westwhere | [ CLOSED ] Grief will have to wait.

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[ CLOSED ] Grief will have to wait.

WHO: Wrathion & fellow travellers
WHEN: Travel Arc!
WHERE: Mistress Isakanami's inn.
WHAT: A multi-prompt travel arc extravaganza! Check here for planning something custom, or he has an end of Serthica network post here or an open inbox!
WARNINGS: None at opening

Wrathion is exhausted.

So much as he is pleased to leave Serthica, so much as he is relieved to have had results there the whole experience has left him drained. The concept, then, of having some reprieve before they launch into more lengthy travel is... appealing, to a point.

It does, he assumes, mean staying somewhere else -- and based on their previous accommodation this may not necessarily be... pleasant.

Although it would be nice if it was.

The journey is long, but being flown there is at least pleasant initially. Far better than hiking, a wagon, or having to ride another creature. Then the weather begins to cool further, and Wrathion senses that they will not be relaxing in a tropical climate.

Snow. Of course.

The Merchant, at least, appear to have selected somewhere with pleasant-seeming facilities. They are, naturally, housed with the staff and expected to perform some minor tasks...

Still. If this place is devoid of any major problems, it does have potential. A hot springs in the mountains brings back fond memories, of a far flung place long ago. Of a time when he was young, before he felt the bitter sting of consequence.

It is also, so far, blessedly free of hozen.

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Anduin closes his eyes as Wrathion presses their foreheads together, a soft smile spreading its way across his face even as he pulls away.

"Thanks," he says, reaching out to take Wrathion's hand and using it to pull himself up to stand. Where he had not minded sitting close together or the small displays of affection while they had been in the water, standing exposed to the air like this is -- Uncomfortable. Not that it isn't anything Wrathion has not seen before, but he still is somewhat uncertain of his body. The scars. And supposing anyone else might be able to see...

Anduin reaches for the towels they have set aside by the edge of the pool, handing one to Wrathion.

"Here," he says. "Dry off before you freeze like that."

Wrathion takes it easily and then, just to prove a point about how unbothered he is by the cold, pats his face and the back of his neck first. See? Nothing to worry about. He's a dragon, and completely above ever feeling cold.

He does, however, drape it over his shoulders before he begins to step out of the pool and reach for his robe. The water is beginning to quickly evaporate off his skin despite the icy weather, rising in faint clouds. He stands casually, pats a little more water off before shrugging on the robe and tying it.

"When you're ready," he says, and drags his eyes back to watch Anduin. He's doing his best not to seem in a rush, they can collect their things and return to their room at their leisure.

Anduin wraps his own towel around his shoulders as he follows Wrathion in carefully climbing out of the pool. He finds himself pleasantly surprised when his body doesn't immediately protest both the cold and the movement. Still.

He can't help but feel as though Wrathion is showing off, the way that the water evaporates against his skin. Pretending he isn't affected by the cold, when Anduin knows otherwise. He raises an eyebrow to suggest as much, quickly toweling himself off before grabbing his own robe up and wrapping himself up warm.

"Well, you might not freeze out here, but I certainly will," he says. He slides his feet into the slippers that the inn has provided, tugging the towel up to wrap around his neck like a scarf. "Let's go."

He wonders if they should stop by the kitchens first and grab some food to take with them, or simply head back to the room to warm up first. He glances aside at Wrathion, bumping his shoulder against him. "Are you hungry?"

He shakes his head, toeing on his slippers and moving towards the inn.

"No," he confirms, "not right now. Tea will suffice."

He's not quite settled enough to eat immediately, not hungry. Perhaps later, but for now some tea will help him unwind. The dragon stays in step with Anduin, reaching to push open the door and guide them back into the warmth of the building once more. Wrathion shivers as the heat hits his skin, grateful to be out of the icy weather.

"Get something if you want," he offers. Just because he isn't going to eat doesn't mean Anduin cannot.

Anduin smiles, a little self-consciously. He has a healthy appetite, and he wouldn't mind bringing a little something back to the room with them to snack on. He feels as though it will help him settle himself.

"I'll... See what they have available from the kitchen," he replies. "We'll need to pop down to grab the pot of tea from them anyway."

Following Wrathion inside, he crosses his arms over his chest, rubbing them to try and warm himself up.

"I can't decide whether it would be best to fetch everything and retreat to our room first, or get dressed first and then go down to the kitchens." He flashes Wrathion a smile. "I'm not all that keen on walking around like this, but I also don't feel as though I'll want to leave the room again, once I finally warm up."

"I'm sure they've seen plenty of guests in robes."

Given the nature of things, surely it is a common sight? He pauses in the hallway, tilting his head at Anduin as he waits his decision. Is it so complex?

"Would you like me to accompany you?"

Would that make it easier? Both of them heading down to the kitchen together? He's not sure fetching a teapot and a snack is a two person job, but he supposes that depends exactly how large of a snack Anduin is planning on retrieving. If he wants a whole meal then it might make things more difficult.

Anduin offers Wrathion a gentle smile in response to his offer of support. Even if he had not meant it as such, he -- appreciates the gesture. And Wrathion himself.

No, he is not planning on getting all that much in the way of food. But, it will be easier to carry things with four hands than two. And more than that... It's easier to normalize walking around in a robe when Wrathion is doing it too.

So even if it makes him feel a bit silly for the request, he nods.

"Please," he says, softly. "I would not wish to keep you waiting on my account."

It is not technically a lie.

He nods, turning and beginning to pace down towards the kitchens. The robe doesn't particularly bother him, as an item of dress. He's covered, after all, and the thought of someone seeing his shins doesn't quite scandalise him. The kitchen staff barely spare them a glance, and Wrathion sets himself to retrieving a teapot and two cups for them -- preparing the tea and water and then waiting while Anduin decides what he'd like to eat. When he's ready, Wrathion retrieves the pot and cups to carry through. No need for a tray, since he has two hands and the cups stack quite neatly. He hangs back for Anduin to slide open the screen door since both his hands are busy, sets down the teapot in a free patch of floor out of the way and his two cups. Hands free, he then sits himself on one of the floor mattresses and begins unwinding his damp hair from its tie.

"The jihui board should be with my bag. You would prefer to eat first, or as we play?"

Either suits him. He shrugs off his robe, searches among his things for a shirt to change into.

While Wrathion collects the things for the tea, Anduin spends some time charming the kitchen staff into preparing him a plate of warm dumplings and buns to bring back with them. It isn't much, but all he had been looking for was a bit of a snack anyway. Something reminiscent of their time in the inn in Pandaria for that matter, if he's being entirely honest. He thanks the workers for their kindness and follows Wrathion back out, opening the door for him when needed.

"I had not imagined this to be any grand meal," Anduin replies, setting the plate down with the tea things before digging the jihui board out as instructed. "The food is here. We can eat as we like -- or not. Whatever pleases you."

Setting the board out with the rest of things, he glances up and offers Wrathion a warm smile, before moving to dig through his own bag for a clean change of clothes as well.

It may not be a grand meal, but if Anduin was hungry enough Wrathion would be happy to wait for him to eat first. He's aware concentration suffers when the body is deprived. The priest doesn't seem fussed, however, so Wrathion slips on his clean shirt and a loose pair of slacks before settling down properly. He finger-combs the damp ends of his curls, frowning as they catch on a snarl.

"The food was for you," he points out, "eat whenever you prefer. I only meant to ask if you'd rather we wait so you can finish first."

He turns to pull his bag closer, fishing out a comb to try and do something about his hair.

Anduin quickly dresses himself in his own pair of loose-fitting pants and equally comfortable shirt, a set that he had acquired in Ke-Waihu, before he turns back to regard Wrathion. Tugging his own hair down from its loose ponytail bun before it dries like that, and watching Wrathion fussing with his own curls.

"Can I help?" he asks, speaking he realizes before his brain has really even caught up with what he is saying.

He flushes slightly but moves closer again nevertheless. Joining Wrathion on the floor mattress he is sitting on and reaching out a hand to comb his fingers gently through Wrathion’s curls himself. Tucking a stray curl behind his ear. Just in case there had been any question as to what he had been asking after.

Ah.

... He can comb his own hair, however. He doesn't need help. Why would he? Yet Anduin's mannerism says that he likes the idea, that he might... enjoy doing this. Grooming is, Wrathion supposes, an intimate act. Surely this does come under the kind of act that a consort would take to? ... Depending on the consort, of course.

"If you would like to," he allows finally, and offers his small comb to Anduin. "It would, of course, be your privilege."

A hint of a teasing smile pulls at his lips, just enough to let Anduin know he isn't entirely serious.

Anduin reaches out to accept the comb from his companion, a bit surprised at his own bravado for offering. A little more surprised that Wrathion had accepted. He's never certain where the line is drawn in the sand, what might be too intimate a gesture for his companion. Then again, Wrathion has allowed him much further than this, in the private setting of their bedchamber...

And then Wrathion continues on. His privilege. Anduin resists the urge to roll his eyes, but only just.

"It is an honor," he says, wryly.

Wrathion has the sense he's being made fun of.

His eyes narrow, suspicious, but he doesn't rise to it -- only turns just enough to allow Anduin more access to his hair. Instead, he begins to arrange pieces on the jihui board.

The giving up of control has him a little uneasy, nobody has ever combed his hair for him before, but in truth it isn't so different to Anduin playing with it. The only difference is the purpose, less for affectionate enjoyment and more for function.

He tries not to pay too much attention to Anduin's movements, not to seem as if he's anticipating the touch, but he is.

Anduin smiles as he shifts the comb in his hands, considering his next move. He feels more than a little self-conscious of his actions -- what if he's terrible at this? Can a person be terrible at this? It's not as though he's ever attended a person before, though. He's always been the one being attended to. Still...

It can't be that hard, can it? He's brushed his own hair before. And he can remember having to sit still as Wyll had brushed it for him in turn. It isn't exactly the feeling he's going for, with the gesture, but the memory brings warmth to him, and the courage to reach forward. Running his fingers through Wrathion's curls to start, he separates out a section of his hair and hesitantly begins combing out the ends of it first.

"...I've never done this for anyone but myself," he says, talking for the sake of breaking his own nervous silence. "I won't be offended if you tell me that I'm doing it wrong."

Edited (words are hard) 2023-01-01 19:07 (UTC)

Can hair be combed incorrectly? Wrathion supposes you could pull at it if you were rough.

"Well," he says finally, "I've never had this done by anyone but myself. That makes us even."

Wrathion has nothing to compare to beyond his own hands, so he wouldn't know if there is a better technique for this sort of thing. He pauses in fidgeting the jihui pieces into place, head turning just a fraction as his attention pinpoints more openly toward Anduin.

"... You enjoy this?"

Beyond it obviously being a privilege. Anduin did ask to do it, but he's saying he's never done it for anyone else before. So, is it... living up to his desires?

The question makes Anduin feel more than a little self-conscious about his actions, and he ducks his head slightly, working the comb gently through a tangle in Wrathion's curls before he offers up a reply.

"I...do, yes," he says, flicking his eyes up to meet Wrathion's with a smile before looking back down towards his work. "Is that strange? I like your hair, and. Well. I like you."

Perhaps it is a little domestic. But -- perhaps that is also something that Anduin enjoys in the gesture. That he should be allowed this small thing, with a person he loves.

Is it?

Wrathion considers that a long moment, considers if he would enjoy combing out Anduin's hair. Perhaps not as much or as easily as Anduin enjoys this, but... if he were styling him for an event. Dressing him to match, perhaps, putting his own subtle mark on the way he looked? That would be pleasurable.

There's a pause as he weighs up how much to say, then:

"I'd like to make you something."

Not that he hasn't already done that. So, then, to clarify:

"You've no doubt seen my tailoring supplies from Serthica."

Clothing, specifically.

Anduin blinks, before nodding slightly.

"I have, yes," he replies. The bundles of cloth Wrathion had received in Serthica and then those scissors that are honestly a weapon in and of themselves. Tailoring supplies... Anduin is aware of this being a talent of Wrathion's. Although the idea of Wrathion making something for him, dressing him.

His face colors slightly. It's not an unpleasant thought. He certainly doesn't mind wearing Wrathion's wrist cuff, made especially for him, and that was for practical purposes.

"I'd like that," he says, softly. Wishing he had more to offer himself, in return. "Did you... Have something in mind?"

He wants to turn and look at Anduin properly, but that would make it so he couldn't comb his hair. Difficult, because Wrathion would really like to study the man's expression as he answers this question. The nuance of it, how long he considers, if he hesitates.

"Is there something you'd like?" he asks. "I'd prefer it to be something useful, something you would wear more than once."

Something he'd wear often, and think of Wrathion in the process.

"Not that I couldn't also provide something for more... special occasions."

He could make something fancy, too, but... well. It would also be enjoyable to make something Anduin wore more frequently. Something he could see him in, and privately know it was his own creation.

Edited (forgot to pick an icon oops) 2023-01-02 23:21 (UTC)

Wrathion may be wishing he could meet his eyes, although Anduin does not mind the fact that Wrathion is missing the burning of his cheeks as he considers the question. The possibilities.

Is there something he would like?

He imagines the pair of them attending some sort of an event. Imagines what Wrathion might dress him in for such an occasion. Imagines wearing something that Wrathion had made for him there, in front of all those people, for Wrathion, knowing he knew.

His face colors further. Such a thought is slightly impractical for their present situation. Much as he enjoys the thought of it. And he'd like to get to wear it more than once as well. Like to see the look in Wrathion's eyes as he catches him in it...

"You're more the expert on these things than me, I'm afraid," Anduin says, taking a moment to comb his fingers through Wrathion's hair instead. "Perhaps..." He trails off, fingering the cuff of Wrathion's collar. "A shirt is useful, is it not?"

A shirt?

A simple enough choice, but then again Anduin has never been someone who particularly craves complication.

"A shirt would be easy enough," Wrathion allows. "Perhaps something smart to wear over it, too, when the occasion calls."

A jacket? A waistcoat? Both? Anduin has his own style, which Wrathion is cognizant may largely not be... a choice so much as a uniform at times. Would he prefer something else? Something casual? Or is there comfort in it for him, a sense of the familiar?

Anduin's face colors further. A shirt is simple. Honestly, he is self-conscious of asking for more, for too much, even if he knows that Wrathion would give it to him. Perhaps because Wrathion would give it to him.

"If it would not be too much," he replies himself. "I do not have much with me here. The things I have gathered along the way, but they are... Simple, at best."

He ducks his head slightly, smiling a bit self-consciously at himself.

"Aside from the court attire I was wearing when I arrived, but that isn't..." His? Except it is. And yet. He lets out a breath. "Do you know, I have had someone dress me for most of my life, and yet. I don't know that the things they chose were ever necessarily for me. I... Think it would be nice, for a change. To have you do that. For it to be you."

The emphasis here is interesting. There is some particular quality, it seems, to having Wrathion pick the clothing that appeals Anduin -- which is good given that Wrathion finds it appealing to. He can only wonder if they find it appealing for the same reason.

Perhaps one day he'll be able to say what he wants so assuredly, but today is not that day. Instead, he turns just enough to study Anduin out of the corner of his eyes.

"Then that is what we will do," he says simply. "I'll sketch out a design and you can let me know if it suits."

As he had done with the cuff, before he had simply produced the masterpiece that Anduin now wears on his person almost always.

He can feel Wrathion's attention upon him, and he focuses his own attention on simply running the comb through his companion's curls for the moment. Teasing out any tangles he might find, taking care not to pull or snag.

"I admire your talents," he says, after a long moment. "My tutors... Crafting was never one of the skills they thought important for me to pick up, either as the heir to the throne or in my studies to become a priest. Possibly, in retrospect, because I was still heir."

He shifts the comb in his hands, running his fingers through Wrathion's curls again. He has gotten it mostly combed out by this point after all. "I can however tell you the complete history of the kingdom from memory, and I do know how to dance, so. If you are in need of a jester, perhaps?"

Edited (repetition and extra commas ) 2023-01-04 14:30 (UTC)

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