Chapter Text
Shortly after Deni$e left their group, Dorian Storm returned.
The three of them were intent to find the other half of the Bells Hells, traveling endlessly in order to arrive at the last known location of their companions, but after the events of what had occurred with Bor’dor, the dynamic between them had changed. Laudna held a heavier sort of sadness to her that she hadn’t held in a long time, Ashton was broodier, and Orym…Orym didn’t talk very much, lost in his own thoughts of guilt and shame.
To say Dorian returning to the group was welcomed would be an understatement; Ashton and Laudna had been thrilled, talking his ear off since his arrival to find out everything that they’d missed and how the other side of the country had changed since the Solstice.
Orym, however, had stuck himself in a table in the back of the tavern, not wanting to engage with Dorian at all.
“How did you find us?” Ashton asked, clearly surprised but not unhappy that Dorian was there.
“Well, an old friend of my friend Dariax joined our group and said she’d met you,” Dorian explained. “She told me where you all were heading and where you were when she’d left so I thought I’d meet you halfway.”
“ Oh , you met Deni$e,” Laudna said cheerfully. “She’s wonderful. I’m glad she found who she was looking for and managed to help you find us.”
“It’s so good to see you all again,” He heard Dorian say, the smile evident in his voice. Even though Dorian looked like he’d been through the wringer, he was doing a fantastic job of not acting like it. Ashton and Laudna did an equally excellent job of not calling them out on it based on what they’d seen through the scry. “When I couldn’t get through on the stone, I have to admit I was getting worried.”
“What about your other friends?” Ashton asked next.
“Everyone is fine,” Dorian reassured them and Orym closed his eyes, relieved to hear it. “We ran into some trouble right after the Solstice started but things seemed to level out so I took advantage of the opportunity to check in.”
“Will they be alright without you?” Laudna chimed in. “Orym mentioned one of your friends wasn’t doing well.”
“We got it all figured out and she’s in a much better place than she used to be,” Dorian said easily and Orym believed him. He wouldn’t have left the Crown Keepers if they’d needed him and he knew that for a fact.
“I’m so glad to hear that, Dorian,” she cooed. “Everyone will be so delighted to see you.”
“Speaking of which, where’s Orym?” Dorian asked. “Isn’t he with you?”
A short silence followed before Orym felt eyes on him, the group finally having pointed out his presence. On any other occasion, Orym would have been the first one up, throwing his arms around Dorian’s waist in relief that he was healthy, safe, and alive.
But now?
How could he even look at Dorian after the things he’d done?
“Yeah, he’s…ah…sitting back there,” Ashton replied, their tone cautious. After what had happened with Bor’dor, there’d been tension between the three of them, one that they hadn’t been able to face, each blaming themselves for a different aspect of the event. “He’ll be happy to see you.”
“He really did miss you,” Laudna said. “Seeing you could be good for him.”
Another silence followed, more than likely accompanied by an exchange of looks, some sad and some concerned. Orym could only imagine what the group would talk about when he was out of earshot, probably everything he deserved to have said about it.
“Ah, hey,” Dorian began, tone cheerful once again. “I’ll be back in a minute. Will you order me something to eat? I’m starved.”
There were some murmurs of agreement followed by a shuffling of feet as the group departed from the area. However, not even a moment later, Orym caught movement out of the corner of his eyes and with a quick glance identified the boots next to the table as Dorian’s.
Orym didn’t look up.
“Hey, you,” Dorian said, voice soft and teasing. “Too busy over here to come to say hi?”
Orym felt his lips curl just a twitch at the corner. Normally, Orym would respond in an equally teasing way, but today?
“No,” he admitted quietly. He couldn’t lie to Dorian. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Dorian told him, sounding surprised. “I’d just thought…you know…after everything, you’d be happy to see me.”
“I am happy to see you,” Orym insisted. He was, truly, he was. Knowing his loved ones were still alive and so close after being apart for so long was a relief that he couldn’t even put words to.
“Can you say that?” Dorian asked next, craning his head, trying to see his face. The tone was still teasing but there was something else there. Had he upset him? “You haven’t even looked at me since I walked in the door.”
Orym turned his face, avoiding Dorian’s gaze.
If Dorian saw, then he would know .
He would know every rotten thing he’d done since the Solstice began; the crimes he’d committed, the people he’d killed. He would know how he looked at the people who had wronged him and no longer saw people but saw things , things that murdered people he loved so dearly, and showed no mercy to them as they bled out on the ground. He would know how he looked Laudna in the eyes and forced her to awaken a darkness inside of herself that she’d locked away, endangering her all for the sake of feeling his sense of satisfaction.
He couldn’t let Dorian see him.
Orym could hear Dorian as he moved, feeling the table shift as the genasi settled into the chair beside him. He could hear the soft tap tap tap of thoughtful fingertips against the wood as Dorian debated his next move, maybe even hoping Orym would turn and make the move first.
Orym, however, continued to look away.
There was a touch on his arm, so gentle and the squeeze that followed was inquisitive. Orym felt his eyes sing with tears because he wanted so badly to turn and hide his face in Dorian’s chest and figure out where it had all gone so wrong. Dorian would understand, wouldn’t he? He’d understand and would know how to fix him.
“Orym?”
There was a moment when the world seemed to slow down.
The invitation was there, Dorian could tell something was wrong and wanted to know what it was. There was no judgment there, just concern, and how could someone so good still be concerned over someone with so much blood on his hands?
“I-I can’t ,” Orym choked out, pulling his arm away. He stood from his seat, still staring at the floor, still hiding. “Dorian, I can’t, I’m sorry.”
And Orym did something that he would never usually do.
“Orym!”
He ran.