RP: Daylen Amell

[fereldans_king]

Skyhold was almost as extensive as the palace in Denerim, if one counted all the palace gardens and twisting servants quarters. Every room seemed to lead into another, and eventually back again in a giant circle. This meant, of course, that Alistair was hopeless lost. Again.

He had intended to walk back to the room that he had been deposited into the first night (day? Time didn't seem to have much meaning here). He'd left the armor that he had borrowed from Cullen's stockpile there after deciding (foolishly perhaps) that the majority of people stuck in this mess with him were of the trustworthy sort. And it was heavy, uncomfortable stuff - lamellar was not meant to be made of low-quality iron plates, nor was it meant to drag on the shoulders like a poorly-weighted pack. He'd made up his mind to get it and return it to the stockpile for something more comfortable (in case of demons or hostile strangers or whatever else this strange not-Fade cooked up), only to find himself thoroughly lost yet again in the maze of rooms and hallways.

"Of all the infernal-" Alistair stumbled through a door and into the great hall yet again. At the opposite end from where he'd started. He sighed, run a hand through his hair (now tousled in frustration), and stopped in place to try and calm down.

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[fereldans_king]

"Hey now!" Alistair was down on his knees in an instant, just within arms reach, his hands outstretched, hovering - he wasn't sure this man would want him to touch him, so he resisted.

"I'm sorry - I don't know who you are. Though obviously you know me." Alistair shook his head, and dropped his voice to grumble at himself, "Of course he knows you, you idiot, he said he'd seen your face."

Louder again, speaking to the mage again, "I don't know what happened in your time, but...I'm still alive in mine. At least, I hope I am. I suppose this could all be an awful form of punishment in the afterlife for being as impious as I have been."

Damn it, stay focused. Softer this time, his face intensely earnest and open, "I am so sorry. I can't imagine how this must hurt right now. I wish I could help."

[daylen_amell_fadewalk]

Daylen was trembling, but when Alistair's hands reached for him he flinched toward him. He bit the inside of his cheek until it was as grated raw and bloody as the rest of him, stilling that impulse. He could feel... something. An echo of a whisper, and the wound in Daylen's soul where his Voice belonged was no longer hemorrhaging into the ether, but... it wasn't the same. But Maker he just...

He looked up, twitching, trembling, just wanting to fall against him, and met Alistair's eyes, faces close as they knelt on the floor. "Trapped in the Fade with the very image of my fucking Voice who doesn't know me from Andraste? One of us has to have pissed off the Maker royally." He lifted a hand, pressed it over his eyes for a moment as his shoulders shook.

"This is embarrassing. I'm embarrassed. This is worse than when I proposed to you at Ostagar." He took a ragged breath. "You really aren't him."

[fereldans_king]

"Proposed...oh." Alistair's blush spread across his cheeks and down his neck, turning him a very familiar shade of red. He shook his head, slowly, sadly. "No, no I'm not the Alistair you know. My Hero, Cousland...he wasn't interested in..." Alistair coughs, embarrassed. "...that," he finished lamely.

However, he'd seen how shaky the man before him was, how he flinched towards Alistair's open arms instead of away. And that made Alistair's decision for him. In a swift motion, he'd gathered the man into a gentle hug, tucking him into the safe hollow of his neck and chest and arms. Alistair murmured quietly, just for the mage to hear. "I might not be your Alistair, but I am still myself. And I can't imagine myself ever wanting to see a friend in this much distress."

[daylen_amell_fadewalk]

Daylen went into Alistair's arms with only the tiniest noise of protest, not quite gruff enough to be a grunt, not needy enough to be a keen. A whimper? When Alistair finished speaking he shook his head, face pretty much buried in his throat. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He let him have a minute of his skin, filthy as it was, touching the skin of this man who was not his Voice. Not exactly.

But Maker, his arms, the scent of him? All of it felt so good, so safe it took him an unforgivably long time to push him away. "I'm sorry. I'm such a bastard. Not like you're a-- nevermind. Shit." He pinched the bridge of his nose and then pushed further away. "I have to go. I can't do this." His hand came up to touch Alistair's cheek though, making him such a little liar.

He struggled up onto his feet, grabbing his staff to help steady himself, and then backed up two reluctant steps. His eyes couldn't settle, shifting onto the other man, then away, restless, face twisting with guilt. "You're... I'm so stupid. And sorry." He had never apologized to anyone that much in his entire life but this... was anything but a normal situation.

He needed to find someplace to vomit and then faint, he rather thought as he picked a door at random and limped toward it.

(OOC: I have to head to bed. But this scene is breaking my heart and I don't really want to stop. D:)

[fereldans_king]

Alistair leaned into the gentle touch of his face, a quiet sigh escaping him. He let the man pull away, let him stand up on his own, though he didn't want to. It had been so long since he'd felt...wanted, helpful, a whole mess of different emotions. His expression was full of sorrow - sadness for the pain the man must be in and for not being able to help.

Alistair remained kneeling on the floor, not sure if he should go after the man or let him have his desired moment of privacy. His voice was soft, and honest, pitched to be sure the man could hear.

"You probably need to rest - There are plenty of rooms available. The others here told me to just pick one that seemed comfortable. I....I'll see about getting you some new clothes. If you like."

Alistair finally rose from the floor, groaning slightly at his knees (getting older and not in the good way). He paused for a moment, and then made a frustrated noise. "I...damn it, I'm sorry, but I don't even know your name."

((OOC: I know, right! So much tragic squee. But sleep is also important. We can pick back up here tomorrow, or start another thread tomorrow if you like.))

[daylen_amell_fadewalk]

Daylen paused to listen as Alistair spoke, staring at the door. Less than an hour ago be was about to be torn apart by darkspawn and now a man looking like his soulmate was offering him a clean shirt. . Daylen would have laughed if he couldn't hear the pain in his voice .

Apparently Alistair was always kind. He nodded slowly. "Daylen. Amell. I wouldn't throw you out if you found me something with less ogre on it to wear. It seems like it might be a few days before i get back to my Calling." With that he slipped out the door.

(OOC: maybe a new thread so we can get a Daylen cleaned up before any more sad snuggles might happen. Gnight!)