westwhere | [closed] Somewhere in the distance, I heard you calling

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[closed] Somewhere in the distance, I heard you calling

WHO: Anduin Wrynn & Wrathion
WHEN: Post-Baby Dragon Drama
WHERE: Wrathion & Anduin's shared abode
WHAT: "Seeing Wrathion distraught take 2, but this time it wasn't obscurely caused by magic"
WARNINGS: none more than the baby dragon incident, will edit as needed!

Anduin sits at the little table in his shared rooms with Wrathion, nursing a cup of tea and trying to pretend like he isn't fretting about his companion, waiting for the sound of that frankly ridiculous door to signal his arrival.

It has been a very long day, following an even longer night. After the news of the dragons from Eidris, he isn't certain how much Wrathion had slept, if at all. He isn't certain how much he had slept, come to that. Wrathion does not like to wear his emotions on his sleeve, as Anduin himself, but it had been clear the possibilities weighed on him. The uncertainty, of what could be.

The wait for the morning and the next crossing to be possible had been excruciating. When morning finally does dawn, Anduin recognizes that Wrathion does not need him tagging along. He has already made plans to do further investigation with Wei Wuxian, and there are tasks that he can do here in Minaras, to try and get to the bottom of this. Still... It had been difficult, to stay behind.

Glancing aside at the mechanical wolf where it has powered down for the day once more, Anduin wishes in this moment that it were a real dog. That he could at least take comfort in petting it.

That he might have heard at least something from Wrathion since he left this morning, that might ease the growing knot in his stomach. No. He would have sent word if something had happened, if he could not return. Anduin takes another sip of tea and wonders whether he should prepare a second pot.

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In Ellethia?

After the incident with the doorway. It takes Anduin a moment to make the connection, feeling a momentary twist of -- something at the memory of that time. Sitting at Wrathion's bedside, once he had fallen unconscious, and the encounter afterward, when he had had to leave. He had meant to be there for more, but...

It is no matter. He is here now.

"Hot chocolate," Anduin elaborates, just in case. "It will take a few minutes for me to prepare -- I do not have Hermione's skills I am afraid."

"There's no rush."

Wrathion lingers close to Anduin, trying not to get in his way but still gravitating to press into his side every opportunity he gets. The scent of hot chocolate is certainly perking his interest, although equally Wrathion leans to rest his face on Anduin's shoulder every so often. He doesn't seem to mind it, so the dragon doesn't see any particular reason to stop.

"Perhaps we should make sure we keep a stock."

Of hot chocolate. Should they fail to leave this place via the beacons and move on, they can bring some with them then. Just in case their next location doesn't have any such thing.

Anduin smiles softly at the suggestion.

"I would like that," he says, turning to press a kiss into Wrathion's hair as he monitors the temperature of the pot. Sliding away for just a moment to get the milk out of the icebox -- a real luxury in this world, to be sure -- before setting it on the stovetop to heat as well.

Anduin reaches for Wrathion again once there is nothing to do but stir pots and wait.

"I think this is one of the first things I was trusted to make on my own," he says. "After boiling water, I suppose."

Wrathion moves into the touch easily, eyes on the stove as he leans into Anduin.

"I must admit, I have little experience with cooking myself. It isn't strictly necessary."

Wrathion can, after all, hunt. He can drag a wild creature to the ground and eat it in his true form, no searing of the meat necessary -- although equally he can do that under his own power too. Sometimes he has, when the catch is to be shared with his staff. Easier for him to scorch the whole thing and then it can be cut up.

It takes Anduin a moment to understand exactly what Wrathion means by that. After all, he is only human, and thus his first response is to think like one. He has had some experience with raw food, but for cooking not to be necessary at all...?

Ah, yes. Dragon. He can't help but shake his head, smiling to himself as he wraps his free arm around Wrathion's waist and sways the pair of them together in place.

"I cannot say I have much myself," Anduin admits, although no doubt Wrathion has noticed as much by now. Has assumed. He suspects this channel of conversation is soothing, more helpful than allowing Wrathion to dwell on the day he has had however, and so he continues, "The chefs in Stormwind did allow me to help, sometimes. And some of the innkeepers, in Pandaria."

The swaying is, perhaps, a little much for Wrathion's dignity. It feels dangerously close to being rocked like an upset child, and he shoots a hesitant sideways glance toward Anduin as he begins.

"Your cooking repertoire extends to Pandaren food, then?"

Not that he thinks they're likely to find the ingredients here, but good to know should they find themselves somewhere else where they have the time and the ingredients are plentiful. He does miss good Pandaren food, after all.

Anduin meets Wrathion's gaze with the soft curl of his lips, although he does catch his intent in the look and stills the motion.

"As a matter of fact, it does," he replies, peering into the pot of milk for any sign of a simmer before turning back to the chocolate and stirring it as it melts. "I would not expect much of me, but given the chance -- I can make a few dishes."

He turns back to Wrathion with the wry twist of a smile. "Dumplings being among the number, of course."

Dumplings! Wrathion hums in thought, weight leaning into Anduin properly again once the swaying stops.

"Spicy shrimp dumplings I particularly miss."

In truth, he doesn't think he's had any particularly good dumplings for some time now. The thought is enough to make him feel hungry, and he frowns in thought at the stovetop.

Anduin hums in agreement with the thought, the mention of it making him feel a bit hungry himself.

"Yes," he says, giving the chocolate one last poke before taking it off the heat. "As well as Chun Tian Spring Rolls, and Seamist rice noodles. And... lotus buns."

The last said with a particular reverence. Although it should be no surprise. Wrathion should know of Anduin's affinity for lotus buns. And -- most Pandaran cuisine, for that matter. He had been injured, when they had first met, but it had certainly not affected his appetite.

"One day," Anduin promises, as he tips the milk into the chocolate and then begins to stir, "I will make these things for you."

"I look forward to it."

Wrathion shifts back a little to give Anduin space to work, watching curiously. The last thing they need is to be spilling hot liquid all over each other, after all. Still, he moves to retrieve two mugs and set them nearby. Hot chocolate was served to him in a mug before, and so he assumes that is right.

It is indeed right, and Anduin offers his companion a soft word of thanks as he finishes stirring the chocolate and milk together and begins to serve it out.

"They would always have something sweet to give me with this, in the kitchens in the keep," Anduin muses as he works. "A cookie or some sort of bun. You would not suppose it was necessary, as sweet as hot chocolate is. Though I think you will find I did not mind it."

He smiles softly at the memory of it. "Which I suppose was rather the point, in hindsight."

"Well," Wrathion says, "I think I have something sweet accompanying this already."

The hand he slips to rest at the small of Anduin's back hopefully indicates he isn't talking about food. Anduin is being very patient with him, and Wrathion does appreciate it. Does appreciate the space he's being afforded, the gentleness the priest is handling him with.

Anduin had been contemplating digging around in the cupboards to find whatever the next thing resembling cookies might be, but the hand on the small of his back stills him. Along with Wrathion's soft words of -- flirtation?

He turns to his companion, his cheeks slightly pinked but certainly not looking displeased by the attention, and offers him the twist of a smile in return.

Setting the now empty pot aside, he reaches up to run a hand through Wrathion's hair -- a different texture than his own, for the curls, but still soft. Tucking it back behind his ear with the motion. He has not forgotten the reason why the pair of them are standing here in this kitchen. Why Wrathion has found himself so in need of his comfort, just now. Wrathion very likely has not himself, for that matter. But Anduin figures he must be doing something right, that Wrathion can find it within himself for soft touches, and softer words.

"You are not so bad yourself," he replies, and gently tugs Wrathion in for a kiss.

Wrathion would not, exactly, have ever called himself sweet -- but he can appreciate the compliment nonetheless. It's always nice to get positive feedback.

Still, even despite the gently offered compliment Wrathion is still ill at ease. Anduin tugs him into a kiss and Wrathion cannot quite relax into it, keeps it chaste and breaks to rest his face into Anduin's neck eventually.

"Is it ready, then?"

He draws back, focus turning to the hot chocolate. It's a much better topic than him.

Anduin nods at the question, picking up a mug and pressing it into Wrathion's hands.

"I would warn you that it is still hot, but -- I suppose that I needn't worry about that, for you," he says, cocking his head to the side. Wrathion's very blood is hot enough to burn, after all. Hotter than the drink itself, Anduin is fairly certain. A little hot chocolate wouldn't hurt anything.

Picking up his own mug -- which he does have to wait to cool -- he moves to take Wrathion's hand.

"Come," he says, softly. "Let us go make ourselves comfortable."

Wrathion takes the cup, holding it easily with both hands at first and lifting it to inhale the scent of hot chocolate.

It is... pleasant. Sweet, rich. Certainly the liquid is hot, but Anduin is right -- that does not bother him. He takes a sip slowly, glances down and aside as Anduin offers him his hand. It's not... usually in his personality to allow himself to be led along. Especially not while feeling vulnerable, as if his defences are already in tatters.

Still. Rejection of this would likely be unwise. He hesitantly lets their fingers slide together, moves ahead so he's slowly drawing Anduin along instead of vice versa.

"You want to take these through?"

That had been the suggestion before, after all. So long as they don't spill them, he supposes, it should be fine.

Anduin does not mind being led himself, sliding his fingers through Wrathion's then trailing along after him.

"We'll be careful," he reassures his companion as they go. He did not wind up preparing any food so they do not need to worry about crumbs. Curling up in bed with blankets, hot chocolate, and his own personal furnace... Anduin counts himself lucky it is perpetually cooler here underground in Minaras.

"I have always found hot chocolate is better the more comfortable you are," Anduin explains, as they cross their little apartments.

That does sound sensible.

Wrathion takes a sip of the hot chocolate as they cross into the bedroom. It's certainly rich in flavour, as he expected, and he mulls that over as he sets the cup down on a bedside table.

"Then I suppose we had better get comfortable."

He begins slowly unwrapping the layers of his clothing, unfastening laces and freeing buttons. Presumably, if they are to lounge in bed then doing so fully dressed would not be appropriate? Still, he does so carefully -- allowing enough time for him to register if Anduin is doing the same or if he's alone in his undressing. If Anduin did, after all, intend to stay dressed then he can... pass it off as him loosening his clothing and just climb onto the bed this way.

Anduin moves to set his own mug down, blinking slightly as Wrathion reaches for the laces on his clothing. It -- does make sense though. If they are to get comfortable, then they should be comfortable.

"I suppose that we should," he agrees, offering a smile and reaching for the fastenings on his own vest.

For better or worse, the clothing he wears for his own role is decidedly less complicated than Wrathion's, with fewer amounts of layers besides. A bounty hunter does not need to look nice. It is some of the most practical attire he has ever worn, in that regard.

Wrathion's shawl is folded and set aside, his vest unbuttoned and removed, his shirt unlaced and pulled clear of his rumpled hair. Everything is neatly hung up, ready to sorted out at another time. Satisfied, he begins unbuckling his belt -- coiling it and stashing it away in a drawer.

"You're sure you won't be hungry?" he prompts, picking up a hair tie and a comb to begin pulling back his curls more tidily. "We can go back for something later, of course, although once you're comfortable that may be less appealing."

After they've curled up in the pile of blankets and cushions Wrathion has fashioned, he can only assume comfort may take precedence over food.

Anduin follows Wrathion's lead at a somewhat sedate pace. Removing his vest and then undoing the buttons of his shirt. He hesitates for a fraction of a second, as he always seems to do undressing before his companion, but Wrathion has seen his body before and he will think nothing of his scars or of anything else. Slipping his shirt off of his shoulders, he sets it aside along with his vest, before removing his own belt as well.

"I'll be fine," Anduin reassures his companion, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as he watches Wrathion tidy his hair. Trying not to be too obvious about the fact that he is watching, considering the day that Wrathion has had.

"As you said, we can always raid the kitchen, if we find ourselves ravenous later in the night."

He nods acceptance, unbuttons his trousers and slips them down -- folding them and setting them aside to hang so the creases might begin to fall out. He turns to Anduin, picks up the hot chocolate and moves to sit on the cover of bed likewise. Should they be pulling back the blankets, or sitting atop them? Wrathion is not entirely sure the etiquette here, his body language hesitant but curious all the same.

"You've always had a good appetite," he replies finally. Voice soft, careful, as if approaching an animal that he has to convince closer. "Fuel to grow into your broad shoulders, I assume."

Certainly Anduin has grown over the years, filling out a frame not quite as broad as his father's but... getting there.

Anduin watches as Wrathion moves on from tidying his hair to removing his trousers. Ah -- yes. He should probably consider setting about removing his own as well. In a moment...

He flashes Wrathion the quirk of a smile, ducking his head slightly in response to his companion's words. How strange, to find them both embarrassing and complimentary at once.

"Something like that," he replies. "Though I imagine that all the training I have had to do with Shalamayne has certainly helped with that. The appetite and the shoulders both, that is."

Anduin is -- aware of his own physicality. He's somewhat aware of how he looks, in the eyes of others as well, though there are parts of him that cannot help but wonder if part of that is not just because of the crown upon his head. To hear such observations from Wrathion himself is... Well. Certainly not unwelcome, to say the least.

Wrathion slips to sit up properly on the bed, long legs laid out along the cover as he takes a slow sip of his hot chocolate.

"It is certainly a heavy blade," he agrees, "something that takes strength to wield. No doubt the plate armour helps you build that strength."

It must be exhausting to move around in, but it does admittedly do the job of protecting his body. The human form has little in the way of natural armour. The skin is soft, the major organs ill protected. One strike of a blade in the right place and the whole thing simply fails in a matter of minutes. As cumbersome as the armour is, Wrathion cannot help but think Anduin might benefit from having it here if they get into more close combat.

Anduin lets out the breath of a laugh, pushing himself up to stand.

"It is terribly heavy," Anduin agrees. He reaches for the fastenings of his own trousers, unbuttoning them and pushing them down and off. He steps aside to move to set them with the rest of his outfit.

"And terribly inconvenient," he continues. "It needs to be maintained, just like a sword. And considering the fact that I first woke in an oasis pool in the middle of a desert, I have been counting my blessings that I did not have it here with me."

Anduin crosses to sit beside Wrathion on the bed now, leaning back across the headboard as he turns to him.

"There are far too many crevaces for salt, or sand, or damp to remain. I would be polishing every night, I expect."

[closed] Somewhere in the distance, I heard you calling

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