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| Details |
| Author: | Vond |
| Summary: | After the battle for Voldrune, Satterly and Confessor Greennote try to wind down. A portrait of their personal life, contains nonsexual intimacy. |
| Rating: | M for Mature 17+ |
(Takes place the day before: Let It At Least Be Protecting Someone)
It is the afternoon after the battle at Voldrune. Brendol Westwind had been delivered to Stormwind in the care of two Cobalt Company healers, and the other Argents were half a world or more away in Dalaran, now. Vond had insisted on not pressing Briellen beyond a thorough health check, promising to speak to her in the morning. Now he is struggling to free himself of soot-covered armor in the impromptu sanctuary of an inn room, still trembling with the remnants of some kind of adrenaline surge that was sluggish in clearing. The only further work today would be recovery.
Etone kept unusually quiet for the remainder of their trip, opting for physical closeness rather until they were 'safely' behind closed inn room doors.
Upon arrival the redhead latches the door behind them, disrobes his outerwear to lay in a general crumpled mess and tripping hazard on the floor before slumping down on the side of the tidily kept bed. His hands cup either side of his face as he hunches to rest his elbows on his knees. Muffled through his hands, Etone murmurs, "Light preserve…"
In the clear room lighting, he certainly looks a few shades pale.
It takes longer for Vond to reasonably gear down, and if he notices the amount of ashes being strewn on the floor, perhaps he has simply decided it can't be helped, and moved it lower on the hierarchy of concerns. The unsteadiness in his hands is enough to provide a minor obstacle, and may have proved problematic had the battle carried on longer. His face, however, is full of that frustrated simmering, as if whatever he was experiencing was simply being converted into anger by the time it reached the top.
By the time he finally has the plate arranged, he looks up to find the priest, who is usually hovering closely as soon as they are alone, still slumped there looking drained. The glower evaporates and he hurries to Etone's side, thinks better of further sullying the bed with soot and grime, and sinks down in front of him, reaching for his hands. "Etty?" the note of familiar worry creeps in as the paladin in his sweatsoaked padding searches him.
Offering a quiet groan, the redhead peers between his fingers before surrendering his hands to the paladin. "Nnnmf, that was not on my list of things I expected to do today…"
Gripping Vond's hands in his, Etone tugs the blond closer and leans to kiss his forehead, ash and sweat all the same. "Mnnnf, I'm sorry, let me help you with your armor-" He pauses to carefully search the other’s face, "You're with me right sweet lovey?"
Vond shakes his head, having freed of the armor by now. "'Salright, I got it luv," he insists, then frowns when his hands are drawn further before him and he can no longer ignore the sight of the shaking. He gains a look of intent concentration as he forcibly slows his breathing, focused on silently measuring out the length of each take of air for a spell.
Vond sinks to his knees and presses himself against the other's legs, still clasping his hands. "I am with you. Always. You look completely wiped. D'you need tea or water?" The tiredness looks to be beginning to sink in as the overdriven nerves begin to run themselves out.
Etone offers a relieved sigh as Vond confirms he's not drifting into darker places at this exact moment. "If I'm honest with you, I don't think I've much in me at the moment, I- Tea would be nice - though if I had to choose, I'd much rather you sit with me until you're steady."
Etone slides himself down on to the floor in front of Vond, briefly parting one hand from their hold to place the paladin’s hand over the priest's heart - faintly sped up, the rhythmic beating finds Vond easily enough.
With one hand still holding Vond’s, the other moves to caress the paladin’s cheek. "I'm with you. Don't shy or wander away lost, I need you… I don't think I'll be fit for field for a day or two -" He finally admits sheepishly, "- tomorrow I could probably have our clothes cleaned -"
He's babbling at this point, clearly he's a bit shaken himself.
Vond shifts with a blink when Etone begins sliding down to meet him more squarely, resting back back from his knees to take a seat there and draw the other against him. He gives a slight wince when some strains are discovered, without the masking of the Light's immediate presence and pure adrenaline. The two leave some of the ash against the side of the tucked linens as they lean.
"You… yeah, I mean, whatever you need to recover after that. You did good, luv. You got 'er… I'll settle for gettin' my me cleaned for now."
"Mmn, maybe I'll make some tea while you…? Vondy, sweet lovey, you did well yourself, you know? Mmnf… you're warm. - May I make a selfish request, mmmn..?"
"Just ask for a pot sent up, or I can… Ask of me anything, luv," he answers, perhaps not always the wisest offer, but it is a distraction from the temptation to argue the assessment of his performance.
"Room service, what a wonderful idea, we can let someone else do the heavy lifting tonight. But ah… would you mind braiding or running your fingers against my scalp? Light it'd be something reassuring to say the very least."
Why he's embarrassed over something so innocent, one may never know.
Vond tilts his head back enough to blink up at the priest in surprise. Something pained passes across his face and fades like a cloudshadow. "Do you know how long I've been longing for a night in Dalaran? Clean, real bed, good meal, someone else on guard duty?"
The human's eyes cast down even as he seizes Etone's hands again, breath picking up, a cast of guilt creeping in. "Just to lie with you in idleness and stroke your hair, and cherish your countenance, and hope it's safe. Light, Etty, ever since the last time - how long? That is my selfish desire. I am sorry it has to be in the wake of all of this. But you speak like you are asking an imposition when you have all this time had my heart after it. Let's… let's wash up, arright?"
Etone offers a stupid laugh and murmurs, "Well since we share the same want…" He nudges Vond to meet his gaze, "I'll have none of that right now, thank you. We deserve time together, to relax and recover…"
They offer one another simple reassurances and affections for a spell, then Vond draws them into a stand, sets Etone on his feet, and murmurs, "Just a tick," before stepping away and slipping out of the room, presumably to order tea in his grubby under armor. He returns in some moments with tray in hand. "Some was already getting ready," Vond assures while setting it at the small table and fussing with pouring. Still looking for some kind of task to do. A faint rattle of cup against its saucer betrays his hands' unsteadiness and provokes some mild cursing.
Etone frowns as Vond busies himself with mundane tasks other than the one he said he needed.
"Vond." His tone firm, demanding attention. "Get those filthy clothes off and get in the shower. I'll sit with you- you're not alone - this is Dalaran! They've hot water on demand - " His thoughts more disjointed than usual.
Etone softly closes the distance between them one more, gently taking the cup and saucer from Vond and placing them on a nearby tabletop. "Talk to me." It's half request half demand as the redhead clasps his hands around Vond’s once more, a gentle tug to urge the paladin toward the small bath follows promptly after.
"Doesn't do either of us any good to dwell in this filth - " Turning the faucet handle causes hot water to rain down from above and starts to steam the room.
It's quite obvious now how the priest is pushing himself as well as the paladin, though in different ways.
The human straightens up sharply at the sound of his name in that weighted tone, spilling a slosh of tea onto the tray with the motion, and redness rises to his ears on both accounts. He blinks widely with that usual deer in headlights look of his, leaving the cups behind and beginning to pull at his gambeson while Etone tugs him along. He frowns when his hands find a damp but cold patch of vrykul's blood - that unlike the residues of undeath has not been purged from him in a trail of soot - and even more hurriedly wrestles the articles off of him, balling the padding into a clump that simply unfurls again as soon as it is tossed into the least visually offensive corner he can find.
Vond opens his mouth as if to answer and goes through a few false starts as he discards the final bits and steps into the basin, and the water's spray, posture drawing inward and casting a rather different figure without all of the equipment. The shivering is intermittent and subdued now, and could be passed for the initial chill of disrobing, before the steam begins to rise. He seems at an unusual loss for words, finally making an effort with, "Shite, that was rough wasn't it." Real charming.
"Unnecessarily so, my sweet lovey." The redhead answers matter of factly. "Turn around, I'll wash your back," he guides and does so.
"Maybe pay Clay a visit tomorrow morning? I couldn't - hah" he offers a loud sigh. "If you ever act that rashly Vond - I swear- nnnnngggff - just - don't. "
He trails off quietly in favor of letting Vond’s words form uninterrupted while sitting sideways on the tub basin lip.
Vond turns as asked with a lingering grateful look as he sinks into the basin, facing away, and folds forward slightly, gathering some soap lather for his hair as he presents Etone with some of his collection of ink and brands of variable quality, looking to have been accrued over the course of a number of different hands and skill levels. The odd familiar scar lines still-youthful skin, sparse but present above the line of the more serious healed injury Etone had tended.
He gives pause at Etone's words, though the warm water, steam and pressing hands seem to be calming him further. "You know we're all trained for that. Prepared for it," he insists in a hush, seeming to reassert some spirit of stoic resolve no doubt impressed on him by years of those rites particular to the paladins' discipline. "And you know that you are more key to the Dawn than I am." The possibility is one he seems to see for a given portion of the official job he'd taken up.
Etone grumbles loudly and pinches Vond’s side with one hand while soapily turning the blond's head to face him.
The mere thought seems to have stuck a nerve and the expression Vond is met with easily reflects it. "Don't." Punctuated by a knuckle poke into the other’s side. "That's not what I'm concerned about right now. I can't be the reason you - think of those left behind… if I couldn't call your spirit back or if they did-"
He evens out the prodding with a soft upward stroke and continues to rub down the other’s back. "Would you humor me and admit you are just as important to the cause as I am? Because, Light knows, you are to me…"
Vond squirms at the prodding, stirring the rising water, and regards Etone - or perhaps the blurry impression of him - with a pleading openness of uncertain intention. "Do me a kindness and don't make it difficult, Etty," he answers, suddenly finding his voice, and it comes in a rapid pour.
"Don't make it difficult for me to remain ready for what might be necessary though I pray it wouldn't ever. I am not entirely a fool or a liabilty, no matter what you may've heard. I know my value and the adequacy I've just demonstrated, and that others are depending on me to carry my share. I know how to take into account the risk of being misappropriated, and I know you have measures to prevent that." These are probably not the kind of details Etone has any present interest in discussing.
Vond's hand juts up to the half-elf's jaw, smearing him with soap, his gaze suddenly as challenging as exposed, and as focused as he might manage. "But just as well, I know what you are, as healer, as tactician, representative, counsel to an ocean of souls and the netting that binds them to life. Don't make it difficult. Don't demand of me illusions. Just let me hold dear the times that I can be a man to you as well as a shield, and I will be able to make ready for what lies ahead of us in any form or duration it should take."
Etone offers a quiet huff as Vond opens up.
"What illusions? Am I not real enough? Don't you know how hard it would- it is - knowing you'd throw your life away for mine - when I'd do the exact damned thing for you."
He delivers this with the most loving of tones, he's moved past sassing the paladin at this point and offers a doting expression, "I'll not forgive you if you do it for anyone else though. Compromise enough?" He pauses and teases lightly, "My lovey, you already know I am the very definition of difficult at the best of times." It might suggest he's not interested in pressing the topic further for the moment.
Vond certainly looks perturbed at Etone's insistance that he'd be exactly as willing to leave him alive and bereft, and the desire to further argue is plain. "Illusions of being on par with your usefulness. You being real has everything to do with it." He bites back further pressing, for the moment, scanning the priest over and gently jarring him with the hand at his face. "Get in and wash up."
"You're being thick abou— mmnnf, sure sure, scoot a bit will you?" Left unsaid the priest's thoughts on what he'd do without the other as he huffs his, now slightly damp, undershirt and shorts off and steps into the space Vond’s made for him in hot water.
As he seats himself, the redhead teases again, "Not going to help me?"
Vond gathers handscoops full of water and begins make efforts to lather and clean him, at the same time as pulling his weight in a heavier lean back against him. "Half a mind to upend and dunk you, holy man," <derogatory> <affectionate> he mutters while kneading his hair and scalp, where most of the soot may have landed. "From some of the things that come out of that larkscall, I thought being thick about things is what you keep me around for." He really can't help himself.
Etone sputters briefly before huffing and admitted defeat. "Hah, you got me there, lovey." He chuckles as he cranes his head backwards into Vond’s chest. "Well, you've got some sass back in your mouth haven't you?" More amused and relieved than anything else, Etone beams stupidly back at the otherr, "And for a dunking, while it would be rather comical if you did, I'd make you clean the mess and sulk." It's both a promise and a threat!
His stupid expression slowly melts fond and doting as he cuddles back against the paladin. "How are you feeling, lovey? Is the hot water helping?"
Vond, somehow, in an impressive demonstration of paladin willpower, does not take the opportunity he has been served on a silver platter to be a smartass about his mouth. Instead his scrubbing pauses as his forearms tighten over Etone's middle, head bowing forward in a slight slump. "This isn't good, luv. I almost lost my head out there." It's not quite an answer to the question, though the steadying of the faint shake as he breathes in warm steam might be. "What use am I gonna be if I cannot keep it together in the face of death knights? Shite, and it's different when there are so many living, even when it's not our countrymen turned on us," he murmurs, probably referring to the particular mental challenges that can arise when called to eliminate members of the Cult of the Damned. He may not fully appreciate the methods Etone had once used in the name of rooting them out.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Etone starts. "I'm terrified of bugs."
It's so absurdly mundane that Vond might think he's joking.
Vond blinks, sitting up straighter to tilt his head at Etone questioningly. "Like the nerubians?" He pauses then sloshes a bit as he peers over the edge of the basin and twists about to look down and around. They are on the second floor. And floating in the sky above Crystalsong. They probably aren't in danger of an imminent grab-and-web. Probably.
"No, no, like… bug… bugs…" there is more than a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "Wiggly ones are the worst, they just wriggle and move so quickly ughhhh. Flying wiggly ones: no thank you!" By the way he shifts, shoulders briefly shivering in thought, its likely he's not putting on a show. "The nerubians I can deal with, the silithids thats where it gets weird for me."
He turns a bit, sloshing the hot bath water about, "have you ever tried to reason with a moth?! It's just not done! They just bang at the window and flutter off when you blow out the candle light-" Vond might get the idea that there is some kind of ridiculous tangent just waiting to erupt under the surface.
"But, mmn, spend enough time looking at them and dealing with them… maybe it's easier to desensitize and control the fear - partially why I have so many bizarre companion pets… Light I hate the dragonhawks."
Vond settles back and huffs against Etone's shoulder. "I do somewhat question the likeness, unless you've been trampled to death's door by a moth, luv," he murmurs ruefully. "But I take your point, and it is something I have been considering 's well. I've been avoiding the Blades. Wishing they'd return to the earth sooner rather than later. But what if this is a chance to better prepare for…"
He considers. "How many do you think remain in his thrall?"
Etone offers a quiet sulk, "D'you forget how those nasty bugs swarmed on us - nnnf - yeah you're on to something there, maybe seeing what they've got in a more, uh, 'friendlier' setting?" He leans back against Vond with a heavy sigh this time. "I honestly have no idea… At least none that were at Light's Hope."
"Something else they might be able to inform me on, then. Or you can find out from someone who is more in the know." Vond huffs, caging Etone in tightly and rinsing at his hair with cupped hand. "Anyway, yeah, I'm going to talk to Clay. I don't really like leaving her unwatched after all that."
Etone shrugs against Vond and offers him a how would I know kind of look before humming in thought. "Why don't you reach out to that couple we worked with. Syarra seemed … Willing to talk at least - and if not, leverage the fact that I helped rather than hindered when she was knocking at death's door for the second time."
Vond frowns. "The fellow is… he gives me a bad feeling. I mean, they all do, but. Syarra at least seems serious. And they haven't turned on us yet. Perhaps becoming better acquainted could make us ready for if they ever do." He gives his head a light shake. "I will see to it. I can't be the only one struggling with their presence."
"Light no! They make me incredibly uncomfortable…" Etone offers a soft sigh and flicks soap from his arm. "But if they are amiable to it … I'd like to witness it as well." He stretches and rolls his shoulders, "Don't think I need to remind you… I've also had years of other training before the Dawn. I've — hmmn -! Maybe I can help you put up a sort of mental shield as well…?"
"Like a fear ward?" Vond considers, immediately reaching for the most charitable interpretation in the form of the common priest's technique. "Light, I'd honestly take any help I can get. I do my best, luv. I know I have my strengths, but nerves are not one of 'em. Especially when…"
He bows his head thoughtfully as the comforting warmth of the steam begins to turn boggy from the length of time. "When the Light seizes me, I know nothing but courage, but you know that can only be sustained a short while. It's the point when it passes through, that empty feeling where once was its surety and power. That's when I know the fear most keenly."
"Mmn, then we'll have to fill that void with something else, now wont we." Etone's tone is serious. "I'm with you, lovey. Think of me and know I'll give you whatever hope you need… Yeah?" He leans into the other and offers a soft huff.
They linger a short while longer in idler chatter, rinsing and assessing one another for cleanliness, before Vond's restlessness surfaces and they emerge to take advantage of the inn's amenities - fluffy towels and robes. Vond looks a bit dubious as he tests the fabric with one hand while clumsily toweling at his hair with the other. This all seems a little indulgent, doesn't it? The thing is taken like a piece of contraband, his glance conspiratorial as he wraps it around himself loosely, then opens the drain and the door back into crisper air.
Etone offers a cheeky chuckle, oh what a scandal, bath robes! "Nmhmhm~! Now lets have that tea and have you answer to your promises, shall we?" Before leaving the bath he snatches up a thick bristled brush in one hand while loosely tying the robe hes slipped into shut.
Vond, enfluffed, fusses over Etone a bit, both hands free now to towel his hair a bit briskly before gripping him by the middle and depositing him on the edge of the bed, as if he couldn't have managed seating himself. The priest so placed, Vond finds him some tea which is by now tepid, but nicely flavorful, a bit minty and well-sweetened. He then sits beside him with his own cup and leans heavily to Etone's shoulder. It's been a remarkably slow-paced spot of company when normally Vond has shown himself to be rather eager to hurry toward some 'stress relief' whenever they have a safe moment alone and aren't bogged down with other business, and would surely normally be inclined to take advantage of the comforts of a real inn room.
Rather, he simply huffs quietly while draining his cup, maintaining close contact while working on his breathing and occasionally studying Etone as if his thoughts were in a spin.
Still quite exhausted, the redhead finds himself leaning heavily back against the paladin - two precariously placed beams propping each other up.