Chapter Text
Dorian woke up to the sounds of music and a low humming.
-Candy, she’s sweet like candy in my veins
-Baby, I’m dying for another taste
A fuzziness hung in the room, coating everything in a yellowish haze and a feeling of home. This was nothing like Dorian’s old home, and yet he couldn’t deny the happy ache in his chest in that short moment before consciousness fully hit. It did so slowly, like treacle, seeping slowly into the situation around him. To be honest, Dorian thought the entire scene was oddly treacle-y, and he could taste the sweetness.
-And every night my mind is running around her
-Thunder’s getting louder and louder
Dorian would have to get up eventually. As the humming continued, he leaned on an elbow and took in the scene around him.
The blanket fort was mostly intact, but the roof had been taken down and the window opened. Sweet birdsong was filtering through, as were the rays of morning sun. Dariax was standing on his bunk, doing the somatic components for some spell or other, whispering the divine words under his breath. The dwarf had a slight smile on his face, as though the serene energy of the moment was subconsciously slipping into his expression.
-Baby, you’re like lightning in a bottle
-I can’t let you go not that I’ve got you
Dorian realised that he was smiling, too. He’d never seen the dwarf so calm, so quiet, so peaceful. It seemed like Dariax’s constant whirring and bubbling had finally slowed. His hair was glowing in the sun, he was conjuring little fiery whisps of energy (though gods know what they were supposed to be) that disappeared through his fingertips and floated out the window. It felt comforting, in a way Dorian couldn’t explain. The bard felt an affinity with the moment, affection welling up at the sight of everything.
-And all I need is to be struck
-By your electric love
-
Dariax looked up from his spell to see that Dorian was awake.
Oh shit. Dorian was awake.
Looking at the dwarf with sleepy eyes and a morning smirk, he was peeking up over the surrounding cushions. The remnant of yesterday’s hair bun was drooping and falling over his shoulder, the white strands catching the sunlight. They locked eyes, and Dariax had to look away.
In a hurry the dwarf scrambled up and reached for his phone, turning off the music.
“Hi, uh- hi. Good morning. Nice… birds today?”
There was a pause, in which both Dorian and Dariax stopped to listen to the birdsong. Apparently the universe was out to make Dariax look like an even bigger idiot than usual, since at that moment all the nearby birds seemed to stopped singing.
Dorian laughed. “Yeah, good morning.” He flopped onto his back, before sitting up and pushing his hair out of his eyes. Fixing Dariax with a smirk, he added, “So, sleep well?”
Gods above, save him from the beautiful bard boy. With the effortless charm and beautiful voice and elegant demeanour. From the sappy thoughts at eight AM in the morning. Honestly, what was Dariax doing with his life.
“I mean, yeah. Blanket forts are comfy and all.”
A beat, as a gust of wind lightly drifted round the room. Dariax saw Dorian open his mouth, no doubt to address the situation he’d been in the evening before. Quickly, the dwarf interjected-
“Look, I’m sorry. You said you had never built a blanket fort before, and that’s what I do when I feel down, so I thought it might help you too. I got very excited, and I’m sorry if I robbed you of a peaceful evening, I never meant to actually fall asleep. I’m sorry if I crossed a line, I swear I’ll know better next time.”
There was another moment of silence.
Dorian looked confused, almost like that hadn’t been the expected response from someone who had, in fact, done all of the aforementioned things.
“Dariax,” (there it was again, the dreaded word that sent Dariax’s mind into turmoil and sent warmth blooming into his shoulder blades), “There isn’t anything to apologise for.” The bard was using his softest voice, one Dariax had only heard used for verbal components in spells.
“This was nice,” Dorian said with a chuckle, “I… actually wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime.”
Dariax breathed a sigh of relief, and the proceeded to spin around lightning speed as Dorian went searching for clean clothes to put on.
-
-Good morning Gem! How is it where you are?
-I went for a walk this morning and it was just fantastic
-Mister also ate someone’s garden but we’ll not get into that
Opal smiled at the mental image of mister, chaos and nightmares incarnate, on a walk with a leash. She’d seen some videos of the monkey spitting fire. Of course F would be wild enough to take him for a walk.
Before Fy’ra Rai could ask why she was smiling at her phone, Opal closed it and got ready for the day. She had time to do full makeup, since she had woken up to the sounds of her roommate going on a jog at six am. Typical. Still, it gave her a lot of time to prepare, and wonder if she would have any of the same classes as the Fearne from yesterday evening. Opal was a well accomplished daydreamer, and going to the academy hadn’t stopped her habits.
And if her daydreams were about tall fawn ladies with soft voices and green hair then who could blame her?
-
Evidently, however, Opal’s schedule didn’t match up with Fearne’s. The warlock didn’t see her at all during the following days, and she was almost assuming that Fearne and her roommate had swapped floors or something. However, on one particularly empty afternoon where Opal had decided to take up residence on her sofa again, she did see their room open again. Out came the halfling, Orym, same as before. In a moment of held breath and blatant staring, Fearne followed him, as the halfling turned and waved at Opal with a familiar smile. The warlock felt herself blushing, noticing all the details that hadn’t been present in her imagination, like the flower crown circlet on Fearne’s brow, or the soft clop her hooves made, or the fluffiness of her mint jumper.
“Opal!”
“Hiiii!”
“Hello Opal, it’s just so nice to see you,” Fearne remarked in that lovely voice that floated on the winds and raced with the dragonflies.
Opal was about to answer when Chaos entered the room and the moment shattered.
Chaos (with a capital C, as F and her used in their chats), in this case, came in the form of a dwarf and some kind of genasi. They burst up from the stairwell, heatedly debating whether Legolas or Boromir was more attractive in fellowship of the ring. The dwarf was stuffing a sandwich in his mouth on the move, getting butter and cucumber pieces on his beard. The genasi seemed to be actively winding a blue scarf around the dwarf’s neck, thus keeping him from tripping face first onto the floor as he caught his boot on the edge of the stairs. The door swung open, handle banging against the wallpaper, and every head in the room turned to look at the newcomers.
Orym leaned up and whispered to Fearne and Opal.
“Those are the two from melee weapons. Fearne, you know how we wanted to find other gays? I think we found some,” he said with a smirk.
Opal tilted her head in consideration. “No, I think the red one is definitely bisexual. No gay is that much of a disaster.”
“Got experience with that, Opal?” Orym chuckled.
“Maybe,” Opal turned her gaze back to the two newcomers, “either way, those two have red-gay/blue-gay vibes, and you can quote me on that!”
The dwarf grabbed the genasi’s arm and, noticing the trio already seated, straight up walked over with the biggest smile. Opal had to admire his positivity, if not the cucumber on his sleeve when he held out a hand.
“I’m Dariax! Nice to meet ya,” a wink, very subtle, sure, “are you from this floor too?”
Orym glanced from Dariax to Fearne and Opal, then back again. “I think so?”
Opal realised that it was her the halfling was unsure about. Quickly nodding her head, she fixed the dwarf, Dariax as she now knew, with a smile.
“Sure, I’m just across the corridor. I’m Opal, by the way. Who’s your friend?”
Dariax looked up at the genasi and grinned. “This beauty is my roommate, Dorian Storm! He’s a bard, he’s super cool and totally badass in melee class and- “
The newly named Dorian settled a hand on Dariax’s shoulder, effectively shutting him up. Taking interest in the group, he asked,
“We must actually be your neighbours, Opal. So, you seem like an interesting group. What classes are you in?”
-
Later that day, Fearne was discussing the pros and cons of various types of breads dipped into soup with Gem. Mister was sitting on her lap, happily fiddling with one of the bells on her belt. Orym was lying on the opposite bed, headphones on. Serenity filled the room like a blanket, stagnant and calm.
Suddenly, Orym pushed down his headphones and sat up facing Fearne.
“So…. what do you think of Opal?”
The five of them had talked for a long time in the living room. It was telling enough that they felt like an “us” even after a few hours of knowing each other. They had got on like a house on fire, discussing everything from the technical differences between a scimitar and a sword to how many streams of Sweater Weather each of them had on spotify. Fearne had, in hindsight, been totally gravitating toward the warlock for most of the time, and she had learned early on that Orym was ridiculously perceptive.
Fearne felt herself smile at the warmth in her chest. “She’s just lovely.”
Orym had a soft expression on his face when he answered, “Well, us nature people gotta stay together. If you ever need any advice, or a ruse to talk to her, or some sort of…. ‘wingman’? I’ll be here.”
Fearne glanced down at her phone at a message from Gems, probably halfway across the country and living a life that Fearne would never be a full part of.
“Thank you Orym. And of course,” Fearne grinned a sly grin, “if I can ever return the favour, just ask.”
Orym raised his eyebrows conspiratorially before going back to his music. Fearne was about to put down her phone and pick up the book she was reading, but last minute she decided to send one more message to Gem.
-btw, I talked to the cool person again today!
-my roommate also knows what’s up unfortunately >:)
-toooooootally not crushing