westwhere | [ CLOSED ] Grief will have to wait.

Entry tags:

[ 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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)

A jester? A peculiar suggestion.

"Those are hardly your only skills," he points out, subtly leaning into the touch. Not that history is useless to know, of course. History is important. History teaches lesson, gives context, and sometimes helps you find the solution to new issues. History helped Wrathion look into ways to fight N'Zoth, through the Lorewalkers.

Anduin is a healer too, though. A skilled priest. A diplomat. A leader. A soldier, if not willingly. He may not have Wrathion's talent for crafting, but that does not mean he is without merit.

Anduin strokes his fingers through Wrathion's hair again, enjoying the feeling of it through his fingers and the way that Wrathion is leaning into the touch.

"No, they are not," he agrees. He does recognize he is all of those other things. Healer, priest, diplomat, leader. Even soldier too, despite his best intentions otherwise. All the same...

"It is all very... Practical," Anduin says, at last. "The skills I was taught, that I can provide, they are useful." He shrugs, slightly, playing his fingers through Wrathion's hair some more and wondering whether he'd protest if he tried to braid it. "But -- I cannot make you something beautiful in return, as I feel you deserve. It is... Difficult, to compare."

He pauses a moment, his lips quirking up in a wry smile, before he adds, "Well. I suppose I do still owe you those lotus buns I promised I'd make."

Something beautiful.

Wrathion hesitates a long moment, then finally turns to face the priest properly. One hand reaches to catch Anduin's, lightly threading their fingers together.

"Your company is all I ask for," he says. "I need nothing else."

Beautiful things are, of course, nice. Lotus buns are nice. Yet so long as he has Anduin Wrynn with him he can endure discomforts. So long as they can at least be safe together, that is all he requires.

Anduin's fingers tighten on Wrathion's, his expression softening as he meets Wrathion's gaze in return.

It isn't that Wrathion doesn't show affection. He does, on a fairly regular basis at that, although mostly in the privacy of their own room. Which is fine with Anduin. He does not mind Wrathion's preference for privacy. He somewhat prefers it, if he's being honest with himself. It means he gets to keep this all to himself, this -- whatever it is they have together, they have not exactly put a label on it. But it is theirs and only theirs, and there is so little in Anduin's life he can truly say that of.

Wrathion does not however frequently say overly affectionate things. Perhaps because he is not in the practice of it. Perhaps because he just does not feel the need. Regardless... It does make the moments when he does count that much more.

"There is no need to ask," he replies, raising their joined hands to press a kiss against the back of his knuckles. "You already have me right here."

Wrathion offers a blink in response, not quite certain how to respond, then turns a little more and reaches out with his other hand to tease Anduin's bangs aside.

"Then I am content," he offers. "Are you done?"

With his hair? Or is there more combing to be done...? He hasn't a mirror to hand to check, but he'll trust Anduin if he decides he is finished. Equally, if he thinks it requires more work he will submit. It wasn't, after all, an unpleasant experience to be tended to. One might even say it was... enjoyable.

Anduin cocks his head to the side slightly at the brush of Wrathion's hand, a smile pulling at his lips as he does.

"Yes," he replies, brandishing the comb back to Wrathion with his other hand with something of a flourish. "I am. Thank you. For allowing me the privilege." His eyes sparkle with mischief as he repeats Wrathion's words back at him -- but he truly had enjoyed himself. And Wrathion's hair. He will always enjoy those curls. He squeezes his fingers on Wrathion's to gentle his tease as he continues, "I didn't hear any yelling. I take it that was a good sign?"

That he hadn't been pulling too hard. That he hadn't been awful at that after all. He'd joked, but he had been a little bit worried.

"You've done an acceptable job," Wrathion allows. His fingers trace down to skirt along Anduin's jaw, brushing under it teasingly while he squeezes back with the ones still laced through Anduin's own. "Methodical, as always."

His thumb swipes gently across Anduin's bottom lip, then his hand falls away to his shoulder.

"Now, I believe I did promise you some tea."

Tea and jihui, to be precise.

Anduin isn't certain whether acceptable is necessarily high praise, but he supposes that just means there is room for improvement. It certainly isn't a negative review, especially not when Wrathion's fingers are skimming across the lines of his face like that. Anduin's lips part slightly as Wrathion's thumb swipes across his lower lip, his eyes half-lidding even as Wrathion moves his hand away to rest on his shoulder.

"You did, yes," Anduin agrees, his lips curving into a smile as he gazes across into Wrathion's eyes, "before I distracted you."

Is he distracting him? Is it working? He had seen the way that Wrathion had tensed when he had asked, so this is him, not asking, and hoping (somewhat selfishly, perhaps) that perhaps the warm cocoon of their room, tea and blankets, just the two of them there together, it will help in at least some small way?

"A pleasant distraction," Wrathion observes, and he turns to begin pouring out the tea. One small cup is offered to Anduin, then he retrieves the second and cradles it between his hands. The warmth against his fingers is welcome, even if he was already plenty warm. "Don't let me keep you from your food."

Since he has left it aside, after focusing on combing Wrathion's hair. He draws the jihui board a little closer, continues carefully getting out the figures and the dice so they can play.

Anduin accepts the mug of tea, unable to keep himself from smiling at Wrathion's gentle fussing. At the care in the way he moves to set the jihui board out for the pair of them. Anduin's favorite game, and now perhaps Wrathion's as well.

Reaching forward, he tugs the plate of food closer so that they both can reach it. Taking up a dumpling and taking a bite so that Wrathion will perhaps stop worrying about keeping him from eating. See? He can eat and talk, or eat and play perfectly well, thank you.

He glances around the room as he chews, raising his tea to test its temperature, his attention catching on an object sitting in the corner of the room that doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the decor.

"We really should give it some sort of name," he says, his eyebrows furrowing slightly in thought.

Hmmm?

Wrathion turns to follow Anduin's line of sight, closing both hands around the mug as he considers the mechanical hound in the corner.

Ah.

"Did you have something in mind?"

It is Anduin's, after all. Wrathion himself refused a droid. He takes a sip of his tea, thoughtful. Considering how little Anduin appears to enjoy its company, he is surprised that it is coming along with them on the journey. Then again, perhaps given Anduin's inclination towards loyalty and duty he shouldn't be surprised. Even if the droid feels nothing, no doubt Anduin feels enough guilt for them both.

Anduin tilts his head to the side slightly, considering.

It's right of course, he doesn't feel any great sense of emotional attachment to the droid. But he had equally felt that it would be wrong for him to leave it behind when it had been assigned to him. He'd worked with the droids in Serthica, and he had come to understand... Perhaps not their emotional attachments to their humans, but their sense of duty towards them. It just did not feel right for him to abandon the dog to another master, even if he had mixed feelings about it himself.

"Well, you know it is a common practice for priests to name their animals after qualities they admire," Anduin replies. "Perhaps... We might call it Tenacity? It is one of the three tenets of the Light, after all."

"Doesn't quite flow off the tongue, does it?"

'Tenacity' feels an awkward word to be calling to try and get a droid's attention. He sips his tea thoughtfully, adjusting to sit more comfortably.

"Does it have to be a tenet of the Light?"

That would rather limit things, name-wise. His horse is 'Reverence', isn't it? That isn't one of the three tenets, that he recalls. Not that Wrathion has been spending hours in a church learning of them, but some cursory research was enough to have a solid understanding of all the base concepts.

"It doesn't," Anduin confirms, shifting in his own seat and reflecting -- how comfortable he does feel, just now. "It doesn't technically have to be named in the way of the priesthood either, I just..."

He shrugs slightly. "It is what I know." His first instinct, to follow tradition as he has done before. Technically they are not in Azeroth, and no one but Wrathion would understand the naming convention anyway. Well, and Hermione, who he has explained this to as well. Still...

"He does not seem much of a 'Rover' to me, is all," Anduin continues, with the quirk of a smile. "A mechanical guard dog. He should have a proper name, fitting to his station."

Wrathion hums in thought, moving to sit a little more behind Anduin so he can rest his chin on his shoulder. He considers the droid, one arm lazily beginning to slide around the priest's middle while the other still holds his tea.

"So a virtue of some kind, something admirable and fitting for your guard dog."

He thinks a long moment, considering the creature.

"Strength is a little literal, and runs the risk of you sounding like a Horde warrior when you shout it too much."

Anduin leans back into the warmth that Wrathion is offering, tipping his head against his companion’s for a moment as he huffs out a laugh at the image he presents.

“I think we can safely say that Strength and Honor are both off the list,” he agrees. For obvious reasons.

He raises his tea to carefully take a sip, but it is cool enough now after all their preparations to be able to drink. Savoring the flavor of the drink, he contemplates the dog, shifting the tea to be able to brace a hand against Wrathion’s arm and hold it there.

“I don’t suppose the name has to fit the creature,” he says. “Reverence — I can’t say he is or was ever exactly that.” Another flicker of a smile. “But since this dog has so very little personality whatsoever…”

"I suppose 'Duty' is a little dry, perhaps. Vigilance? An admirable trait in a working creature that hunts and protects."

After all, the droid is certainly always... alert. A trait he used to find uncomfortable, but which he's grown used to now it's not been turned against them. A tireless assistant is never a bad thing to have.

[ CLOSED ] Grief will have to wait.

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