[Written a clear and fancy hand - oh hey look at that another elf with an education! - it is folded into a small swan.]
Hey Handsome,
I heard your wife wasn't doing well, and I wanted to know if there was anything I could do for the two of you. I can get my hands on pretty much anything in Kirkwall, so let me know. Price is never an object.
[Sorrel's handwriting is slightly loopy and full of overlong tails, but readable and consistent.]
Adasse
If price is never an object then how about a gold silk cloak and a giant bag of candied nuts for good measure. I had no idea you were secretly a prince.
[A reply dropped off right before lunch states simply.]
Handsome,
Not even a little too late.
Adasse A
~~~~
And good to his word, Adasse was at Sorrel and Beleth's door at two in the afternoon, a bulging satchel on his back and a whistle on his lips. He leaned against their doorframe and rapped on it three times, waiting to see if he heard an answer from within before he stepped inside.
Not that it's his to lock, of course, though Beleth did give him a key. Sorrel is preoccupied when Adasse enters, tidying something that's left a smudge on his knuckles and papers scattered across the low table. Hes bent over, sweeping them all into an unkempt pile-- and then he turns.
And smiles.
"Aneth Ara, Adasse. It's not time already--" A glance at the window, no longer barred from its previous use, but still greivously narrow, "--I see that it is. Sorry about the mess."
Adasse slips in, tutting softly at Sorrel as he did so, a teasing grin on his lips. "See, and that's how thieves get in, Handsome."
Aaaah, that smile lights up an entire room. Too, too good there, Sorrel. His dark eyes flick with interest over the papers, but then go to the other elven man with a merry laugh.
"Yeaaaaah, someone let time get away from them, eh? What are you working on, anyways?"
"Poor thieves. I should spare them the fate Beleth will give them, and lock up better," He's laughing, but it's true-- though perhaps Adasse doesn't quite realize it, "Unless they're invited, of course."
Present company and all that. Sorrel glances back at the papers, then shrugs one-shouldered, dusting his hands together to combat the smudging. The pile of rough parchment does nothing at all, except continue to be as it is; rough-edged, slightly grey from use and remaking, and here and there showing a line of black half-obscured in the strata.
"No, that's nothing. Just something to keep my hands busy, more or less. What've you got, there?"
"You should. Look what happened to me - made an honest man against my will!" He put a hand to his chest, looking mournful. "Oh the pain ... the humiliation ... however will I bear it?"
He frowns again at the papers, before his smile returned and he put the satchel on an empty table. "Exactly what the man requested -- one golden cloak." And he pulled out a rich looking Orelsian cape in bright gold. He also brought out a large bag of candied nuts.
Sorrel blinks and only slowly comes to the realization that this is...genuinely his fault. Gold silk?
"Creators, Adasse..." He picks up the golden cloak, it's shining and beautiful in his fingers, like real liquid metal made cool and smooth to the touch. He has no idea for the cost of such a thing. The sweets are equally fine, nuts he doesn't know crusted with sugar thick enough to sparkle like a treasure, "...you really..."
He stops, caught without words. Gold and gems. Adasse has brought him a trove of gold and gems.
"I was joking," He says, helplessly, "And now I don't know what to say. This is amazing, thank you."
"You were?" Adasse gave him a mock-innocent look. "Oh gracious, I had no idea." He put a hand to his chest. "And to think I have liberated this without permission. Whatever shall I do."
He cracked a smile, a warm smile, before his gaze became serious. "I - the alienage - we all owe a lot to your wife. Beyond that ... I like you, Sorrel Ashara. And I've been seeing how rough it's been on you, so if I can bring even a hint of that smile back? I'll do it. I meant it, too. Whatever you need."
Sorrel... reacts. His face, open and with no reason to guard morphs through a series of emotions-- first a smirk, at the joke, but then a complicated mix of sorrow and wonder. He's grateful for the gifts, and more than that for the consideration; Sina is more than worthy of all that, in his mind. But he never thought of an alienage as something like a clan before. Or a group of alienage elves as people who might band together to express so kind a sentiment.
Truly, he hasn't put much thought into it at all.
"I'm alright, truly. Watching Sina--" He has to stop, choked, blinking. It hits him at odd times, but only briefly, "Now, you can't tell anyone I told you this. Promise?"
He tries on the ghost of a grin, conspiratorial.
"Sina's favorites are always the human-made stuff, and I think she thinks it's a secret-- but I've seen it. She must've got a taste for the fancy sugar candies when they all trooped into Orlais for a month. But she never actually takes any for herself unless they're gifts; rude to refuse a gift, you know?" He shakes the bag of sweets Adasse had procured meaningfully, "Can't help it if someone just gives her the stuff, after all. Then it's always the first thing to vanish. Mysteriously."
"I'm glad we're both invested in this liking one another business." Adasse cracked another warm smile at him, before his dark eyes become sadder -- and more understanding. He moves forward, and puts a hand on Sorrel's shoulder, squeezing gently.
"I promise." A sly smile in turn, before he gets that slightly mocking tone once more. "Well I cannot help if things suddenly just appear as gifts for her, now can I? Many more sweet things just ... like magic. Poof!"
"If sweets could appear by magic, we'd all have to be rolled down the street," Sorrel shakes his head. Poof indeed, "Thanks doesn't seem enough, really. I don't have anything-- wait here, I might have one thing."
And with one hand outstretched to entreat patience, Sorrel vanishes into one of the side-rooms, looking for whatever-it-is, leaving Adasse with the empty room, the gold silk and bag of candied nuts, and untidy, unsupervised pile of papers.
And like the good master thief that Adasse is - the cloak and the nuts are left unsullied, while he angles himself to be able to rad the papers. One ear cocked towards Sorrel, a flick of a look to the door for Beleth’s possible arrival. He is careful just to glance and not to move, absorbing whatever he can.
Most of them seem to be no more than idle scribblings, vague figures of people, or horses, or the blocky shape of Kirkwall's unrelenting statuary. A few seem more extensive, renderings in common charcoal and the rare bit of ink. Beleth's face is easily recognizable, lined with loving familiarity, next to the graceful bend of a Halla's ear, or a somewhat incorrect image of a ship in the harbor-- something wrong in the rigging, or the way the sails bend. It's rough there, as if Sorrel gave it several tries and settled on its current form with only grudging satisfaction.
There is a sound, from the back room as if someone had thrown something softish and hit the wall.
They're quite good, some of them, but seem to have all been given little consideration, the black made cloudy-grey in many places where simple, careless friction has rendered what was good into a blur almost beyond comprehension. One or two are torn some ways down, as if a strip had been taken out of the paper for some unknowable reason.
"Found it!" Sorrel makes his return, carrying a soft brown something in one hand, about the size of a very flat kitten, "Now, I know these were gifts. But where I'm from we like to give in turn, where we can. I don't know if it works the same in kirkwall..."
Adasse tipped his chin to the side, taking in the measure of the art before him -- because it truly was art. It was hard, not reaching down to flip through the various pieces, to find something he would call his favorite.
He shifted back as soon as Sorrel's step could be heard on the stone, leaning against the wall as if he hadn't moved a muscle. He unfolded his arms, looking curiously at it. "... Well I always like gifts. Uh, what ... is it?"
"Look and see," He says instead of explaining, and tosses the bundle at Adasse. It's a pair of gloves, soft doeskin, without fingers, embroidered around the cuffs with green thread like little vines, or leafless branches, "Now I might not be much for cities, but I was born in the Free Marches and it gets cold enough that even a master thief might like something to keep his hands warm. I meant them for Beleth."
He admits it a little sheepishly-- although even a cursory examination could tell that the gloves are nothing like her size. Errors were made, so it would seem, but much to Adasse's benefit.
Now it is Adasse's turn to be stunned momentarily to silence, as he stares at the gloves in his hand. He rubs his fingers along the fine stitching -- knowing by the size alone these were never meant for Beleth. The leather is soft, supple, as easy to slip on as diving into water. He pulls them on and twists his hands this way and that, before he looks up at Sorrel with shining dark eyes.
"...These are ... these are the most beautiful gloves I've ever owned. Ever. I - thank you. Thank you so much, Sorrel."
Almost immediately, Sorrel has to look away, the tips of his ears already starting a blush. Oh honestly, Adasse, you can't have a face like that; there ought to be a law.
"S'just a pair of archer's gloves," He mumbles, combing one hand back through his hair, as embarrassed as he is pleased, "Nothing to worry about."
And they do suit Adasse, after all. The fit is well enough and... and well, look at him!
"Just consider it a... thank you, for helping acquire such fine gifts for Sina."
Well, now you're just going to going to get the biggest grin ever, as Adasse looks at his gloves once more. "Hey, a thief knows his crafting, serah. These are handstitched, Dalish-made leather gloves. The workmanship alone would make these top notch -- but the designed stitching? Seriously, Sorrel ... I ... never owned anything like this."
He paused, for a moment, then stated simply, "Can I hug you? Is that okay?"
"Of course they're Dali-- Adasse," Finally, he senses the joke, and turns back to offer Adasse an exasperated look; he of course does this just in time to catch the sincerity flat-footed, "Uh... Well, of course it is."
And then he stands there, like a fool, as if he weren't entirely sure what to do with his hands.
Adasse's eyes flashed laughter, before he moves forward and wraps his arms around Sorrel, hugging him tightly and with as much gratitude as he can carry in his thin frame.
"Yes ... yes we very much are."
And that was a dangerous thing right there, but Adasse rolled the dice on this one. For a man who gave him such a fine present with nothing more than baubles in return? It was completely worth it to risk friendship over caution.
Sorrel doesn't like to think of himself as someone who is, by nature, a hugger. If asked, he would prefer to imagine a somewhat rakish, lone-wolf sort, walking the forests with the same fearless confidence that he faces fade demons. The reality is a little more touch-starved, and when Adasse presses in around him, Sorrel can't help but return the gesture, just as tightly.
Alright, so perhaps he's a hugger. But only a little.
Shut up.
"I'm glad to hear it," He replies, meaning it to come out with the aforementioned confidence, and is chagrined when the sound that emerges from his mouth is caught awkwardly between a mumble and a whisper. Dammit, "I should go... see if Sina's woken up. She'll be glad too-- for the gifts, I mean. And maybe that I've made a friend."
And so too, indeed, must all good things come to an end. Sorrel lets go.
Adasse would also like to think of himself as a lone wolf -- but sometimes ... even a wolf could use a little affection. Or, a great deal, if the tightness of their hug was anything.
He leans back as Sorrel does, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, of course. Give her my best. Tell her if she wants anything else ... I'm on it."
He smiles, saluting with one hand, before he headed towards the door. He pauses there for a moment, looking over his shoulder. "Remember, I'm right up the stairs, if you need anything, all right?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Note stuck under the door
Hey Handsome,
I heard your wife wasn't doing well, and I wanted to know if there was anything I could do for the two of you. I can get my hands on pretty much anything in Kirkwall, so let me know. Price is never an object.
Sincerely,
Adasse A.
reply note
Adasse
If price is never an object then how about a gold silk cloak and a giant bag of candied nuts for good measure. I had no idea you were secretly a prince.
With gratitude,
Sorrelean Ashara
Reply in turn
Handsome,
Done. Just tell me the time and place to drop off the goods.
Sincerely,
Adasse A.
no subject
[There is a smudge here, as if someone had written something, then had second thoughts, and rubbed it out.]
I'll be free this afternoon if that's not too late
Sorrelean Ashara
no subject
Handsome,
Not even a little too late.
Adasse A
~~~~
And good to his word, Adasse was at Sorrel and Beleth's door at two in the afternoon, a bulging satchel on his back and a whistle on his lips. He leaned against their doorframe and rapped on it three times, waiting to see if he heard an answer from within before he stepped inside.
no subject
Not that it's his to lock, of course, though Beleth did give him a key. Sorrel is preoccupied when Adasse enters, tidying something that's left a smudge on his knuckles and papers scattered across the low table. Hes bent over, sweeping them all into an unkempt pile-- and then he turns.
And smiles.
"Aneth Ara, Adasse. It's not time already--" A glance at the window, no longer barred from its previous use, but still greivously narrow, "--I see that it is. Sorry about the mess."
no subject
Aaaah, that smile lights up an entire room. Too, too good there, Sorrel. His dark eyes flick with interest over the papers, but then go to the other elven man with a merry laugh.
"Yeaaaaah, someone let time get away from them, eh? What are you working on, anyways?"
no subject
Present company and all that. Sorrel glances back at the papers, then shrugs one-shouldered, dusting his hands together to combat the smudging. The pile of rough parchment does nothing at all, except continue to be as it is; rough-edged, slightly grey from use and remaking, and here and there showing a line of black half-obscured in the strata.
"No, that's nothing. Just something to keep my hands busy, more or less. What've you got, there?"
no subject
He frowns again at the papers, before his smile returned and he put the satchel on an empty table. "Exactly what the man requested -- one golden cloak." And he pulled out a rich looking Orelsian cape in bright gold. He also brought out a large bag of candied nuts.
"Does this satisfy your needs, serah?"
no subject
"Creators, Adasse..." He picks up the golden cloak, it's shining and beautiful in his fingers, like real liquid metal made cool and smooth to the touch. He has no idea for the cost of such a thing. The sweets are equally fine, nuts he doesn't know crusted with sugar thick enough to sparkle like a treasure, "...you really..."
He stops, caught without words. Gold and gems. Adasse has brought him a trove of gold and gems.
"I was joking," He says, helplessly, "And now I don't know what to say. This is amazing, thank you."
no subject
He cracked a smile, a warm smile, before his gaze became serious. "I - the alienage - we all owe a lot to your wife. Beyond that ... I like you, Sorrel Ashara. And I've been seeing how rough it's been on you, so if I can bring even a hint of that smile back? I'll do it. I meant it, too. Whatever you need."
no subject
Sorrel... reacts. His face, open and with no reason to guard morphs through a series of emotions-- first a smirk, at the joke, but then a complicated mix of sorrow and wonder. He's grateful for the gifts, and more than that for the consideration; Sina is more than worthy of all that, in his mind. But he never thought of an alienage as something like a clan before. Or a group of alienage elves as people who might band together to express so kind a sentiment.
Truly, he hasn't put much thought into it at all.
"I'm alright, truly. Watching Sina--" He has to stop, choked, blinking. It hits him at odd times, but only briefly, "Now, you can't tell anyone I told you this. Promise?"
He tries on the ghost of a grin, conspiratorial.
"Sina's favorites are always the human-made stuff, and I think she thinks it's a secret-- but I've seen it. She must've got a taste for the fancy sugar candies when they all trooped into Orlais for a month. But she never actually takes any for herself unless they're gifts; rude to refuse a gift, you know?" He shakes the bag of sweets Adasse had procured meaningfully, "Can't help it if someone just gives her the stuff, after all. Then it's always the first thing to vanish. Mysteriously."
no subject
"I promise." A sly smile in turn, before he gets that slightly mocking tone once more. "Well I cannot help if things suddenly just appear as gifts for her, now can I? Many more sweet things just ... like magic. Poof!"
no subject
And with one hand outstretched to entreat patience, Sorrel vanishes into one of the side-rooms, looking for whatever-it-is, leaving Adasse with the empty room, the gold silk and bag of candied nuts, and untidy, unsupervised pile of papers.
no subject
Old habits die hard.
no subject
Most of them seem to be no more than idle scribblings, vague figures of people, or horses, or the blocky shape of Kirkwall's unrelenting statuary. A few seem more extensive, renderings in common charcoal and the rare bit of ink. Beleth's face is easily recognizable, lined with loving familiarity, next to the graceful bend of a Halla's ear, or a somewhat incorrect image of a ship in the harbor-- something wrong in the rigging, or the way the sails bend. It's rough there, as if Sorrel gave it several tries and settled on its current form with only grudging satisfaction.
There is a sound, from the back room as if someone had thrown something softish and hit the wall.
They're quite good, some of them, but seem to have all been given little consideration, the black made cloudy-grey in many places where simple, careless friction has rendered what was good into a blur almost beyond comprehension. One or two are torn some ways down, as if a strip had been taken out of the paper for some unknowable reason.
"Found it!" Sorrel makes his return, carrying a soft brown something in one hand, about the size of a very flat kitten, "Now, I know these were gifts. But where I'm from we like to give in turn, where we can. I don't know if it works the same in kirkwall..."
no subject
Adasse tipped his chin to the side, taking in the measure of the art before him -- because it truly was art. It was hard, not reaching down to flip through the various pieces, to find something he would call his favorite.
He shifted back as soon as Sorrel's step could be heard on the stone, leaning against the wall as if he hadn't moved a muscle. He unfolded his arms, looking curiously at it. "... Well I always like gifts. Uh, what ... is it?"
no subject
He admits it a little sheepishly-- although even a cursory examination could tell that the gloves are nothing like her size. Errors were made, so it would seem, but much to Adasse's benefit.
"But I think they might suit you better."
no subject
"...These are ... these are the most beautiful gloves I've ever owned. Ever. I - thank you. Thank you so much, Sorrel."
no subject
"S'just a pair of archer's gloves," He mumbles, combing one hand back through his hair, as embarrassed as he is pleased, "Nothing to worry about."
And they do suit Adasse, after all. The fit is well enough and... and well, look at him!
"Just consider it a... thank you, for helping acquire such fine gifts for Sina."
no subject
He paused, for a moment, then stated simply, "Can I hug you? Is that okay?"
no subject
And then he stands there, like a fool, as if he weren't entirely sure what to do with his hands.
"We are friends, aren't we?"
no subject
"Yes ... yes we very much are."
And that was a dangerous thing right there, but Adasse rolled the dice on this one. For a man who gave him such a fine present with nothing more than baubles in return? It was completely worth it to risk friendship over caution.
no subject
Alright, so perhaps he's a hugger. But only a little.
Shut up.
"I'm glad to hear it," He replies, meaning it to come out with the aforementioned confidence, and is chagrined when the sound that emerges from his mouth is caught awkwardly between a mumble and a whisper. Dammit, "I should go... see if Sina's woken up. She'll be glad too-- for the gifts, I mean. And maybe that I've made a friend."
And so too, indeed, must all good things come to an end. Sorrel lets go.
no subject
He leans back as Sorrel does, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, of course. Give her my best. Tell her if she wants anything else ... I'm on it."
He smiles, saluting with one hand, before he headed towards the door. He pauses there for a moment, looking over his shoulder. "Remember, I'm right up the stairs, if you need anything, all right?"
(no subject)