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Prologue
Rest.
After a long day, way too long, with too many fights and too many drabbles for Orym's liking, he could finally get some rest.
Sleep? That was another story.
Sleep didn't come as easy.
Sleep was the goal after a long, winding road of thoughts that lead nowhere.
Nowhere but to pain and suffering.
Will.
The attack.
Hurt and suffering-
Dorian.
The twins.
Young and beautiful, so full of dreams and ambition-
Dorian.
The storm-
Dorian.
It couldn't be healthy to think about someone so much, Orym thought.
It should be illegal to look so good and sound so wonderful and smell even nicer, Orym thought.
Why did he relate everything and anything to Dorian, Orym thought.
Dorian, Orym thought.
If only, Orym thought.
And when sleep finally took over, Orym dreamt.
He dreamt of better times.
Of beautiful peace with his husband.
Of flower crowns and moons and shooting stars.
Those were sad nights.
Nights in which he remembered the past he could not get back.
Or he dreamt of music.
Of blue, vast and deep like the Ocean.
Of bluebells and jasmine.
Of salty sweat and soft hands.
Those as well were sad nights.
Nights in which he considered the future he could not strive for.
Part One - Feelings
Another chaotic day was gone and done and Dorian let out another big sigh - probably the third one today, and as for the week, well, he'd lost count. How had he survived, that big oaf... It was a mystery to the bard, he himself only coming so far through, it seemed, sheer luck. Well, Cyrus still had his good points, he was sure to make a great leader - but in the real world, he was hopelessly outmatched by folding chairs and locked doors. Another big sigh escaped through his musings, alerting said big oaf who would usually not bat an eyelash at it, had it become an everyday occurrence and rather normal in his mind anyways. They were still sat at their table in the quaint little tavern they found on the outskirts of town, Dorian still nursing a first glass of whatever-wine-was-the-fanciest, the other crown keepers, their members having been switched out in the middle of it all, well into their third or fourth, Dariax had even lost count by that point, the dwarf was insatiable - and could throw it back all too well.
Opal had just raised her voice to an unnatural amount of decibel and Dariax had followed, shouting at each other about however excited they were about the show of whatever the hell they were talking about - Dorian hadn't really listened, when Cyrus scooted over to his brother, a little too close due to the alcohol, a little too chummy due to shame, guilt, and the need for reassurance and love.
"...Dorian"
Another small sigh. "Yes, Cyrus?"
"Why are you sighing so much?"
Delicate as ever, his brother.
"Right to the point as always, brother."
"Weeell,...", Cyrus slurred his next words, suddenly turning shy and trailing off: "You've been sighing a bunch these last few days and you've been looking at your pet-rock and sighing even louder andIcanthelpbutfeelthatitsmyfaultsoIdontwantyouto... bemadatme....."
The rock?
Not what he had anticipated. He wanted to turn defensive. Why would he...?
"No, no, no, Cyrus... It's not your fault. I'm just... tired, that's all"
"Brother, you seem to be more than tired"
"Ha... Nooo, I'm really just..."
"...?"
"..."
"....tired?"
"-tired, yes"
Why had his voice travelled up an octave?
Why the long pause?
Why the stare from his brother that he couldn't seem to match?
"...Dorian".
"....yes brother?"
"You would always say to listen to your insides when you don't know a feeling, remember?"
"Mmh"
"You would go and write songs and poems about your thoughts, but for me, I can't do that..."
"I know...I believe that's why I even drew you a-"
"-a chart. Yes", Cyrus chuckled "A-and it helped me. I mean it. I still have it, even"
"You kept that old thing? I'm impressed. Do you not know it by heart by now?"
"I do... But, it's something I received from you, so..."
It was Dorian's turn to chuckle now.
"You know you're adorable sometimes"
"I'm your older brother!", Cyrus protested.
"Doesn't make you any less adorable! Now. I believe you wanted to talk to More? About her ears, was it? Go on then, flirt with her!"
"Flirt? You mean talk?"
"..."
"..."
"...sure. Talk. My mistake", Dorian corrected, overly theatrical, winking at his brother and triumphantly savoring the splotchy dark blue on Cyrus' cheeks. "I think I will turn in for tonight", and louder, he added "Boy, I'm tired. I'll see you all in the morning"
He had some trouble escaping from the more rambunctious few of the group, particularly Dariax who just wouldn't let go of him for a good five minutes, complaining that they hadn't been able to really spend some time together because Dorian had been gone for so long. The Genasi, unable to deny his dear friend, had a good hour and two glasses of wine more of story-telling and merry-making before he managed to slip away to the quiet of his room. He'd bought a room for himself this time around, claiming he needed some time alone, and the quiet and emptiness washed over him when he closed the door. Instead of comfort, however, his thoughts came crashing down with such force that he had to steady himself on the small bedside table - or was it the alcohol?
This feels like a downer, come on it was a great night, he'd said.
It wasn't like that, he'd said.
He scoffed.
Why had he been so blasé about all of it?
He hadn't been able to handle it.
The emotions.
The pressure of goodbye.
The tiny, almost audible cracks of hearts breaking, just a little.
For the company, he'd said, his tiny face smiling sadly, shyly, hiding emotion.
I'm not going to say I'm happy about it, he'd said, those beautiful eyes of his darkening with sadness.
I got so used to it, he'd said, his hands trembling.
It's not goodbye, he'd said. Hopeful.
It's not.
It wasn't.
It couldn't be.
Orym...
Absentmindedly, he fished for his lute at the other side of the bed.
You would go and write songs and poems about your thoughts, his brother had reminded him.
Maybe that's what he would do.
What better time than now, where he was saddened with loss and lack, warmed with stories, and emboldened with alcohol?
Part two - Overflow
Orym slept.
It was another sad night.
He dreamt of music.
Of blue, vast and deep like the Ocean.
Of bluebells and jasmine.
Of salty sweat and soft hands.
Of music.
...ng....ie...ak...
...music?
...eye......y ....ooth...che
...music.
...iss....orr....ym.
Orym's eyes shot open.
Surely his mind had played a trick on him.
Right?
...ld have ...ance....omance....
There it was again.
...ld...dared.....orian...
Dorian.
With a start, Orym was awake.
Where was it coming from?
Oh.
He toppled out of bed and made his way to the pile of clothes, rifling through items until he saw a faint glow in the darkness of the night and was able to locate it.
The stone.
Was Dorian sending a message? He listened more closely.
The sweet melody didn't seem to serve a purpose other than to give room to emotion.
The lyrics sounded made up on the spot, clumsily rhymed and strung together, the words slurred at times...
...wait, was Dorian drunk?!
Was this a butt dial?
How could that work with the stone?
One had to think really hard about the person they wanted to contact, there shouldn't be any accidents.
Unless... -oh.
Oooh.
Hastily, Orym reclaimed his position in the bed, pressing the stone close to him, paying attention to not make a sound.
Dorian was thinking about him.
So much he'd connected the stones.
Was deep in thought with a song that, logically, could only be about the halfling.
And was serenading Orym at this very moment, unbeknownst to himself.
Orym felt his cheeks burn at the familiar sweetness of notes and a voice like liquid gold, sweet and smooth like honey, and this wonderfully charming uncertainty that the Genasi always transferred in his voice when writing songs.
His eyes began to sting as his own feelings of yearning welled up inside of him and he stifled a sob out of pure stubbornness. Crying was not on the agenda.
He would quietly listen to this, then turn around and sleep and keep the song in his heart, but never talk about the situation.
Ever.
As one did.
But, a whispered "I miss you", accompanied by a tiny whimper involuntarily escaping couldn't be stopped as he laid the stone under his pillow and closed his eyes.
Part Three - Communication
T/N absolutely butchering the item's capabilities- FOR LOVE
"I miss you", came from his breast pocket.
A whispered sentence.
A quiet whimper.
Dorian startled to a halt.
What was that...?
He knew the voice but...
Oh Gods.
His hand flew to his breast pocket, digging out the sending stone. It was glowing.
Alright, that was.... mortifying.
"........Orym?" Was he going to do this? Really?
"......mh"
"...Orym is that you?"
"......mmmhm"
"..D-did you...hear me play?"
A small chuckle came from the stone.
"Oh I'm so embarrassed. I'm sorry, I-"
"Don't be. It was beautiful", came a quiet mumble.
Dorian let out a breath he didn't know he'd held,"...Really?"
"Mhmm... what I was able to hear, at least... What was it about?"
Dorian heard Orym stifle a yawn.
"What? Oh, the song?"
"Yeah?"
"oh... umm.. Orym, I... it.. ah... ...D-d-dariax says he misses you.."
"...hm?"
"A-a-and so does Opal"
"...mhm?"
"....and so do... I"
"You do?"
"Yes! ...Yes. Yes I do, Orym. I...I miss you. Not only that..."
"...not only that?"
"...Not only that."
Dorian frowned. How was he so bad at forming cohesive sentences? Wasn't he supposed to be a bard, well-travelled, well-spoken, well-received? How was it that in important situations he just- couldn't function?
But Orym waited.
Orym was so patient.
He understood Dorian and his needs so easily.
He was...
"Wonderful"
"...come again?"
Ooh, he simply couldn't stop himself.
"You, Orym. You're wonderful."
"...oh"
"A-and you're all that's been on my mind since I had to- ...since I left. I know this sounds like the dumbest line, but I... I wanted to kiss you so bad when I saw how sad you were about me leaving and I wish-"
"-why didn't you then?"
"-I hadaaah w-w-what...?"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"...you..."
"I wouldn't have minded"
"...y-you..?!"
"I would have liked you to, in fact..."
"Y-y-you would have?!", Dorian gasped. He felt fuzzy. Everything felt warm. His stone, his cheeks, his hands... Was it the alcohol? The warm breeze of the night?
"Yeah...", Orym breathed.
"Orym..."
"I like you, Dorian. Very much so."
Leave it to the Halfling to be brave and take the leap...
"I... I'm so sorry, I-"
"oh..."
"No no no no no, please, don't misunderstand- I...", Dorian took a shaky breath, "I like you very very much as well. I just... Wanted to be less of a coward about it. I'm so sorry I couldn't..."
"...do you want a do-over?"
"A....do-over?"
"Yeah, a... a re-cast. Pretend like you didn't hear me, how about that?"
Dorian let out a chuckle. It was getting too late for this.
"....alright". He cleared his throat, "Orym!"
"Yes, Dorian?"
Okay.
He could do this. He had to.
"I miss you"
"Okay?"
"I wrote a song about you.."
"...ooh?"
"And I really like you"
"You do?"
"So much. I didn't want to leave."
"Really..."
"Yeah... I know this is the worst possible timing, with us far apart and things left unsettled and unclear but..."
"Yes?"
"I'd really like to formally court you , if you would let me...?"
Orym chuckled, "Court me?"
"Y-y-yeah, you know. Date. Hug. Kiss. And stuff"
"I see... And stuff..."
Dorian blushed. He suddenly saw flashes of a small hand balled into the bedsheets. Eyes burning and piercing through him. A trained body writhing in pleasure. Deep blue quickly tinted his face, his ears, his shoulders.
"...if... if... if you wanted to, of course"
"...I am not opposed to it"
Dorian could hear Orym's voice, laced with amusement.
A heavy weight lifted off his shoulders as they continued to talk, their sentences trailing off into yawning more and more.
Until finally, Dorian heard shuffling outside his room, signaling the rest of his troupe retreating to their various rooms. It seemed to be time.
"Listen, Orym, we have some things to do here. But I promise you I will try to reach out and join you soon. And then, ...let's go someplace nice"
"Like... a date?"
"Yeah. Like a date"
"yeah... so... this really was a butt dial, huh?"
Dorian softly chuckled.
"Apparently so.."
"You can do that again then. Now... good night"
And Dorian fell asleep, dreaming about Orym.
And Orym dreamt of music.
Of blue, vast and deep like the Ocean.
Of bluebells and jasmine.
Of salty sweat and soft hands.
He dreamt of a future that he might just strive for.