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| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | Mordecai returns from a day of worg adventure to Colson in Dalaran, and the priest gets confirmation on who came back from the battle of inner turmoil. 4300-ish words. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Chain: Morson
Colson looks only a little windblown — his hair with slightly more volume than usual. He's got his jewelry kit out on the table, working diligently on his latest project. The no sleeve black shirt, and recently adjusted for new physique light gray pants reveal how pleasant the weather is in Dalaran, the sleeve tattoo on full display.
Mordecai taps lightly on the door to announce himself, letting himself in a moment later. He's clearly dressed for the cold outdoors in his purple frostweave robe and the heavily enchanted black cloak, and the only reason he hasn't started sweating yet is because he hasn't been back in Dalaran long enough. He has no visible injuries.
Colson is already looking up at the door, and he smiles when he sees Mordecai, rising to a stand. He doesn't have his magnifying lenses on, which suggests he isn't in the middle of shaping anything. There are various shadow draenite laid out carefully, but they all seem to be the rough pre-cut forms. "Mordecai." There's faint, audible relief in his voice.
Mordecai smiles. "Colson." As soon as the door is shut and locked behind him, he immediately begins the process of setting his things down and changing out of the robe. Way too warm. Unacceptable.
Colson leaves the kit where it is, as he crosses the room to Mordecai. "Welcome home," he says as he gets closer.
"Thank you." Mordecai hangs the robe up in the wardrobe by the door. "It's good to be back." He's down to a sleeveless undershirt and pants and that seems to be good enough for him at the moment - he turns to Colson, holding a hand out. "I'm all right."
Colson takes his hand, moving in closer for a kiss. "I am glad. The others are well?" He seems to be asking as a polite confirmation, rather than worry that they are not.
"Mmhm." Mordecai nods and pulls Colson closer, kissing him back like he's been waiting a while to do so. It's been hours.
Colson makes a soft sound, pressing in much closer, his other hand drifting to Mordecai's hip to pull him in against him. Reunited at long last.
(It's been hours. Not even that many hours.)
"I could use a shower," Mordecai says quietly. "I won't be long. Everything went well on your end?" He has not let go of Colson at all and is making no attempts to pull away, either.
Colson kisses along Mordecai's jaw. He doesn't seem to be in any hurry to step away. "Yes. All the draenite arrived intact, the gryphons were very pleasant, and I missed you."
Mordecai smiles and says with great fondness, "I missed you too, Colson."
Colson presses another kiss to Mordecai's hair, and with obvious reluctance steps back slowly, releasing his grip on Mordecai. "Shower. Right is cold," he says and the deadpan tone is perfectly on note, but there's a faint smile on his face.
Mordecai automatically leans towards Colson as Colson moves away, just a little. "Right is cold," he repeats. "Thank you, sweetheart." Mordecai turns towards the wardrobe, picking out clean clothes to wear after the shower. "Where's the laundry bag?" It's a new room. He's still getting used to it.
"Here," Colson says, walking to the base of the bed by the trunk, where several of Colson's bags currently rest, including the imbued netherweave laundry complete with its own arcane space for near infinite laundry. That isn't an enchantment. That's just what happens to all laundry bags.
"Thank you." Mordecai strips out of the rest of his clothes with brisk efficiency, right in front of Colson, and it seems to be less of a deliberate show and more of a display of comfort and familiarity with Colson's presence. He puts everything that needs to be washed into the laundry bag and continues on towards the bathroom with the change of clothes he picked out earlier. "I won't be long."
"Take as long as you wish," Colson says, his voice almost distracted, as he watches Mordecai with his arms crossed loosely over his chest, open desire on his face.
"Mmm." Mordecai seems distracted as well, although likely by his own thoughts rather than by Colson, because he disappears into the bathroom and shuts the door without his usual leaving-a-room goodbye touch. The shower turns on a few moments later.
Colson lingers, watching Mordecai leave, before he turns back to the table to put away his work.
It's eight minutes before the water turns off - on the shorter side, as far as Mordecai's showers go - but he doesn't emerge after that.
Colson has taken a seat on the bed. He doesn't seem alarmed or impatient at the delay.
It's a full twenty minutes that goes by before Mordecai calls, "Colson?" from the bathroom.
"Yes?" Colson calls back, and rises to a stand, walking to the door.
"Could… you come here, please?" Mordecai asks. His voice is a little anxious.
Colson moves immediately at the sound of his voice, opening the door and stepping inside. "I'm here, love."
Mordecai stands by the bathroom sink, looking into the mirror. He is dressed in the loose black pants that he wears for dancing sometimes, a red sleeveless shirt, and no socks. His hair is still a little damp, and water from it appears to have dripped down the back of his neck to his shirt. He has a pair of pale yellow socks that he picked out earlier laid out neatly over the back of the toilet seat that he may have forgotten about.
He's holding a small pair of scissors, sharp but slightly curved at the tip, the kind clearly meant for cutting fingernails, in one hand, and he's staring at the mirror like he's expecting his reflection to jump out at him at any moment. He does not look at Colson.
Colson moves closer, slowly, as he reaches out a hand for Mordecai's hand holding the scissors, stepping into his peripheral as he says, "Mordecai? Darling? I'm here."
Mordecai makes no move to stop him. "Do I look normal to you?" It's a very odd question for Mordecai to ask without context, especially in the oddly anxious tone he uses.
Colson brushes his other hand against Mordecai's cheek. "Look at me?" He asks in a quiet, soft voice.
It takes Mordecai a long moment to do so, but he finally tears his eyes away from his reflection to look at Colson.
Colson relaxes only slightly when Mordecai looks at him, and he gently turns Mordecai more to be able to see him. Colson looks him over slowly, his eyes lingering everywhere, his hand tracing along the lines of him, his shoulder, his arm, his hip, with a warmth in the touch of Colson's skin against Mordecai's.
Mordecai seems very tense, and he holds very still, the scissors held tightly in his right hand, allowing Colson to move him.
Colson's eyes unfocus briefly before refocusing on Mordecai's eyes. "You look precisely as you always do, my love. There is something… on you. Magic? Do you want me to remove it? It does not feel harmful, but if it is unwanted, I believe it is dispellable." His voice is extremely calm, and gentle. He doesn't sound or look worried.
Mordecai looks faintly alarmed. "If… you would. Yes. Please."
Colson casts a [Cleanse] over Mordecai, breaking the enchantment.
"Thank you." Mordecai sets the scissors down on the sink, exhaling slowly. He flexes his fingers, darts one final glance at his own reflection, and wraps both arms around Colson.
Colson closes his arms around Mordecai protectively, setting a hand against the back of Mordecai's hair. "I'm here. You look the same, darling. It's alright." There's soft murmurs of reassuring phrases, as he slowly moves his other hand up and down Mordecai's back.
Mordecai makes a quiet noise and slowly relaxes into Colson's arms. "I fought… something like myself today," he says after a minute.
Colson's breathing is calm and steady. "Something like yourself? Another priest of the Light?"
"No, I mean… me." Mordecai shakes his head. "I shouldn't tell this out of order. Should we go sit down?"
Colson makes a soft sound of agreement, pressing a kiss to Mordecai's hair that carries with it a strong [Greater Blessing of Wisdom]. "I think perhaps we should, yes," he agrees.
Mordecai reluctantly untangles himself from Colson to grab his socks, pulling them on quickly and immediately reaching for Colson again the moment he's done. He moves together with him back into their rented room and pushes back the covers on the bed, crawling over Colson's side of the bed to get to his own.
Colson slips into bed with him, leaving his shoes behind, offering up the Mordecai Spot immediately.
Mordecai flips a pillow up against the headboard to lean on and settles into place in the Mordecai Spot. He stretches his legs out in front of him. "First of all, Mrs. Lambert was there." This sounds like a positive thing - Mordecai sounds pleased.
"Ah," Colson says. "Is she well?"
"I… I think so. I should've stayed longer to catch up, but I wanted to come home." Mordecai looks guiltily down at his lap. "She's come a long way as a warlock since the last time I saw her, that's for certain. She had very good control over her Dreadsteed, and the magic she used."
"That is good to hear," Colson says sincerely.
Mordecai smiles faintly and nods. "And I went over there with Caspis, and Sil was there. And Nunuzac, who asked for help in the first place."
"What was the nature of the assistance needed?"
Mordecai takes a deep breath. Here we go. "There was a man in Westguard Keep who had a daughter who was the overseer at a dig site to the north, and he hadn't heard from her in… long enough that he was starting to worry, and he wanted us to check on her. So we did. She was fine, but she was very busy, and she asked if we could help out."
Colson makes an affirmative sound, brushing his fingers gently along Mordecai's shoulder.
Mordecai shivers and leans into the touch a little. "It was busy at the dig site, and there was a gnome pacing around, and a druid who wanted to speak to us later, but first we reported to the person Irena - the overseer - wanted us to report to, and he wanted pilots for their flying machines. To, um. Help lift artifacts out of the dig site."
"Oh?"
Mordecai ducks his head and nods. "I thought maybe we were going to send word to Westguard, but no, he wanted us to pilot them. Um, so Nunuzac, Sil, and Mrs. Lambert gave it a try. Caspis didn't want to touch them, and I-I didn't… feel like I had enough time to learn to fly one safely. So I stayed out too."
"That sounds reasonable. I confess, I would not have felt comfortable attempting to learn such by doing," Colson says in a light voice. For a slow learner who often makes mistakes, that sure is a whole danger catastrophe waiting to happen.
Mordecai smiles sheepishly. "I wouldn't have wanted to have to come home and tell you that I crashed a flying machine."
Colson turns his head more towards Mordecai, a soft look in his eyes. "As long as you came home to be able to tell me about it, that is all that would matter to me."
"To you," Mordecai agrees. "But I would be very embarrassed."
Colson smiles gently. "And I am glad you acted as you wished, love. The others were able to assist with the planes."
Mordecai nods. He begins idly tracing the words of the tattoo on Colson's left arm as he speaks. There are a lot of words, so this is going to take him a while. "The gnome was next to make a request of us. Um, he'd been sent from Westguard Keep to collect materials to make explosives with. Bat guano, specifically. And, for some mysterious reason, he wasn't interested in going into a dangerous forest full of spiders and worgs and bats to collect it himself."
The muscles under Mordecai's fingers tense under his touch, a rise of goosebumps spreading out, as Colson's breathing picks up.
At the words, Colson chuckles, low and deep. "Hm. Perhaps a pollen allergy," he says, his voice very dry.
Mordecai makes a faint 'hm' of amusement, smiling at Colson. The smile dims a moment later as he continues, "He offered Nunuzac a bundle of firecrackers and suggested we might use them to spook the bats deliberately, to scare the… guano out of them." He does not sound like he approves of the method.
"Ah." Colson frowns slightly.
"We decided we would not be doing so, and had better uses of our time," Mordecai says, clearing his throat. "The druid wanted our assistance as well, with a very different situation."
Colson makes a 'hmm' sound, and nods. "I see."
"It seemed cruel," Mordecai mumbles. "To do to the bats."
"Yes," Colson agrees. "After all, time and patience could accomplish the same inevitable end result without needing to do harm to the creatures."
Mordecai nods. "So we didn't. The druid, um, Watcher Moonleaf… she told us that she'd been having dreams about a worg, Ulfang, who reached out to her to ask for help. She wanted us to speak to him about, um, she said that the predators in the region had been acting unusually, and she wanted us to help him and find out why." He continues tracing the tattoo, letter by letter.
"A worg? I was not aware they, ah, spoke."
Mordecai shakes his head. "I don't believe they do, exactly. It was less… a spoken language in the traditional sense and more… well, we could understand the general meaning of what their howling and body language was trying to communicate? Well. In order to get to that point, before she could attune us to their speech, she had us… She asked us to go find a specific shrine on top of a mountain, to 'cleanse our inner turmoil' there through meditation."
Colson seems to have leaped to a logical but incorrect assumption about how metaphorical that may be. "Ah. Yes. The druidic shrines are particularly good for such centering. I found them to be very similar to the Cathedral for providing a sense of peace to clear the mind."
"I think on my way up the mountain, my biggest source of inner turmoil was just that I wasn't very good at meditation," Mordecai admits.
"It is a skill, like any other," Colson says gently. "There are methods that may aid, but the simple truth is that it is an individual experience, and what works for one will not work for another. I have found it to be of great comfort and use, but it is not the only way to address one's needs for centering and clearing the mind."
Mordecai nods. "Caspis gave us some advice on how to go about it, and everyone else sat down, and I was still stuck on the first step - try to remove all thoughts from your mind. And then we were attacked. Caspis first, and then Mrs. Lambert, and then Sil. By, um… I suppose they were maybe shadowy representations of our inner turmoil? Caspis's was a different elf, and Sil's was a woman I didn't recognize, and Mrs. Lambert's was… herself, but more sinister-looking."
Colson blinks. "Oh. That is…certainly a way to address one's inner turmoil to have it become…" He blinks again. "External turmoil."
"Nunuzac wasn't attacked at all," Mordecai says. He sounds jealous. Lucky Nunuzac, having her life together.
Colson makes a faint "hm" sound.
Mordecai shakes his head. "They weren't… very good fighters. The, um, external turmoil. Um. But it was… disturbing. Once I'd made sure the others were all right, well. I still had to make the attempt. Myself. Um."
Colson strokes his hand along Mordecai's shoulder. "Ah. You fought 'something like yourself.' Is that what you meant?"
Mordecai lowers his eyes and stops tracing the tattoo, folding his hands tightly in his lap. "Yes. It-it looked just like me. Exactly like me."
Colson reaches out his hands to Mordecai's, his expression gentle and free of judgment. "I see. Did it bother you?"
Mordecai nods, the movement jerky and quick. "I don't think anyone else heard what it said to me. I didn't hear what the other ones said. But it…"
Colson makes a soft, encouraging sound, his hands warm on Mordecai’s.
"Mrs. Lambert said it named her greatest fear. Sil said something about… making the right decisions?" Mordecai turns his hands palm-up to hold on to Colson's. "Mine said 'Please don't hurt me.'"
Colson's breath comes out in an involuntary shock of air, as he grips onto Mordecai's hands as if the bed dropped out from beneath them. It takes him two seconds before he breathes in again, and lightly pulls Mordecai's hands towards him. "Oh, Mordecai." His voice has gone full Paladin Voice, gentle and reassuring.
Mordecai looks at Colson, his expression telegraphing clear distress. "I'm your Mordecai, right? You can tell? I'm the real one?"
Colson brings Mordecai's hands up to his face, pressing a kiss to Mordecai's wedding ring. "I would know you anywhere, my love. You are no figment, no inner turmoil made manifest, no shadow. You are my Mordecai." There isn't a shred of doubt in his voice.
Mordecai nods. "Good. I-I thought so. I knew you'd be able to tell." He exhales slowly. "I thought I saw my reflection moving, earlier. In the bathroom. I thought I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. But… that, um, that might have just been my imagination playing tricks on me."
"It sounds like an incredibly unsettling experience," Colson says softly.
Mordecai nods. "It just vanished when they killed it. I couldn't… I couldn't bring myself to hurt it. I-I promised I you wouldn't. Hurt… myself. Again. I just shielded myself to keep it out."
Colson closes his eyes, and there's a relaxing in his hands, as he exhales slowly. "I see. Thank you." He opens his eyes to look at Mordecai, relief in his expression. "I am grateful for the others, for taking on that burden."
"I didn't let it hurt me, either," Mordecai says quietly. "But I've been keeping that promise. You don't have to worry about that, love."
"I trust you, darling. And I believe in you," Colson says, conviction in his voice. "I also would understand if you needed to defend yourself against something like that, as…difficult as it may be. You are the real one that needs to be protected from harm. I would prefer if you did not need to make such a decision and evaluate it in those ambiguous terms, however, and I am glad today was such a circumstance with the others by your side."
"I'm the real one," Mordecai repeats quietly to himself. He nods. "All right. That's… good to know. I hope it never comes up again."
"As do I," Colson says sincerely.
Mordecai squeezes Colson's hands once and releases them. "After that, we… we went back to Watcher Moonleaf, and she cast a spell to allow us to communicate with the worgs, and she gave us magical disguises to wear that made us appear as worgs, that would allow us to pass amongst them to get to Ulfang."
"Ah." Colson hesitates. "Would you say that you were all identical worgs, or would you say there were notable differences among you?" He asks, a note of curiosity in his voice.
Mordecai smiles at him. "I would say we were all identical worgs." He doesn't seem to remember where he was in the tattoo-tracing; he starts from the shoulder again.
Colson nods his head slowly as if this confirms something. "That is always the strangest part of such things. To this day I am not certain why none of the Scarlet Crusade questioned the presence of four identical bald men entering their stronghold, but I suppose that to some effect if one was only looking at the tabard…" He trails off with a 'hm.' "With something like worgs, however, one might expect they would be more difficult to fool, from scent alone if nothing else. Surely that many should not share an identical scent."
"It was less of an infiltration, so to speak, and more of…" Mordecai shrugs. "Perhaps to help us communicate, and to mark us as allies? I don't know, honestly. I just know that it worked." The tattoo-tracing seems to be somewhat soothing for Mordecai; he's settling back down into a calmer tone again.
Colson's breathing has picked up again and he shifts a little. It takes him a second to refocus on the words. "I see. It was a successful parlay then?"
"It was." Mordecai smiles fondly at him. "When we mentioned Watcher Moonleaf, Ulfang recognized her name, from his dreams. He told us that an unfamiliar worg had come to his pack and assumed leadership of it, and his two brothers turned against him to support the newcomer."
Colson frowns slightly in thought.
"He wanted us to kill his brothers, first." Mordecai shrugs. "Caspis said that 'sometimes death is necessary to restore balance'. He seemed in favor of us getting involved and following Ulfang's directives, as self-serving as they initially seemed. After we'd slain his brothers, he told us that the newcomer, a white worg from the north named Garwal, used some sort of magic to make himself invisible, and to see through this invisibility, Ulfang told us to kill one of his enemies, an… eagle. Named Talonshrike. Who could supposedly see anything. And bring back her eyes."
"Caspis said that 'clashes such as these are the way of nature,' but it did seem like something was… odd."
"Ah. That can be difficult. When one is working for another…culture or nation, as it may be, sometimes it is necessary to trust that they have a fuller understanding of the situation than it may be possible to grasp from limited information. There are times, of course, than an outsider may at times provide a perspective worth considering, or offer solutions that may not have been apparent or available. But I have found that druids in particular tend to believe in balance, and that nature is not always gentle in its solutions. Or in some cases, neither is it straightforward, in the case of eagle eyes used rather…literally in this case."
"I do think they might have been magical eagle eyes," Mordecai says thoughtfully. "We brought them back, and Ulfang told us to eat them."
There's a pause.
"There were only two eyes. Caspis ate them both."
"Ah." Colson doesn't make a face. There's no face.
There's a bit of a face. A little bit around the eyes. Ew.
"Well. He is a druid." Maybe that can be enough of an explanation. Colson seems to think so.
Mordecai smiles at Colson, his expression shining with affection. "I was standing there trying to figure out how we could each eat two-fifths of an eyeball and he just ate them both. And it was true. Garwal was invisible at first. Caspis had to find him for us."
Colson makes a sound of agreement. Very reasonable.
"During the battle, Garwal took on a different form. Caspis called him a worgen?" Mordecai tilts his head.
"A worgen?" Colson's attention is already fully on Mordecai, but there's a sharpening of his expression. "I have had the displeasure of dealing with those in the past. Duskwood has a pervasive problem with them. They are ferocious and vicious."
Mordecai nods. "Caspis said they used to be druids who used to take the form of the wolf?" He frowns faintly. "I'll ask him more about that at some point…" The tattoo-tracing is approaching Colson's elbow. "Anyway, we went back to tell Watcher Moonleaf, and then Irena's father, and then we split up…"
Colson licks his lips in a quick motion. He's focused. On the words. "You split up into groups, or each to their own?"
"That - that was it, I mean. Some of us hearthed home. I hearthed home." Mordecai shrugs and looks down. "I… probably should have stayed to see how Mrs. Lambert was doing, but I-I wanted to get back to you."
Colson smiles gently, reaching out a hand to Mordecai's cheek. "I understand, love. Particularly after such a day, there are times when even as a healer, we must see to our own needs and wants. There have been times I have been aware that another may be having a difficult moment after a day's work, but I have had to choose to prioritize my own fatigue. I do so, knowing that I have promised to take care of myself, on your behalf to value that which you cherish."
Mordecai nods. "I wanted to see you. I knew it would help." He takes Colson's left hand gently by the wrist, rotating it a little so that he can continue tracing letters on the tattoo more easily.
Colson's pulse jumps as Mordecai's fingers go over the more sensitive skin of forearms. "I am glad," he says, his voice a little lower. "That I was able to help."
"Always, Colson." Mordecai leans a little closer. "Look at you," he says in a low voice. "Beautiful."
Colson meets his gaze with his heart in his eyes, reaching out his right hand to Mordecai's cheek as he leans in for a kiss. "Yours."
"Mine," Mordecai agrees, a pleased note of possessiveness in the word.
"I will always know you," Colson promises as he presses in close. "I know where I belong."