilizing him. Scales race over the dragons normally human skin, and his teeth sharpen as he snarls a warning --

When the sight of the person he's warning filters through finally. He blinks, breathing hard as he looks down at Anduin.

Ah.

The scales slowly begin to recede from his face, a frown pulling at Wrathion's features as he gently withdraws a hand from the priest's chest.

Hmmm.

His eyes flit up to the windows, gauging daylight, then back to Anduin.

"I did not mean to wake you," he says finally.

Since, clearly, he is very much awake now.

[chosenbylight]

Anduin may have been half-awake, but he had not expected anything like the reaction that Wrathion gives, as he suddenly finds Wrathion on top of him, snarling and pinning him back against the bed --

His eyes are wide and blue as he stares up at Wrathion, watching him come back to himself with an almost palpable sense of relief. He isn't entirely certain just what he might have done if he hadn't.

This was different than the other times that Wrathion had startled awake earlier that night (yes, Anduin had noticed that). A nightmare, he realizes, abruptly. The growling, the struggling... It must have been a nightmare.

"I..." Anduin begins, but his voice comes out thin and thready. He clears his throat and tries again. "Are... You alright?"

He is decidedly not making any sudden movements until he's sure of this, one way or the other.

[blackscales]

There's a long pause, as if Wrathion is weighing up how to answer that, then he slides himself off Anduin's lap abruptly.

"Yes," he says finally. "I did warn you I was a restless sleeper."

That's clearly all this is, restless sleep. He unties his hair and busies himself re-fastening it out of his face, as if that will straighten the leftover anxiety out of him.

His eyes slide back to Anduin once that's done, and Wrathion hesitates a moment.

"... Apologies if I startled you."

Since, yes, he can see that it has... provoked a reaction.

Embarrassing. He should have better control of himself than this. Obviously he would never hurt Anduin, but no doubt this incident has planted the thought in the man's head. That he's dangerous. That... is not a pleasant thing.

[chosenbylight]

Anduin allows Wrathion a moment to pull away and recover himself. It allows him a moment to recover himself as well, if he's being honest. Tentatively, he moves to push himself to sit up, running a hand over his face as he wonders just how late -- early? -- it is.

"I'm fine," he replies, gently. And he is, more or less. Wrathion pinning him down had been... A surprise, to put it mildly. The snarling, the flash of scales, it had not been quite been the reaction he would hope for when reaching for Wrathion in the dark. But there's no real harm done.

He glances up, meeting Wrathion's eyes across the space of the bed and wondering whether he would really appreciate any discussion of what just happened. Probably not, but he feels as though he should try to talk about it nevertheless.

"You were growling," he says. "I thought..."

Well, he didn't really know what he had thought. He'd been half-asleep, after all.

[blackscales]

"It was not directed at you."

Just to be clear, he had no intention of threatening Anduin.

Wrathion's fingers flex as he tries to force his heartrate to lower, his breathes to stay slow and steady. Anduin is concerned, Wrathion can feel it coming off him in waves, but he doesn't know what to say about it. Dreams can be unpleasant, that is simply the way of things for him. Dreamless sleep potions may be necessary, he supposes, if he is to sleep beside the priest again -- although sedating himself too heavily brings its own flavour of anxiety as well.

[chosenbylight]

"No," Anduin agrees. He had not supposed that it was.

Of course he is concerned. Had they not just been over this earlier that evening? He cares for Wrathion, and just because he is not in immediate danger doesn't mean that there isn't still cause for worry.

He understands that Wrathion is... Struggling. That he is feeling self-conscious, of whatever it was that just transpired. He's never been very good at being vulnerable, and waking up in such a way -- certainly is that. In a way that he cannot hide, much as he would like to do so otherwise.

He could insist on Wrathion explaining to him, but he knows just how well things go when he presses him on -- pretty much anything. So instead when he speaks it is to say, "I have nightmares myself as well, you know."

[blackscales]

The remark is kindly meant.

Everything Anduin does is, his words soft, his smile gentle.

Wrathion feels his stomach twist, his fingers curl until nails dig into his skin. His tongue runs over his teeth, heartrate picking up again.

This was a weakness, weaknesses can be used to hurt, it already hurt, it was a mistake, he should --

His eyes close for a moment, and Wrathion presses down on the panic. Compacts it into a box and wills it to be quiet a moment.

"I don't remember a time I didn't have them," he admits finally. It comes out steady enough that he risks opening his eyes again, glancing over to Anduin. What nightmares did he have, he wonders. Garrosh Hellscream? His father, on the Broken Shore?

Black dragons, perhaps?

[chosenbylight]

The thought of it makes Anduin's heart hurt. He supposes that it does make sense. Wrathion has not lived an easy life, even before the most recent challenges in his battle against N'Zoth. The more that Anduin learns, the more he understands this. From the moment he entered consciousness, it feels as though Wrathion has had to fight -- for everything. What Anduin would not give to allow him just a moment of peace.

Anduin can see that even admitting this much is not easy for Wrathion. He appreciates that in doing so, Wrathion is placing a large amount of trust in him. That trust is a gift, and Anduin will do his best to treasure it.

He reaches out a hand across the bed toward Wrathion, palm up. If he would care to take it. A quiet olive branch. He has not ruined this. He is still welcome here.

"I doubt that the present circumstances are helping you sleep well."

This curse. The villagers' somewhat hostile attitudes. And now the Beastmaster looming on the horizon...

[blackscales]

Wrathion's eyes slant down toward Anduin's hand, thoughtful, and he gives a low non-committal hum.

Of course it isn't helping, but in the end there's no immediate solutions.

"Nor you," he points out, and lets his hand creep over toward Anduin's. He slides their fingers together with slow, deliberate care -- savouring the sensation. There's always a chance they'll lose this, after all. He has to make it count. Memorise it. "Your confidence in an improved state of sleep may have been misplaced."

He's just saying, better than it's been in months? If this is still an improvement, Wrathion can only assume Anduin was not sleeping at all.

[chosenbylight]

Anduin's lips curl up into something of a self-conscious smile as Wrathion curls his fingers into his own, and he finds himself being somewhat called out on his earlier words. He supposes he does deserve that, a little.

"Well," he replies, curling his own fingers around Wrathion's and giving his hand a squeeze. "It's certainly been better company."

He takes a moment to stroke his thumb against the back of Wrathion's hand, gentle and soft. A gesture of reassurance as he determines how best to proceed from here.

"In truth, I have been finding it difficult to quiet my thoughts tonight," Anduin admits. "It would seem perhaps... I am not the only one?"