westwhere | [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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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."

There certainly would be a great deal of armour to polish, too. No doubt Anduin normally has someone to perform such a task for him. Wrathion sips his hot chocolate slowly as he thinks, adjusting himself to lean a little closer to Anduin.

"Well then," he murmurs, "it seems we will have to rely on each other in place of armour."

Hopefully, that will be enough. So far, at least, it has certainly kept them going through the past months they have been stranded here.

Anduin reaches for his own hot chocolate, cupping it between both his hands and settling more comfortably against Wrathion in return. Since they haven't moved to be underneath the blankets just yet, he'll just have to depend on Wrathion himself for warmth.

He raises his hot chocolate to blow across the top of it, allowing his head to tip sideways for the moment and rest on Wrathion's shoulder. For all that he understands that Wrathion is likely still in need of comforting, he's equally aware that his companion has a difficult time allowing himself to open up in such a way. That moment of vulnerability in the other room that Wrathion had shown demonstrated not necessarily how far Wrathion has come in trusting him, but how shaken he is. If Anduin needs to make himself vulnerable instead, for Wrathion's sake... Then so be it.

"It seems that we do," he says, before adding, "It is probably for the best, anyway." He tips his head back ever so slightly, so that he might flick a gentle smile up at Wrathion. "You are much less annoying to have to manage by far."

Well, obviously. Wrathion sniffs imperiously, feigning irritation.

"I think you'll find I require no management, thank you."

Truly, he is self sufficient and quite capable of looking after himself! He's accepting no feedback on this. Still, he does slip his hot chocolate to one hand -- moves to slide his free arm around Anduin to draw him closer.

Anduin is more than happy to be tucked in against Wrathion's side. For a start, the dragon is decidedly warmer than the air of the room. For another, it is simply good to be there with him. Good to have Wrathion huffing at him and tucking him in against his side. Anduin is not fool enough to think he may have instantly cured him of the ghosts of the day, but these are all good signs.

Anduin leans his head back more comfortably on Wrathion's shoulder, slowly curling into the heat of his companion and the mug in his hands.

"Ah, forgive me," he replies, his voice full of warmth. "I forgot that dragons managed their own staff."

"Less so here," he admits. Wrathion is used to have a large number of people in his employment. Here, he mostly has himself, Anduin, and the whims of their other party members. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly as he settles -- nose turning into Anduin's blond hair.

"Perhaps I should hire some, mmm? So that I can delegate more."

Do less things personally. Perhaps Anduin could stand to do that, too. Move themselves both back a little from the frontlines, allow them to spend more time with each other.

Anduin raises his mug to take a careful sip of his hot chocolate, letting the warmth of the beverage settle through him. Settling himself further against his companion's shoulder as Wrathion presses his face into his hair.

"You could," Anduin muses. "Is that not something an investor might do? Hire people to take care of his problems for him so that he might live in the lap of luxury himself?"

If lying in bed with Anduin and a hot chocolate could be called the lap of lurury? Anduin would take this over a great many things, personally.

That does sound appealing. Wrathion hums in thought, turning away to take another sip of hot chocolate and leaning to set it aside. He shuffles to settle down more on the bed, gathering Anduin close again.

"I will consider it," he murmurs, because it isn't a terrible idea. A pause before he adds: "you aren't cold?"

Humans feel the cool air more than he does, he knows. They can pull the blankets over themselves, if that is appropriate.

Anduin turns his face into his companion's shoulder, allowing himself to settle into the warmth of him.

"I suspect I would be more so, without you here," he replies. "My own personal draconic furnace."

That is not precisely an answer to the question that Wrathion had posed, however. After a moment, he reaches for the edge of one of the blankets and moves to tug it over the pair of them.

"Here," he says. "Let us make ourselves comfortable."

Wrathion squirms to help get his legs under the bedding with Anduin, pulls him close and lets a low, thrumming sound build up in his chest. Its a steady rumble, vibrating through them both as he settles down.

"You'll be grateful if we end up somewhere with snow," he grumbles, and rubs his face into Anduin's hair -- the sensation oddly similar to a large animal rubbing its face against something. That is, essentially, what Wrathion is doing. Its just less effective when you're in a human visage.

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

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