soothsighs | OPEN POST.

OPEN POST.

text ☆ action ☆ prose ☆ nsfw + gen friendly
☆ ENDWALKER COMPLIANT ☆

( Dawn breaks over the ship during the very last leg of the journey, and Urianger, ever the early riser, finds his feet guiding him up towards the deck so that he might be one of the first to see the harbour of Kugane. He supposes it might be considered something of a childish pleasure — whether he were first, second, or last to spy Kugane it would have no impact on their journey — but after so many weeks at sea he has found himself quite desperate to lay his eyes on something new.

A blast of salt-sea air whips at Urianger's back, catching in his gown and tousling his hair as a fine mist of spray settles against his skin. A private smile touches the corners of his lips as they glide towards the pier: ahead, the clouds are thumbed with soft smudges of pink and lilac as the sun begins to warm the skies over Othard, and yet the towering structures that flank the piers of the harbour seem bathed in blushing peach. It skims over the buildings with each passing moment until it hits the curve of blue-green tile, of red spires in all their glory, and he places a hand against his breast as he offers a silent moment of thanks to their mutual friend.

Without the Warrior of Light, none of this would have been possible. Without the Warrior of Light, Urianger would never have born witness to daybreak over the splendour of Kugane. While it's true that he has seen much over the course of the last few years — the violet forests of Lakeland, the riot of colour that was Il Mheg, even the perilous beauty only to be found at the very edge of creation — with the wind at his back and the sun glancing across the waves he would be hard-pressed to deny Kugane's place among such sights.

The approach of familiar footsteps draws him from his reverie. Urianger turns to face his dear friend as he moves up to join him at the prow, his eyes bright with warmth as inclines his head in greeting. )

Thancred.

( And only then does Urianger realise how glad he is to share in this moment with him. )

Forgive mine decision to leave thee abed, I prithee. I felt it kinder to let thee enjoy thy rest, for this day surely heralds the end of our most leisurely mornings.

[ Thancred has always been a light sleeper, a habit imbued in him back when he'd been a street urchin in search of any feasible spot where he might be able to catch a few hours of rest in the nooks and crannies of Limsa. So, as soon as there is activity above deck — boots creaking against wood and the distant sound of voices — he wakes from his bunk in the bowels of the cabin. A quick glance shows him that Urianger has already risen, the two of them often alternating on which is first to wake.

In this case, it is little surprise that Urianger is up before him. The word around the ship the night before was that they would be reaching Kugane early this morning, and Urianger is not the sort to let the opportunity to glimpse something new pass him by. That hunger for knowledge has shifted into a desire to see and experience as much as he can, hence their decision to set out traveling as a pair.

Kugane had been a decent choice of first stop, quickly recommended by the Warrior. It's a neutral state and therefore should be relatively calm and untouched by strife in comparison to many other nations who bore the brunt of the Final Days. Given the ordeal they've all just lived through, it makes sense to start in a place where they have a chance of not being immediately pulled into some crisis.

Thancred steps out onto the deck, the morning sun casting everything in bright yet warm light. He spots Urianger near the prow, along with the spectacular view of the port town that awaits past him. For all of Thancred's attempts at passing as a bard, and yes, even composing poetry in his younger years, he would struggle to find words to describe what he sees now. For all that he's traveled, all he's seen, there are still many more sights to appreciate.

And it's new and different to have the time to do so. All of his travels until now have generally been work-related. The concept of doing this simply for pleasure is going to take some getting used to, that's for certain.

As Urianger greets him, Thancred settles in at his side, arms lifting to rest on the ship's wooden railing. ]

There's nothing to forgive. [ The sea breeze gusts through his hair and he closes his eyes for a moment. There's truly no other feeling like it. ] To be honest, I'm eager to find my feet back on solid ground. There's only so many days of this I can endure before I feel like climbing the walls. [ He glances to Urianger then, brow creasing and mouth twitching as an unpleasant memory filters in. ] Though make no mistake, I'll take this method of travel over our experimental trip to Thavnair...

[ He bows his head and shakes it slowly. Even thinking back on it makes him feel a bit queasy. ]

Urianger isn't sure whether it makes it better or much, much worse that he's aware he shouldn't have accompanied their dear friend on their expedition — and that he'd had to pull every trick in the book to get the whole company to allow it. In the end it hadn't been as terrible as it could have been (although only by the grace of the Twelve had be managaed to avoid the Kapikulu's spinning attacks), and he had emerged from the vault breathless but unharmed—

To the sight of Y'shtola finishing a Linkshell conversation. Urianger hadn't needed to query beyond the smug curve of her lips to know to whom she'd been speaking, nor to figure out what the rest of his evening would likely entail.

Avatar of destruction, indeed.

Thancred had arrived at Radz-at-Han only a short while later, his tone clipped and irritated as he'd requested he meet him outside of the Meghaduta. At the very least Urianger had the good grace to respond in placating tones: it isn't the first time Thancred has had to put a stop to his apparent "self-negligence", after all, although it is the first time he's had more than his own life to think about.

The thought alone still leaves him a little breathless. Unthinking, he places his palm against the well-hidden swell of his belly (he'd worn his most loose robes for the expedition so as not to draw attention to his condition), and finds himself pleasantly warmed through to feel the weight of the curve there. He takes the grand staircase slowly, his back twinging minutely with each step, to find himself face to face with the man who holds his heart.

... Gods, but Thancred wears his frustration well. Heat puddles low in Urianger's stomach as he meets his gaze from beneath low lashes, the flush of it rising to his chest where it peaks his nipples and pinkens his skin.

"Thancred," he greets him, reaching out to place a hand against his shoulder. "It gladdens my heart to have thee by my side, but the urgency of thy visitation was unnecessary. All is well."

As soon as the nature of Urianger's condition had become clear to the two of them, any future plans regarding their pilgrimage had been quickly snuffed out. Thancred and Urianger had seen for themselves while traveling through Ilsabard how so much of the star is in disarray, and how squabbles have broken out between peoples now that the fate of the very universe is no longer hanging over their heads. That's reason enough to cancel further traveling until they can decide what their futures will even look like.

It's not as if Thancred can just go wherever he wishes when there's the well-being of a newborn babe to consider.

Yet while he understands this all too well and had worked with both the Warrior of Light and Vrtra to ensure that there are comfortable and private accommodations set up in Radz-at-Han for Urianger, it's as if all of his hard work has been for naught. The moment he left for even a brief period in hopes of tracking down his mentor (and no luck there), Urianger had taken his chance to sneak out and go on yet another adventure with the supposedly disbanded Scions.

It's hard not to be furious, if he's honest. It's as if he's the only one who's taking this seriously. Urianger may still be at a point where he can wander about in public without attracting any attention, but that doesn't mean that he should be going into monster-ridden dungeons beneath the Bounty.

He has some choice words for Y'shtola and the Warrior alike, but it's Urianger who comes to find him first. He'll give him that much, at least, but it hardly undoes his reckless actions.

While Urianger looks in perfectly fine health as he climbs the stairs, Thancred can still see that he's the slightest bit slower than he would be normally, and that the extra weight he's carrying is beginning to take its toll. He watches as the fabric of his robes sometimes catches against his middle, and is once again made dizzy with the realization of what it means. One way or another, they're having a child together. Perhaps it's something they would have talked about and planned at some point in the future, but he certainly hadn't expected it to be now.

He's doing his best, which is why it's so damnably frustrating when his concerns for his loved one's well-being are ignored. So here he stands, arms crossed tight over his chest, one foot tapping as Urianger moves to meet him. He notes that his face is flushed — does a simple climb up the stairs take that much out of him, now?

"And how easily could that not have been the case, I would query. I don't care how many experienced combatants you had with you, Urianger, you should not have been there to begin with. Even a climb up these stairs has left you winded."

It doesn't occur to him why else Urianger might be red in the face.

Twelve have mercy, but Urianger knows he shouldn't be feeling a lick of hunger curling its way up the length of his spine at Thancred's anger — or perhaps not at his anger, per se, but at the sudden closeness of his proximity and the passion in his tone. Yes, it's a passion that's rooted in frustration at his behaviour, but it's also a passion that's rooted in a desire to protect their unborn child from harm. In this moment, Urianger suspects that nothing could be more arousing.

"Thancred," he tries again, aiming for the soothing tone he usually employs when trying to reassure. It doesn't help that the colour in his cheeks only deepens at the man's assumption of the reason for it: how can he tell him outright that he's flushed for the simple reason of his presence? He shakes his head minutely, his other hand moving up so that a palm rests against each of Thancred's shoulders, their proximity enough to have another pleased little prickle run down the curve of his lower back.

"'Tis not the stairs that steal my breath away, dear one, nor is it the child."

An inference, perhaps, if not a direct confession. Urianger's lashes dip a little further as the heat in his core sinks a little lower, and he shifts just enough so as to very lightly squeeze his thighs together beneath the skirts of his robe. Instinctively, one hand moves from Thancred's shoulder to the lower curve of his belly again; a distracted reminder of what acting on those hot, pleasurable feelings have done to him.

What Thancred has done to him.

Another pulse, and this time Urianger takes half a step towards Thancred as the remaining hand slides down to the crook of his elbow.

"Come. If 'tis thy wish to chastise me, prithee do so within the privacy of mine own chambers. I would not wish for an audience to bear witness to thine ire."

Edited 2023-01-29 00:59 (UTC)

There's a hint of urgency in Urianger's voice simply when he says Thancred's name, and if that hadn't been evidence enough, then he closes in to establish immediate contact between them. It's not at all difficult to read between the lines, either, and Thancred watches the moves of Urianger's hand with a laser focus, as if he has no choice but to stare.

Yes, he did that to him, and that's a truth that he is still working on processing even now. It leaves his mouth and throat dry, especially as he realizes that Urianger is trying to distract him from his anger with a proposition of sorts.

He would like to think he is not weak enough to give into such an obvious ploy so easily, and yet Urianger is right about one thing: they should not be having this argument out in the open, where anyone might eavesdrop. So with an overdone, heaving sigh, he tugs away, shifting around to place a hand on the middle of Urianger's upper back and lead him toward his abandoned chambers.

"Very well." It's likely for the best that Urianger is off his feet, anyway. And that he has something to eat. Even now, even through his frustration, Thancred is lining up in his mind all that needs to be done to ensure that his partner is looked after. He can't exactly turn it off. "But if you think you've wriggled your way out of this, think again."

Even as they walk, though, he can't help but glance down at Urianger's middle every so often. He swears it is more noticeable than the last time they saw each other.

The hand at his back is a pleasant warmth that Urianger has sorely missed. He knows that they can't always be together — knows the fact that Thancred has his business and Urianger has his own is one of the reasons they get along so well — and yet all of a sudden he finds himself loathing the fact that his lover will likely have to leave as quickly as he arrived. He's missed his touch, his warmth, the smooth cut of his voice as he makes some quip or the other, and he finds his gaze wandering to the Hyur as they head towards his private chambers.

Fortunately for the both of them, they make it there without issue. He gestures Thancred inside before closing the door behind himself, and not a heartbeat is spared before Urianger takes his face between his hands and bends for a deep kiss. He's noticably needier than he tends to be before they're naked — this is a mid-fuck kiss, not a 'welcome to Thavnair, my dear' kiss — and he moans softly as he presses his belly up against the other man.

"Forgive me," he breathes against his lips, his fingers sinking into Thancred's silky hair. "'Tis not mine intent to divert thee from thy lecture, and yet ..."

Urianger kisses him again, crowding him back against the door as his free hand grips at Thancred's waist. He presses his thighs together again as his pussy throbs hot and wet, a string of saliva connecting their lips as he pulls back just enough to whisper his ardent desires against his mouth.

"I ache for thee, Thancred. Thy presence alone hath made a beast of me."

Thancred hears the door shut and is fully prepared to continue his argument from before, the one that Urianger had so expertly put off, and yet he isn't able to even utter a single word before his mouth is claimed. Urianger's kiss is immediate and intense, the sort of kiss that would usually be reserved for when they were already divested of their clothing and mid-coitus. Thancred isn't ready for it; he'd picked up on the fact that Urianger had been eager, but not to this extent.

And then, before he knows it, he's been pressed up against the door, Urianger's body flush against his. He can feel the swell of his belly — it would be impossible to miss by now, when Urianger is naturally rather slender, like most elezen. Between that and the hot gust of Urianger's breath and the desperation in his words, well, what is any man expected to do?

The knowledge that Urianger can hardly help himself, that he needs him so badly that he couldn't wait even a moment past when they entered a private space, is what puts it over the edge. Thancred still intends to have a talk with him about what he did, of course, but it's going to have to wait until after both their needs have been met. Aught that he says will only go in one ear and out the other at the moment.

"I... can see that," he says, his voice dry, as Urianger briefly pulls back. Thancred's already flushed, the red tinge winding its way from his face down his throat, and he takes a moment to try and regather his composure. "I didn't realize that you'd be in such a... state," he admits, and that's a realization that heats his blood as well. Urianger is like this because of him, and therefore it stands to reason that he needs to provide him aid in this moment.

He pushes firmly on Urianger's shoulder, then nods across the room to where a lavish bed awaits. "There's no reason for you to not be comfortable, however." And then he maneuvers past Urianger, taking his wrist and leading him toward the bed. "It was not my intention to leave you so... wanting."

Has Urianger been aching like this for him each night he's been gone? Why does that thought excite him so?

Urianger watches the flush spread across the bridge of Thancred's nose with no small amount of relish, having sorely missed the way his lover struggles to hide his desire when they're alone together. He wants to kiss him again, wants to lean in and take all he can between lips and tongue—

But then Thancred pushes at his shoulder, allowing just enough space to form between them to cool him off a little. Urianger blinks slowly, his irises a thin gold ring around twin puddles of black, and licks his lips just the once as he allows himself to be guided towards the bed. Thancred isn't wrong: he is in a state — and one that has only increased for every day spent apart — and while managing it had been relatively painless in the Hyur's absence?

His presence is nigh unbearble.

"No discomfort wrought from a swive against the door could outweigh the ache of thy distance these past weeks," he replies, pulling at the gold chains adorning his torso with his free hand. When they finally reach the bed he's managed to loosen them all enough that they slip off with ease, clattering into a heap against the floor to be dealt with later on.

"I am but a man, Thancred, and one of flesh and blood. Only a lover hewn from stone could bear these lonely nights without thy touch."

... A tad dramatic, to be sure, but Urianger has always been fond of a theatrical touch. He toes out of soft sandals, shrugs off the loose material of his chiton, before turning to Thancred in little more than his sweeping skirt and smalls. His hands move to the white cut of his coat to help ease from his shoulders and onto the floor, before skimming the tips of long fingers up the hot, hard curves of well-used biceps.

Urianger is wasting little time, and while his words might be spoken more for the sake of titillating Thancred than anything else, he does feel some guilt begin to set in. Perhaps it had been wrong of him to leave Urianger by his own for so long, but he'd decided that it would be best to do so in the first half of his pregnancy when he wouldn't require as much of his help.

As it turns out, though, Urianger's needs go beyond needing someone to lift up heavy items for him, bend over, or bring him some meal that he's craving. This is a side effect of being with child that he had not anticipated.

"'Twas not my intention to leave you so wanting," he breathes out with a shake of his head. He does not fight as Urianger eases his coat off, shrugging his shoulders back to help divest himself of it. Rather than letting it fall to the floor as Urianger did with this chiton, Thancred does catch the garment with one hand to set on a nearby ottoman. It leaves him in a tight black undershirt, and Urianger is quick to start feeling over the muscles in his arms.

Thancred lets out a warm chuckle. "Nor did I realize how much would change in my absence." It's not simply Urianger's desperation he means, but his physical form. He can't stop himself, especially now that Urianger's upper body is bared. He reaches out, hands sliding slowly down either side of his lover's chest to then drag over the curve of his stomach, needing to feel the change with his fingers rather than just observe it with his eyes. The skin there is warm and taut and there's something quite incredible, isn't it? Knowing that he put him in this state. Knowing how Urianger's body is shifting at such a notable rate to accommodate their child.

The thought is enough to spur further arousal in him, a steady heat growing between his legs. Thancred licks his lips and then leans in to steal another kiss from Urianger.

Feeling Thancred's hands against him is an instant balm to the flames licking at his core, and Urianger's sigh is almost one of relief as his eyes slide closed for a moment. He follows the sensation of his palms as they slide down either side of his chest, then move to the growing swell of his belly, and lets his his lashes flutter open again to watch his partner as he marvels over what they've created together. It's certainly true that Urianger seems to have "popped" in Thancred's absence: what had started as a vague thickening of the hips is now a clearly defined roundness, and he places a large palm over Thancred's hand as they stand there together.

"Aye, the child doth demand more room inside me with each passing day — let alone each moon," he chuckles, letting his thumb stroke against the curve of Thancred's. When the other man leans up and in for a kiss Urianger accepts it with a soft moan, his free hand sliding up to cup Thancred's cheek, then the back of his head, so he can tangle his fingers into his hair.

"Our child," he hums when they part, guiding his lover's hand down to sit low on his belly. He kisses him again, that desperation creeping back to the fore as their lips move against each other, before forcing himself to pull away so that he can take a slow, calming breath. Urianger rests his forehead against Thancred's for a moment as his hands drift back up to curl around his shoulders, and all of a sudden he finds himself struck with the sudden need to explain himself.

"While I am loath to shackle thee to my side without pressing need — I have managed perfectly well thus far, and Y'shtola hath surprised us all with how readily she hath offered her assistance — I cannot deny 'tis thy presence that most effectively comforts me." He clears his throat, his ears flushing pink as the haze of need finally lifts enough for him to feel mildly embarrassed about his needy behaviour. "For myriad reasons."

There's a momentary pause as Urianger debates over whether to continue, then presses ahead:

"Mayhap some small compromise could be reached when thy business doth allow for it?" A wry smile touches his lips: "A night in my company, perhaps once a week, that my fingers and wrist might be given an eve of respite."

Their child. It's something that Thancred is still processing, if he's honest, that in a few months' time there will be a new life that is theirs. Childrearing isn't something he knows all that much about, regardless of the role he'd taken with Minfilia and Ryne. Perhaps he isn't giving himself enough credit, but it seems as if it will be a wildly different experience with a newborn.

However, he can't dwell on it overly much, not when Urianger directs his hand down to the lower part of his belly, where he can properly feel the weight of it, and then kisses him so desperately. Thancred can't stop himself from moaning into his mouth — or rather, he doesn't particularly want to, as he thinks it might do some good if Urianger knows that even now, he desires him.

He's expecting them to go tumbling down to the bed before long, but then Urianger presses their foreheads and grips onto his shoulders and those pretty words of his tumble out. The implication that Urianger has been tending to himself every night that Thancred is absent is almost too much for him to take, and he lets out a surprised chuckle.

"I think that and more could be arranged. If you needed me to stay at your side, Urianger, you need have only said so." He shifts his head just slightly to kiss his cheek before pressing their foreheads once more. "And besides, it seems that you cannot be trusted to stay safe in the city if I am not here to see to it, so I suppose you've left me with no choice." While his tone is admonishing, it's in a playful way. He can't imagine leaving Urianger at this point, not with what he's already seen today.

With that, he lifts his hands up to press down against Urianger's taller shoulders, aiming to ease him into a sit on the bed. "Now... tell me what you want," he adds with a curved, almost mischievous smile.

This time, Urianger takes that note of admonishment with grace. It's fairly evident Thancred isn't looking to chastise him into a lecture right now — although that may come later — and so the least he can do is meet his love half-way and acknowledge that his decisions of late have been somewhat reckless. It feels too good to have him close to risk spoiling the moment, and so he simply lets himself be guided down to the bed so that he can look up at Thancred properly.

"... I concede that, upon occasion, I can be somewhat careless with mine own safety," he agrees, his own smile turning a little bashful around the edges as he reaches up to lay his palms against Thancred's waist. The Hyur isn't a small man by any means (for all he likes to tease him) and yet his hands span wide across him — something which privately brings Urianger no small amount of pleasure. The pads of his thumbs stroke against the tight material of his shirt as he lets his imagination run away with him:

"Thy mouth," he replies almost instantly, the gold of his eyes a thing ring around dark pupils as he thinks to the last time Thancred made a meal of him. Urianger had spent long years frowining in disapproval (and yes, perhaps a little jealousy) each time Thancred had sauntered off to an inn room with a woman on his arm, but these days?

He has to admit, the man put in the work and it's Urianger who's reaping the benefits.

"There are many sensations I can recreate on my own if needs must, but that of thy lips and tongue yet eludes me."

One of those hands slides around to squeeze a handful of Thancred's ass as Urianger looks up through his lashes, his expression sultry and his tone low with want:

"After which, I wish to ride thee until the bed groans, the neighbours complain, all else escapes me but the hymn of thy name."

"Ah, he admits it," Thancred replies with a flash of his eyes and a smirk, aimed down at a now seated Urianger. That is progress, he'll admit, and he will have to build onto that later, after both of them have sated their desires.

With that all said and done for now, though, Urianger wastes no time in using both his hands and his words to make clear what it is he wants: Thancred's mouth. Yes, it is true that Thancred is quite skilled with his use of it and has made this point to Urianger time and time again. It is not such an easy thing to recreate either, so he can see why Urianger immediately jumped to that.

There is something about the way Urianger's hands feel on him, the sheer size of them given his Elezen proportions, and Thancred could never tire of it. As those hands find his backside and draw him closer, he huffs out a laugh, finding himself pressed up against Urianger.

And then there's that final crass bit of poetry, which brings a deeper shade of red to Thancred's face. Despite thinking that he'd heard it all by now, with the amount of promiscuity he's engaged in for the purpose of gathering intel, Urianger has managed to prove him wrong time and time again.

Not needing to be told more than once, he reaches out for Urianger's shoulders once more and applies pressure to ease him to lay down on the bed, them climbs onto it after him, straddling either side of his thighs. He's about ready to lean down and start using his mouth to great effect, but then he halts, the sight of Urianger's swollen belly giving him pause for a moment.

"Are you quite comfortable like this? Would you prefer to be on your side?" If Urianger won't look out for himself, then Thancred will have to do so.

Urianger is ready to protest that no, he's more than fine settled as he is on his back, but then there's a twinge low in his spine and a shifting of everything inside him that reminds him of how he's been having to sleep of late. On his side, with a pillow beneath his belly and another to wedge between his knees; so yes, he probably would do better in a slightly different position.

"There is wisdom in thy words," he says wryly, nodding just the once before patting at Thancred to lift up. When he has enough room to turn Urianger moves carefully onto his side, but not before taking the opportunity to open the fastenings of his skirt and let it fall away from his hips to puddle against the sheets. Bare but for his smalls, Urianger sighs out a breath of relief before adjusting himself so that he's propped up on an elbow:

"Although it may prove more difficult for thee, I fear."

Difficult is probably the wrong word — as if they haven't managed to please each other in far more odd, cramped conditions than this — and he raises the tail-end of a silver eyebrow as he peers down his body to when Thancred is hovering. Still mildly apologetic, he continues:

"Thou wilt manage?"

( After dinner, Urianger shows Thancred and Minfilia to a cosy little nook on the upstairs landing where they can set up their blankets for the night. Obsidian might not that the familiarity with which Thancred takes the stairs suggests they've been there before; that the Bookman's Shelves and the company of his old friend has acted as the occasional waypoint during their time on the first.

As always, Urianger takes his time in prividing them with further blankets, pillows, and pitchers of water for the night, before heading back downstairs to where Obsidian sits at the table. )

Thancred and Minfilia hath settled for the evening.

( He relays with a little nod, his gaze warm with affection as he approaches his friend. There is much for which Urianger has yet to atone, and no small amount of guilt that weighs heavy on his shoulders, and yet somehow ...

Well. Obsidian's company makes him feel more like the man he wishes he were.

The chains decorating his gown clink softly as he comes to a halt, his attention sliding from Obsidian to the windows casting a warm glow out into the dusk: )

And their safety is ensured here — at least for tonight.

( There's a strange pause after that, as though Urianger is trying to work his way up to ask another personal question, and by the time he speaks again there's a hint of pink in those long ears that wasn't there before. )

Wouldst thou ... care to join me in dessert by the lake? Il Mheg is a realm of singular beauty by night, and I would be most honoured to share it with thee.

[It's odd to suddenly stop from rushing to save not just one but two worlds. Not that Obsidian's ungrateful for it, but it's nice to just sit and not have the weight of everything crushing down, nor his soul crackling under the strain of containing excess light.

His ears twitch at Urianger's approach and he looks up, not realizing that his face draws into a smile when he sees his comrade. Briefly, he thinks on Urianger, kneeling in front of him and asking to journey on even after his deception; if Obsidian was still the man he was after the Bloody Banquet, forgiveness probably would have been more difficult, his outlook on everything in turmoil. But he isn't the same person he was then, and instead he could only hold affection, knowing that Urianger had meant to do only what was right.

So forgiveness was easy enough. The past is past, and he's just glad for how it has worked out now.]

I suppose I hadn't the chance to appreciate it when night first returned. We certainly had little time to just stop before.

[Obsidian stands, rolling his shoulders back.]

Aye, I'd be glad to join you.

( The pleasant lilt of Obsidian's accent warms Urianger through for just a moment. Careful as he is to keep his cards as close to his chest as he possibly can — now more than ever, what with the Exarch's task weighing heavy on his shoulders — he can't help the soft smile that touches his lips (nor the flush that pinkens his ears) at Obsidian's response. )

Then wait but a moment, I prithee.

( He retrieves a small basket from the wall before moving to rummage around in a cupard, from which he procures a small bundle of honeycakes, some iced biscuits, and a bottle of what looks like still lemonade. Upon returning to Obsidian's side he offers a brief explanation: )

My distate of sweet things became known to the pixies quite early on, ere I fully understood their nature.

( He says lightly, guiding Obsidian out of the house and into the gentle glow of dusk. He glances toward his friend, some manner of his own mischief evident in the gleam of those golden eyes: )

'Tis most unfortunate, then, that for their delight and amusement they insist upon regularly furnishing my cupboards with all manner of cakes and treats. A most clever prank of theirs, wouldst thou not agree?

[For a moment, Obsidian is still as his ears stiffen up and he smells the sugar and honey. There'd been a time in which Obsidian had made an effort to disguise his sweet tooth, but long since his prickly efforts in the beginning of his journey as a Scion it's well known now.

He clears his throat and he rises up to follow after the elezen, then he lets out a snort at the talk of the pixies.]

Oh yes, they're the clever ones all right.

[Leave it to Urianger to outwit the mischievous nature of the pixies. Who better, really?]

I suppose I'll just have to help you relieve you of that burden. Quite terrible.

Edited 2023-03-03 02:37 (UTC)

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OPEN POST.

@thancred

slides in

@funbreaker.

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@haredresser.

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FINALLY DOES THIS im sorry bb