westwhere | [ CLOSED ] Twisting, constricted

Anduin moves to tuck himself further into the curve of Wrathion's shoulder, as the dragon curls around him, his lips quirking up into a smile at his companion's turn of phrase.

Our nightly chats.

"I have missed them as well," Anduin replies, softly. "And our games. I am sorry to say that I left the board behind in my room, where I thought it would be safe. Although perhaps it is for the best, for now."

He moves to place his hand flat on the side of Wrathion's jaw.

"Jihui was not designed with dragons in mind. And. I would not ask for you to change your form just yet. It is good, to be able to get to know you like this as well."

"You do appear to have recovered from your nerves."

His head tilts into the touch, another low rumble of pleasure escaping.

"I would happily trade Jihui for time spent like this."

Time spent having Anduin gently explore his draconic shape, getting himself to a point where he is as familiar with it as Wrathion's visage. Where Wrathion knows the sensation of Anduin's hands over his scales as well as the touch of them against skin.

Anduin can't help but smile at the way that Wrathion leans into the touch and rumbles -- not unlike a cat, he notes to himself with amusement. A very big cat. Anduin finds himself overcome with the urge to pet him like one as well, and he lets himself give in, scratching his fingers along the curve of his scaled cheek.

"I have never been cuddled by a dragon before," Anduin points out. "It is hard to be nervous about my surroundings with you making noises at me like that."

Would Wrathion be upset if he called it purring? That's definitely what it sounds like, in a very low and deep rumbling sort of way.

Making noises at him? Wrathion hadn't really been doing it on purpose, truth be told, so the prompt makes him think a little more about it. Is it... soothing? That's a useful piece of information, to know he can soothe Anduin if he wants to.

"Well," Wrathion prompts, "Not all dragons are as companionable as I am."

Also, he might be jealous if Anduin had been cuddling other dragons -- but he won't draw attention to that.

"No," Anduin agrees, smiling as he rubs his hand over Wrathion's face. "They are not. I certainly would not get away with being able to pet most of them as I am now."

For that is certainly what he is doing now. Anduin can't decide whether he's more like a big cat, or a big dog. He supposes he will need to stop looking for comparisons to animals he knows and simply learn dragon behavior instead.

"You are remarkable..." Anduin murmurs, flushing slightly once he realizes he has said so out loud.

"As are you."

He's not too proud to make the compliments mutual. Pressing his face into the touch he lets out another grumble of contentment, absorbing the contact like a flower leaning into the sun.

"However, I can change if you prefer."

Now that he's healed up, and had a little rest, he could take on his more familiar shape if Anduin prefers.

Anduin leans forward to press his forehead against Wrathion's. The gesture is a little tentative -- Wrathion does have horns, and big teeth, and any number of other large, dangerous parts that could seriously hurt him if he wanted to. But as they have established, Anduin trusts that he will not.

He trusts him.

"What I want," Anduin says softly, "is to spend this time together with you. Now is your time. You do not have near enough opportunity to choose, and although these circumstances are hardly ideal... It is the least I can do."

A pleasant thing, choice.

He lets out a low rumble of contentment, then draws away a fraction -- leans back just enough that as smoke begins to curl around him and his form reduces down he's not entirely on top of Anduin.

A moment later his human form is reaching over for the one blanket he has with him, drawing it around his shoulders and then enveloping himself around Anduin in turn.

"There we are," he murmurs, "you came all this way to heal me and make sure I am safe. This is the least I can do, I think."

Hold him for a moment, offer him warmth.

It is a strange thing, to be leaning up against the shoulder of such a large creature in one moment -- and then to be wrapped up in Wrathion's arms in another. It will take him some time to adjust to the idea that the two beings are one and the same. But he will enjoy having the opportunity to do so.

Anduin leans back into Wrathion's chest, tipping his head back against his shoulder and reaching to rest a hand on one of the arms around him.

"I came to see you safe," he agrees, "and... just to see you."

He turns to glance at Wrathion over his shoulder for a moment, flashing him a self-conscious smile before he continues, "It is... Not as easy as you might think, to sit back and wait for news."

He hums in acceptance at that, squeezing Anduin a little tighter and tipping his face forward to rest against blond hair.

"Inaction was never something I would have associated with you," he agrees. "Forgive me for keeping you waiting."

No doubt he was worried. Unhappy. Afraid. Wrathion cannot prevent such a thing, when the world here is so turned against them, but he still regrets that it has happened this way.

"You don't need to apologize. This is not your fault," Anduin reassures, squeezing his hand on Wrathion's arm in return. Wrathion hadn't asked for this target to be painted on his back, but it had been there nevertheless, since the moment he had set foot in this world. Still... It wasn't fair. It isn't fair.

Anduin squeezes his eyes shut. It won't do -- he can't afford to think like that. It doesn't help either of them, and he knows in a few hours' time, or the end of the day, or perhaps even tomorrow if he is very convincing, he will have to leave him here and go back to the village. Alone. And they will have to repeat this cycle again.

"The tension in the village is building," he says, after a long moment's pause. "It won't be long before it reaches a breaking point. I cannot say for certain what will happen when it does, but knowing what we have already uncovered thus far... I fear for them. And for you. I am just one man, Wrathion. I..."

Try hard as he might, he cannot save them all. But where does he draw the line?

"It is their village," he offers softly. "Their belief system, their choices to make. It is one thing to save people on a ship headed for rocks, it is another to save a culture from its own beliefs."

Much of this is ingrained, generations of belief. They can try to help, try to uncover anything unsavoury, but if they interfere too much and things worsen then they will shoulder all the blame for the fallout -- and shoulder it Anduin will. He will be unable to do anything else.

Wrathion lets his eyes close, letting his cheek rub into Anduin's soft, pale hair as he thinks.

"I will not put myself in unnecessary danger, but you must promise me you will do the same. There is little point in me protecting myself only to lose you."

Wrathion is right. Anduin knows that he's right. That doesn't make him feel any better about it, though. It doesn't stop the sensation that he shouldn't be doing more to help these people.

Wrathion had warned him off of such things once before. This place is not Stormwind. He is not responsible for its people nor the things that happen here. He cannot hold himself to such a standard, not with the same expectations he might have had back home.

Anduin turns in Wrathion's arms after a long moment, allowing himself to burrow into the warmth of the blanket that Wrathion has wrapped around them. Letting himself take comfort in the warmth of Wrathion's embrace. He can't help but feel at least a little guilty for it. Wrathion is the one who has been on the run these past few days, not him. But he appreciates the comfort that his companion is offering nevertheless. He can feel himself starting to become overwhelmed by it all, and he just needs... This. Wrathion.

"I promise," he says, softly. The words half-mumbled into Wrathion's chest. "I promise to be careful, I just. I can't just sit back and do nothing, Wrathion, I can't. For them. For you. I could never live with myself if I -- didn't at least try..." Try what, he cannot say for certain, but nevertheless...

Wrathion loosens his grip to let Anduin turn in his arms, tightens it again as the priest settles facing him.

"Of course," he murmurs, "I understand. I do."

He shuffles Anduin more comfortably in his lap, turns his face into blond hair once more and absorbs the closeness.

"But we have survived worse than this."

So they'll make it. They have to. There's simply no other acceptable outcome.

It's true, they have survived worse than even their present circumstances. The Beastmaster may be an imposing figure, but they have both lived through invasions of demons, constructs of the Old Gods. Anduin has fought in battle before, he -- should not feel this intimidated. Overwhelmed.

Anduin takes a long moment to simply allow himself to be held by Wrathion. To rest his head against Wrathion's chest and soak in his warmth, his quiet strength.

"We have," he agrees, at last. "We have come through so much and -- and more. We are here at long last and I..." Anduin presses his eyes shut for a long moment, wetting his lips as he struggles to put his thoughts to words. "It has been. Some time now since I have wanted for something like this. Perhaps. It is that which frightens me."

Wanting for it, when he knows that there is a real chance they could lose it all. It's making him feel desperate and desperation doesn't always lead to the best of choices made, historically speaking.

Wanted.

Wrathion hadn't ever imagined a world where he'd be... wanted. Where Anduin Wrynn of all people would want for him. It makes heat flush through him, makes his stomach muscles tighten as he thinks about it.

His leans back and releases his hands from Anduin, snags off his gloves then wraps one arm back around him -- uses the fingers of his other hand to gently tilt Anduin's face back up.

"You do not have to want for something you already have."

Anduin isn't certain what Wrathion is doing at first, pulling back and releasing him. Is he about to tell him he should go back to the village? Not now, not yet, he isn't ready -- not when he's feeling this fragile.

But Wrathion's touch quickly returns, his hands warmer now without the barrier of Wrathion's leather gloves between them. When the dragon reaches for his face, Anduin leans into the touch, letting him tilt his chin up to meet his eyes, his expression softening as Wrathion speaks.

Something you already have.

Anduin reaches out to place a hand flat on his companion's chest.

"Perhaps I do not," he agrees. "But I fear rather the opposite is true." He flashes Wrathion the barest of smiles. "Now that I know I can have you, I do not want to let you go. I just..." Anduin's eyes fall slightly. "I am frightened for you, Wrathion. I am trying, but. I don't know what to do."

Frightened for him.

Wrathion leans in enough to touch their foreheads together, hand sliding down from Anduin's face to loop back around him.

His chest aches, heart racing uncomfortably fast.

"If either of us knew what to do, we'd be doing it. The both of us are putting all we have into surviving, and I think we can consider ourselves suitably motivated. The last thing I want to do is lose even a minute of the time I have with you."

After all, one way or another he knows that time will end.

Anduin tips his head forward against Wrathion's, squeezing his eyes shut as Wrathion's arms loop back around him. After a moment, he moves to wrap his arms around Wrathion in return.

"Nor do I," he says. He turns his head to bury his face in Wrathion's shoulder, taking in a deep and shuddering breath and letting it out slowly.

"I know that it would do neither of us any good for me to stay here out here with you," he points out. "It would certainly make me feel a lot better, though." He sighs softly. "I am sorry. I don't mean to put this on you, when you are the one who have to go through the worst of these troubles."

Wrathion lets out a low rumble of pleasure as Anduin loops his arms around him, as he leans his face into his shoulder and relaxes into his arms.

"You help me more there," he assures Anduin. "You are my eyes and ears in the village, what the Beastmaster is doing. What the plan is with the Huntress. Who is doing what. People leaving and arriving, Hok-Shinn activities, the two other villages -- all of this is outside of my reach now."

He reaches for Anduin's hair, gently slips it loose from its tie and begins running his fingers through it slowly. An attempt to soothe him the way he himself was soothed, with gentle repetitive motions on top of the warmth of being tucked into his arms.

"Not that I might the company, quite the opposite. It isn't every day I get to say I had the High King of the Alliance sitting in my lap."

Anduin lets out the breath of a laugh at that, turning his head into the touch, the feeling of Wrathion's fingers running through his hair. It does make him feel better. Wrathion's gentle words, his gentle touch. Sitting in his lap, being held by him.

"Well," Anduin replies, "it isn't everyone that gets to say they've had the honor of such a thing either."

He pulls back just enough to look Wrathion in the eyes, offering him a soft smile and reaching out to smooth Wrathion's own hair back from his face in return.

"Your eyes and ears in the village," he echoes, considering the words. "I suppose I could take a page out of Mathias Shaw's book and collect intelligence for you. It does feel a little more exciting if I consider it as some sort of an assignment, rather than -- the alternative."

"Perhaps you'll discover a way to stop the Beastmaster, or to protect me from his influence. I think that would be a very important assignment."

Wrathion smiles, leaning his face into the hand pushing his hair back and rubbing against it affectionately.

"Do not doubt yourself, Anduin. Everything you do has value to me, even just... being here."

Keeping him company. Offering him comfort. That has immense value, even if it may not seem to. Anduin braving the dangers of the forest to bring him small offerings of food is a highlight in an otherwise dark time.

Anduin lowers his eyes bashfully, though it pleases him to hear Wrathion's reassurance. Everything you do has value to me.

It isn't as though Anduin had thought otherwise. But it is different to hear such things said aloud. To have Wrathion tell him such things so directly. To understand just how much faith this man really does have in him. It makes a difference -- it matters.

"I am grateful that you think so," Anduin says, raising his eyes again to meet Wrathion's once more. "That you believe in me. I understand that I might not necessarily be everyone's first choice of a hero, but." He moves his hand through Wrathion's hair to cup the side of his face. "I -- would like to be that for you. To keep you safe." His mouth twists wryly. "Well. As much as I can, given the circumstances."

Anduin's smiles are always so warm, full of affection.

It's agony not to immediately mimic the gesture, cupping his face in turn, but Wrathion feels his own clumsiness like a pair of iron weights. He is inexperienced in deploying these motions gracefully, uncertain where the boundaries of this shared intimacy are.

"Naturally black dragons need very little protection," he says, and this is just talking for the sake of talking now. Filling space. Anduin's hand is still touching him and Wrathion presses into it, revels in the contact of fingers against his skin. "However if we were to require it, a priest of the Light is a useful champion to have."

Edited (space) 2022-05-04 23:13 (UTC)

Anduin brushes his fingers back and forth against the skin of Wrathion's cheek, simply meeting Wrathion's eyes for a long moment as he considers this. Considers him.

Black dragons are large and impressive creatures. He has seen that first-hand himself today, meeting Wrathion's true form face-to-face, made all the more impressive knowing that he is still young, that he still has much more growing left to do. But he knows just as impressive as they are, they are not invincible. The skin of a black dragon's hide may boast tough scales, but claws or swords will still penetrate them, if their edges are sharp enough.

He has seen evidence of that today first-hand as well -- though it is gone now. Angry tears made whole by the healing touch of the Holy Light. Just because the wounds are gone now, however, does not mean they did not happen.

"I will do my best to see that you stay in one piece," he reassures, perhaps more solemnly than he had intended to.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject