westwhere | [ CLOSED ] Twisting, constricted

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[ CLOSED ] Twisting, constricted

WHO: Wrathion & Visitors
WHEN: April: Beastmaster's Arrival & Aftermath
WHERE: Ke-Waihu & then... the forests around Ke-Waihu. Cosy caves.
WHAT: Wrathion clocks the Beastmaster arriving and immediately Nopes Out. Plot here!
WARNINGS: Awkward cuddling huddled by a blanket ft UST in a cave.

As soon as the Beastmaster draws near to Ke-Waihu, Wrathion slinks from the village and takes flight through the forest. He can be seen, occasionally, flying over the tree-tops in the area being pursued by the Beastmaster's creatures. Those who know him well, or those good at following tracks, can find him hiding out in a cave avoiding them while he waits out the Beastmaster's powers fading.

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The disappointment. The double entendre gets picked up by the dragon and not by Anduin? This is tragic. And she shouldn't be mean and carry on, but there's something so tempting about the fluster of red on Anduin's cheeks when he does notice and she says it before she can reconsider her words:

"It's a shame, it sounds like a game for two. I'd have to watch, I suppose."

And this part did not intend to sound so bloody suggestive, but the words are out there and she just knows Wrathion - if not also Anduin - will pick up on it, so she rushes to add: "To learn the rules."

Nailed it.

Ah, yes, this is all going about how he expected. Wrathion leans over to examine the food Anduin has brought with him, keeping his tone idle.

"Obviously we'd make an effort to include you," he tells her, "we'd take it in turns."

Makes perfect sense to him! It wouldn't be polite to exclude a guest.

Edited (posted early somehow) 2022-04-26 17:57 (UTC)

Anduin has been bringing food that he knows will travel well enough, and that Wrathion will enjoy. So far, it's been a lot of meat buns and dumplings, because they pack well. Today's options are no different, an assortment of rice balls, buns, and dumplings he's managed to charm out of his village contacts.

Anduin's face is a very pretty shade of pink now indeed as he sets the lot of it out in front of them. Take it in turns...

"Of course," Anduin agrees, as he fusses. "Wrathion and I both have different styles of play, after all. Ah, that is. The game is about balance. You'd understand the strategy much better if you learned from us both."

Light, why does everything suddenly sound like a suggestion?

It's a really good thing that she's not drinking or chewing anything, because that would've made her cough and choke on it. (Take that as you will.)

She is absolutely not going to team up with Wrathion in making Anduin's life difficult. Anymore.

"Maybe another time, then!" she pipes up, with a little smile that's meant to dispel whatever unease the literal priest of the Light was feeling there. "When we're not looking over out shoulders constantly - assuming we ever get that again." She darts a glance between the two of them and lets out a bittersweet laugh. "If I think about it hard enough, I think the last time I actually relaxed was the boat to Elletheia. How strange is that?"

Wrathion lounges out and selects a meat bun, taking a slow bite and enjoying it as he watches the two of them talk.

"Elletheia wasn't terrible, mirrors and various emergencies aside. At the lighthouse we had bathing facilities. The nights were a little unsettled, but there was no extended peril or suffering. The same cannot be said for here."

He's had quite enough of the sensation of being unsafe, that imminently something looming may undo them. Something he had no direct, concrete method of stopping.

Thank you for putting an end to that, Hermione. He may very well have spontaneously combusted before too much longer...

Anduin lets out a long, slow sigh, reaching for one of the rice balls himself, playing with it in his hands as he thinks.

"I keep hoping that we will find ourselves somewhere we might be able to... Relax," Anduin admits. "I get the feeling, however, that so long as the Merchant is the one directing our party it is unlikely to happen. He may claim to be leading us toward the beacons in this world, but. We would be foolish not to consider another motive besides. Especially given our little side trip into Ellethia."

They have been in this village for months, after all, and he certainly has not heard mention of any beacons himself, at least. Is that not the whole idea of why they would have been led here? The more troubles that arise, the less it seems worth staying in this village, truth be told.

It's fine, they can go from discussing the cursed game to discussing something serious. Hermione pulls a little face at the mention of the Merchant, and shakes her head. "Oh no, I don't trust him. I think he's keeping himself distant intentionally, and it's very clear that whatever happened in Elletheia, he is using us as pawns in his game, whether it's one for revenge or power. Or both."

She grimly picks up a little rice ball of her own, and takes a nibble out of it, pausing to chew and swallow. Digest the facts she just blurted out. Soften them, maybe, with this:

"I miss the baths in Taravast, to be honest." A pause, and she looks up at them both. "Although...you won't have been there long enough to use them, would you?" This is a grim enough conversation as it is, that Hermione tries to lighten it with something... Scrambles for it, and blurts out: "You know my supposed false identity there was expert modiste from abroad?"

Wrathion shoots Anduin a silent unreadable look, remembering their discussion about their positions in Taravast. His own, and how he came to accept it. Anduin's own. He takes another bite of his meat bun, shifting to sit up more, adjusting his position just enough that his arm brushes against Anduin's. A small amount of tangible support.

"A modiste," he repeats, curious. "I hope you were at least supplied with clothing to sell. Anduin was never assigned a secondary identity, that I recall. He came too late for that. I do wonder what they might have selected for him, given the chance. Perhaps a roguish gentleman of means engaged to more than one person, keeping them both strung along?"

Or is that him? He simply cannot keep up.

Anduin catches the glance that Wrathion sends his way, the light brush of his arm, and he offers him the ghost of a smile in return. Anduin's arrival into Taravast had been -- less than pleasant. Both because of the uprising that had been going on at the time, the unrest in the city, and the assignment that the Merchant had saddled him with at that. He is grateful to have had Wrathion's support, both then and now.

Even if he is enjoying himself a little too much with this whole engagement scenario. Anduin gives him a look at that, raising one eyebrow and huffing out a breath of amusement despite himself.

"Well," Anduin replies, "I suppose if I had been assigned the role of roguish charmer, I would certainly know who to turn to for inspiration." He raises his eyebrows pointedly. "Although this would be an assignment for me, I remind you. I'm sure it wouldn't have been anything as exciting as you would hope. Likely just another foreign dignitary, or. A groom, perhaps?"

Then again, maybe that's someone's fantasy after all.

She chokes a little on a bite of her rice ball, because Wrathion's question doesn't know the half of it. "I was given corsets and codpieces, for the record. One enchanted one, that screamed when the wearer thought impure thoughts." She declares it in the wake of Anduin's hypothesising.

"Which you could buy off me now." Another bite of rice ball, and she points out: "If you ever need a beacon."

Wrathion's eyebrows loft at screamed when the wearer thought impure thoughts, then furrow in thought as he takes another bite of his meat bun.

"Mmm, we probably should take it off you," he agrees after a moment, "might set the thing of if you touch it accidentally."

He's not at all sure Hermione is free of impure thoughts, if anything she seems to be having them quicker than he or Anduin.

"An -- enchanted codpiece?" Anduin blurts out, finding his eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline. It's for the best that he hasn't taken a bite of his food just yet, otherwise he might be choking as well.

He raises a hand to rub his face. Honestly, there are probably more ridiculous things back in Azeroth (most of them likely goblin-made no doubt), he just hasn't had to deal with most of them directly.

Glancing aside at Wrathion, he keeps his eyebrows raised.

"Beacon is right. I'm not so certain that either of us having possession of such a thing would be a wise decision. All things considered..."

He's just saying, if they're planning on keeping this on the down-low, that would not be the way to do it.

She gives Wrathion such a stern glare, eyes narrowing at him, specifically. Imagine the audacity of implying that she's the one with impure thoughts. To her face.

"It's," she specifies in a flat tone, "a codpiece." So no, she can't be the one wearing it, thank you. Then in comes Anduin with an almost innocent point: neither of them should wear the piece. Good. This is why Anduin is king, these good ideas.

"It's fine, it's safe in here," she reassures them both, patting the enchanted bag at her hip. "I haven't quite figure out what to transfigure it into, and I think maybe the enchantments would be interesting to study? It is, after all, an efficient alarm."

Wrathion shoots Anduin a disappointed look that says he is a fun killer, a killer of fun, sucking all the joy out of life.

"You're sure the enchantment wouldn't carry? You might make it into a screaming hat instead."

An amusing mental image, at least in Wrathion's opinion. He doesn't imagine himself suffering wearing it, after all.

Anduin raises his eyebrows at Wrathion. What! He's just stating a fact! You may want to tease Hermione, but you will quickly become the butt of that joke, were you to actually possess such a thing. At least. He assumes so. Anduin himself certainly would.

He wrinkles his nose at the image, moving to take a bite of his rice ball as he does, settling himself more comfortably at Wrathion's side. It's nice -- to be able to relax and discuss such frankly ridiculous things in the company of people he enjoys. He frankly hasn't felt as though he has been able to relax in quite a long time now.

"For someone to then wear it on their head?" he asks. "After it's been a codpiece?" He makes a face, then glances at Hermione. "Are you telling us that you're still carrying that thing around to study it?"

This is an amused face, Hermione. A very fond, very amused face indeed.

It's oddly refreshing and sweet to observe, and see, this is exactly why she wouldn't duel Anduin for Wrathion's affections. It's much nicer to know they both happy, in this bleak and cursed place.

Except there's judgement in the tone of his voice when he asks if that's why she kept the codpiece, and she might reconsider. Violence could be the answer.

"When I'd have a moment - which hasn't happened much because everyone's reckless and dumb and needs a constant supply of healing potions!"

Reckless and dumb! Wrathion narrows his eyes at that, then picks up a meat bun and throws it at Hermione.

Rude.

"Of course I'm quite sure Hermione has never performed a reckless act in her life," he says dryly. "Although she did briefly ask me if I could teach her to use a weapon."

Then, because he does actually want to eat something, he reaches to grab a rice ball to actually eat instead of pelt someone with.

Anduin lets out the bright burst of a laugh as Wrathion throws his meat bun at Hermione -- no, he does not need to guess as to who she might have been referring to, with that reckless comment.

"Teach you to use a weapon?" he asks, glancing aside to raise his eyebrows at Hermione. He supposes that there could be worse weaponmasters to learn from than Wrathion, all things considered. "Which one? If you're looking to up your skills in archery, I may be a little rusty now but I used to be quite good. And -- well, I can do my best to instruct you about wielding a sword, although I will not claim to be an expert. Shalamayne is as much a symbol as it is a weapon."

Hermione has never played Quidditch in her life; Hermione lacks the hand-eye coordination to defend herself from the tossed bun, even if it is potentially not aimed at hitting her but for her to catch it. It still smacks her in the chin, and lands promptly in her lap, while she gives Wrathion her withering indignation.

"They're for me as well, yes." Look, she's a Gryffindor. It comes with reckless bravery - mostly it comes with her impulsivity.

Not impulsive, however, was her request to learn how to use a weapon. Since the conversation comes back to it, she sighs and answers. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Anduin, but to up those skills, I'd have to have them. Some people implied that I should pick up some non-magical combat skills..."

Maybe it's time for her to study the blade.

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[ CLOSED ] Twisting, constricted

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i have no appropriate icons, life is hard

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