Dorian (dorianpavus-fadewalk)

[taranfadewalk]

He'd barely arrived at Skyhold when he was taken.

Taran remembered it clearly. He'd met Dorian. He'd discovered he was the other man's Voice. He'd been ridiculously happy (despite knowing just how much trouble it all was going to land him in with Cassandra, Giselle, and the others later.) And then, just as he'd taken a step toward Dorian, concerned by the idea that Dorian had thought him dead, he was...somewhere else.

Somewhere not very nice at all.

Tevinter was a beautiful place, but for the Herald to suddenly appear there was dangerous, especially with so many Venatori around. He'd barely survived, taking sanctuary with a moderate-minded house who helped heal his injuries and agreed to contact the Inquisition.

Until he'd spotted Dorian's portrait in their gallery and made a surprised comment.

Until he'd realized they were Dorian's family.

Until the truth came out, along with the magical chains, and talk of blood magic and finding a way to release their son and...

He still had the ritual marks on his skin, blood welling from elaborate cuts when the table he was strapped to shuddered and he was suddenly laying on the grass staring up at a queasy-green sky--gasping and clawing at the fine silver chains that still draped his skin, stifling his veil magic.

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[dorianpavus_fadewalk]

Dorian watched Taran wander the room from the corner of his eye as he finished washing the grime from the assault on Redcliffe from his skin, pursing his lips slightly when Taran started dressing.

He'd never known something so disappointing to simultaneously feel like such a relief. He tutted softly. "I don't suppose there's anything sized a touch more modestly in there." He stood carefully and stepped out of the tub, toweling himself off slowly.

[taranfadewalk]

"Not that modestly," Taran said, grabbing an armful of clothes that looked like they would do and coming back around the screen. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Dorian again, eyes fluttering down his body. "Oh."

[dorianpavus_fadewalk]

For Dorian to feel properly impressive he'd need some scented oils, kohl, gold dust powder, hair wax, and a shave. But he knew what kind of effect his body could have on a man. Seeing Taran go speechless sent a strangely tender thrill through him.

He wrapped the towel around his hips carefully, tucking the end and then padding on damp feet toward Taran. His steps were slow and oddly tentative as he resisted the urge to just crowd up against the young man and kiss him again.

"Is there anything in there I can bear to be seen in, is the real question." He cocked his head, eyeing the pile of clothes that Taran carried without much hope.

[taranfadewalk]

"I'm, um," he said, clearly struggling to gather words again, flush rising and eyes dropping down Dorian's body, then up again to study his face, as if he couldn't decide what he wanted to savor more. "I'm really hoping not. You make a towel look very very good."

[dorianpavus_fadewalk]

"Of course I do," Dorian agreed with playful lilt in his voice that matched the curve of his lips. He glanced down and plucked at the towel, before meeting Taran's eyes from beneath his lashes, actually biting his lip against all the things he wanted to say that were dangerously flirtatious.

He reached for the clothes, flipping through them with an aggrieved sigh, until he'd found something that wouldn't make him look like a court jester or a child playing dress-up, but only just. "This will do. Thank you." He let his fingers brush over the back of Taran's hand in a lingering, gentle caress.