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He's not sure what he expected from coming here. He's been able to put it broadly out of his mind, to be honest, until the actual prospect of Svalbard became more of a certainty than a what if.
He's not been around dwarves for half of his life now. He's forgotten most of their customs, can easily recall less than half of the stories his mother told him. He reckons his fingers only remember the intricate braids of his culture because he wants to use them on Wilde, to make him pretty (prettier) and to touch as much of him as possible as tenderly as possible.
He is a lapsed dwarf, right alongside being a lapsed cleric of Poseidon.
The level of activity in the town makes him nervous. He’s not been around this many people, this much life since the Ursan city, and he doesn’t precisely have good memories of that time. There are so many children running around, tiny little things that are smaller even than Hamid, and he wants to protect each and every one of them.
“Are you alright, darling?”
He looks up at Wilde. The man is smiling, but Zolf knows the intricacies of his expressions by now. There’s genuine concern in his eyes, clear and bright in the sunlight, his hair pulled back into a careful braid to avoid it whipping about in the sharp winds.
“M’fine.” Zolf says. “Just. I dunno, nervous.”
“There’s a lot of people.” Wilde agrees. “It’s still a little strange.”
“Yeah.” Zolf says, clutching up his hand even though they’re both wearing heavy mittens. It’s a bit of a struggle, but it’s nice. “Stay close.”
Wilde smiles, fond and surprised. “Alright, Zolf.”
They walk through the town, having been given relatively free reign after Earhart’s skillful negotiation of temporary safe haven. He spots people looking their way, which, given that Wilde is a good two foot taller than him with completely white hair, doesn’t strike him as entirely unwarranted. Uncomfortable, maybe, but nothing worse.
It’s nice to be out in the open air with solid ground beneath his feet. It’s been a while since he could claim that. It grounds him and levels him out in a nice way, potentially a dwarven way, which makes the corner of his lip quirk up.
Wilde makes a curious sound and drags him along to a stall in the market, selling gems and charms and a number of beard rings, which his magpie of a partner appears to be quite taken with. The person behind the stall is older, grey in their hair and their beard, lines around their eyes and across their forehead. They smile at Zolf brightly, looking between him and Wilde once and then folding their hands over their belly.
“He your young man?” They ask in dwarvish, voice still strong despite their age.
Zolf blinks, looking up at Wilde and watching as he pretends not to listen in, though the line of colour high on his cheeks somewhat gives the game away. Zolf smiles at them, and hopes it looks less nervous than it is.
“Why do you ask?”
“Oh I don’t know.” They smile. “The hand holding, maybe. The way he looks at you. The braids.”
“The braids are lovely.” Calls a voice from the next stall over. Zolf glances across to find a woman looking back at him, wide grin in place that reminds him of his mother. “Very tidy.”
It isn’t a surprise to be faced with approval of his handiwork. He knows he’s good at them, he watched his father’s fingers working through his mother’s hair enough times to have learnt the patterns, to know what they mean. But until now he’s not put it together. What it means. What it means.
“Zolf?”
He’s not entirely sure what expression he’s expecting before he tilts his head up, finds Wilde looking almost bashful alongside the hint of hope in his eyes. And Zolf at least is familiar with that.
“Yeah. We’re…” He doesn’t even really know how to phrase it, isn’t even really all that sure it matters. He looks back at the dwarf and smiles. “Yeah.”
They don’t seem to require any further clarification, looking to Wilde and then reaching out a hand to point at one of the beard rings. “That one.”
Wilde pauses, then clutches it up, tugging off his mitten to turn it over and over in one unencumbered hand. The band is gold, like the one Zolf has currently, but the stone is a blue-green, almost hazel colour that matches Wilde’s eyes almost perfectly. Zolf can see the way the man falls in love with it instantly, some sort of tender imagination going on in his head.
“I also have some matching beads.” Says the woman at the adjacent stall. “If you wanted to do his braids properly.”
Zolf laughs, knowing the flush on his cheeks must be visible now. He feels like he’s a wee thing again, standing in front of the elders of his village who always used to make him feel nervous and guilty even when he’d done nothing wrong.
“This is extortion.” He says, though quickly moves around to the other stall, pulling a few gold out of his purse. “How much?”
“How many beads? Your man has a lot of hair.” The woman smiles, picking up a little pouch ready to scoop the beads in.
Zolf snorts. “Yeah. Well he’s not the one paying.”
She laughs, so bright and happy that it makes his chest feel tight. She doesn’t know the terror of the world. She doesn’t know what they’ve seen.
“I’d say five.” She says, looking appraisingly at Wilde as he hands over a small pile of gold to the other stall holder. “Six if he’s going to grow his hair.”
With a sigh, Zolf looks back at the pile of beads. They really are lovely. It would be nice to be able to plait some into his own hair, some day. When they can stop. When they can live. There’s roughly fifteen in the pile, all of them beautiful, all of them unique.
“How much for the lot. If I can take them all.”
“Dear, you can buy out my entire stock if you want. But for those it’ll be ten gold.” She says, already halfway to putting them in the pouch.
“Twenty.”
She pauses, looks at him curiously and then grins. “I’m not sure you understand how this is supposed to work.”
“I have nothing else to spend my money on.” Zolf says, pulling out twenty gold coins and laying them on the stall. “And I recognise the good work of a skilled artisan. Let me compensate you for that effort.”
“I’m not going to fight you.” She says, putting the last of the beads into the pouch and handing it over, scooping up the coins with her other hand. “If you need any help with the braids, you know where to find me.”
Zolf nods, awkward now that the exchange is complete. He smiles a final time and then walks the few steps across to Wilde, who has his purchase clutched in a very similar pouch. Zolf watches him tuck it away in a pocket of his coat and reaches out to place the beads in there too, before grabbing up the man’s bare hand and blowing a few heated breaths over it. Wilde passes him the abandoned mitten without speaking and Zolf slots it back in place, then tugs on his hand.
“C’mon.” Zolf says. “Getting hungry and it’ll be the first meal in weeks I’ve not made myself.”
“Whatever you say, darling.” Wilde replies, his voice soft enough that it almost gets stolen by the wind. “After dinner will you show me how you’d use the beads in my hair?”
Zolf nods, fighting the little leap his heart makes. “They’ll definitely stare at you after that.” He says, not daring to elaborate on why.
“Because I’ll look so handsome?” Wilde grins, chin lifted, preening.
“Yeah.” Zolf says. “Yeah, sure. That’s why.”
Wilde knows him well enough by now. He’ll see through the lousy attempt at subterfuge, even if it requires going back to the elders and asking them precisely what the braids mean. But in the meantime, the man is fidgeting through walking beside him, hand hovering over the pocket containing their purchases.
“Wilde.”
“Hm?”
“What’s up? You’re distracted.” Zolf guides him into the pub without dropping his hand, walking towards an empty table in the back.
“It occurs to me.” Wilde says, sitting down and shrugging off his outer layers. “That for all intents and purposes, I just bought you a ring.”
Zolf stops, pausing for a breath and then reaching out to take Wilde’s chilled hands in his own. “Wilde, I just bought us enough beads to cover our entire heads with marriage braids. If that… helps, I dunno. Makes you feel less…”
“Exposed?” Wilde offers, weakly.
“Yeah. Something like that.” Zolf smiles. “It’s not a conversation we have to have right now.”
Wilde smiles, looking down at their linked fingers and nodding slowly. “No. No that’s probably for the best.”
“But that doesn’t mean….” Zolf trails off. “Look. I knew what I was buying.”
“Yeah.” Wilde says, quiet at first and then somewhat coming back to himself, not fighting the grin that forms on his lips. “Yes. Me too.”
Zolf matches the grin, feeling a bubble of giddiness form in his chest. “We’re a right pair, you know that?”
With a hearty roll of his eyes, Wilde lifts Zolf’s palm to his mouth and leaves a heated, lingering kiss on the palm. “Yes. I think I was somewhat aware.”
“Right.” Zolf smiles, suddenly not wanting to leave the table but unable to ignore the increasingly intent growling from his stomach. “Right. Okay. I’ll get us some food?”
“Please.” Wilde says. “If you didn’t spend all your money on beads.”
“I didn’t.” Zolf says, standing up and thinking about dashing off in lieu of ending this conversation like an adult… before stopping, swallowing down his fear and leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Wilde’s forehead. “But if I had, it would have been worth it.”