medietas_ooc | Test Drive

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!test drive meme

Test Drive

Welcome to Medietas! Are you interested in joining the game? Do you have an old muse you want to dust off? Are you looking for a place to voice test a brand new character and would like to do so in our little island setting? Well, you've come to the right place!

You all know what to do but if you don’t, just follow the instructions and HAVE FUN!

How To Play:

→ Comment with the character you’d like to test drive. Don’t forget to add their name and canon in the subject line.
→ Choose a scenario, or start your own!
→ Tag around!

Possible Scenarios:

1. New Arrival: You have just arrived on the island of Medietas, in the city of Aerilon via a floating boat with people you may or may not know. Of course, you can't help wondering what the heck is going on here, or how you even got on the boat in the first place. But as soon as the vessel docks you are greeted by some lovely locals who offer you a map and a communications device before leaving you to your own. You probably have questions and there seems to be a number of people there already who may or may not have those answers. Talk to them! Or, get on the network and introduce yourself!

2. Getting Settled: So, you've arrived, but now there's five islands you should get yourself acquainted with. Meet your starter home neighbors! Start your new job! Check out the market on Aerilon. Or, attend one of the many block parties!

3. Lost!: Somehow you got yourself turned around and confused and getting back to where you want to be is looking impossible.

4. Wild Card: Got something else in mind and want to create your own scenario? Go for it!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Humming quietly, he watched the spirit move into the dark locks of the other mans hair, arching an eyebrow before offering a smile. An agreement with a spirit, sometimes a dangerous thing, but it seemed to work out for him thus far so who was Dorian to judge; of course he always judged, but so far it seemed the small creature didn't mean much harm, they had after all assisted him with his gardening thus far, so maybe he would have to borrow them both to continue in the near future.

"So, you made an agreement with a spirit. What do they get out of it? Certainly I hope more than a nest in your hair." Dorian looked the other up and down pointedly before turning back to his garden, dropping back down to his knees and making sure his body was turned halfway towards Cricket, so they could at least continue the conversation without his back turned to him. Productivity at it's finest. Exhaling, he took up the mint plant and dislodged it from it's previous housing with a gentle shake of the stem before pulling it out.

"How do you fancy getting a little dirty? You don't seem like the type that would mind."

It's always a dangerous thing, but with smaller spirits like this one not as dangerous as if making a bargain with larger ones. Perhaps if Cricket had known what sort of life would happen to him when he first made his bargain he might not of. But more than likely he would have. It was - for the most part - a good life.

Beyond the occasional... incident.

"Music, in Aisling's case. At least that's what I believe, though sometimes I do wonder." He wonders because well, spirits aren't always what they seem to be after all.

If the spirit had any response, he didn't get any nor did he ever get any.

"And no, I don't mind getting a little bit dirty. Besides your mint and black cohosh, what do you need help with?" he said with a slight laugh and taking that as an invitation to come closer, having hung back a little since he had sort of invaded the man's plot of land.

Danger was always an element of excitement, an element of fun to the mundane life. Dorian never seemed to mind a bit of it, but with his background in necromancy he handles spirits very carefully knowing fully well what powers they possess. Still, it was the mans choice and if he was able to take on the creature so easily he figured there was no issue to concern himself with. It was an individual choice and quietly he hummed in amusement at the others manner in which he bartered for. So the creature liked music, who didn't, he could understand the allure depending on the type that was being played.

"I can guess you'll never receive an answer, they don't seem to be a conversationalist in the least. It's your choice to barter though and I leave that in your more than likely capable hands. It must be pretty good music though, to sway a spirit." Dorian murmured as he pushed back his sleeves a little more from his robes, rolling them up even though they were already dirtied. Moving to the side so the other could sit down next to him, he sat on his legs, kneeling and looked around with a small huff of breath, pointing to each plant as he named it. "Milk thistle to treat poising, ginseng for immunity, comfrey takes care of burns, sage is good for infections, lemon balm if you get a nasty bite from a Cricket--"

There was a small smirk.

"--pot marigold helps with the eyes, and if you need me to explain aloe vera you're hopeless."

Edited 2016-07-01 19:49 (UTC)

This particular spirit isn't one of the dead, instead it's a spirit of ... the spirit and magic. Perhaps more in the line of fairies than anything else, but not quite there. Which is just as dangerous but a different sort of danger than necromancy. Even little ones.

Absently he hummed a harmony when Dorian hummed, almost out of habit.

"No, the little ones aren't that great of a conversationalist. And the one person I know who really knows spirits is completely unhelpful in the matter," he said, sitting down next to Dorian, not at all worried about the state of his clothes. His jeans were well worn and long used to hard use.

A snort at the cricket comment. "I've not met many crickets that bite besides myself." That was followed by a bit of a smirk. "And those are familiar to me. My sister-in-law is a doctor and she favors using natural remedies as well as modern medicines. Though I've never actually helped her out in her garden. Are you a doctor as well?"

To him, a sprit is a spirit as he is a mage the uses magic but it does not matter, the idea is still something all encompassing; a creature formed from magic to stand against those who raise them. When the other hums with him, Dorian cannot help but chuckle, the tone low in his chest, quiet but just loud enough to be obvious as he reaches for a trowel and offers it to the other, having used his hands for most of it. Getting closer to the earth perhaps, dirty work was not really his favoured idea of keeping ones hands busy but it helped and he could meticulous clean them later, it was a winning situation either way.

"An unhelpful acquaintance, if you gave me a coin for every time I came across a man like that I'd be wealthier than my father." The other sits down and he notes his state of dress for a moment before pulling one of the plants towards him from the small grouping he had created earlier, many still within their plastic homes, ready to be reconnected with the ground as they should be. The cricket comment amuses him though and he grins, giving a small shake of his head. "You're a smart one, you are."

Another sarcastic comment, a jest but as he pulls out the next plant, he offers it to the other, pointing to the hole that is closest to him, a good spacing away. "A doctor? No, not in the least. I am no healer, only a few spells here and there but where I come from we rely heavily on plants for more than just cooking. I had to read about these though, I can't say I've seen any elfroot here and nor do I expect to."

A small beat then; "So, you have a family then?"

Not so much for Cricket. Oh, there are spirits and they're capricious lot, but they have their different types and temperaments. Cricket has a pleasant and calming tenor. At least currently. When he wants he can totally change it as any good musician can.

Taking the trowel, he started digging a small hole for a plant.

"The biggest problem with him is that he's one of those people that's so charismatic that he can get you to do something you know deep down in your bones is a terrible idea but somehow seems like a good idea when he presents it." Every time Rhys shows up, Cricket promises himself that he wasn't going to go along with him... and then he ends up in a swamp somewhere getting bitten by midges looking for some... thing.

"I'm no fool. Now midges on the other hand, I would believe you," he said, "And that's better than I. I've never had a hand for healing beyond bandaids and handing over aspirin."

He dug another little hole. "I do. I have an older brother and a nephew as well as my parents."

As they gardened, Dorian listen to the man speak about these small facts of his life, eyes cast downward on the dirt, reaching for the hole that was completed and leaning over, closer to the other, placing it in the carved out space and took the soil with his hands, smoothing it back down to place within the crevices and pack it tightly, rooting the foliage back into the earth, his fingers sliding over, pushing and pulling to create the habitat.

"Then charismatic is not the word I would use for him, manipulative is likely what you are looking for." Comes the mages reply as he lifts his head to look at the man from his bent over position, covering the plant within it's new, natural housing. The words are simple, bluntly stated, but Dorian rarely is the man to hold back. "I assume bandaids are close to bandages but I'll fail you at grasping what aspirin is, something otherworldly I am guessing, new, or modern." After all he had seen many things here that he had never before seen in his life, medication was something he heard of, only in passing.

"Lucky you, a brother to lovingly torment you, a nephew to watch after when the parents are away and your very own two parents to do whatever it is families do in your realm. Should I assume it's a loving unit that you sow you're dependence in?"

A mirthless bark of laughter escaped Cricket, he didn't mind the bluntness. In fact he tended to be blunt at times - when it was called for. "Yes, that is another word for him. Bastard is another. I have an entire list of things I call him. That being said he does have his good points." Like being good in the sack.

"Ah... aspirin is made from willow bark...?" Well, probably not made from it, but close enough. He figured that Dorian would at least know what that was. Hopefully. "It's been around for a while, but I couldn't tell you for how long."

Medication was pretty much the same for him. It never interested him; music was his life in some ways.

"I'm actually on tour more often than not so I don't see my family very often," he said, though he didn't sound too mournful about it. His older brother didn't torment him, but was a bit dull. The nephew was going to be in serious trouble soon and he probably should go back to check on him. Some spirits had taken a bit too much of a liking to him. As for his parents? They were his parents.

"What about you? Family?"

The laughter was nice to hear, it seemed like it had been awhile since he heard it even if that was not true. Since the calm after the storm, things seemed so normal, almost quaint with battles to be had here and there. This though, it was another type of torture, living in a small home, on his own, with only the sight of a few familiar faces yet men like Cricket seemed to make it better; the more outgoing type, not afraid to strike up a conversation with a stranger. So far so good, he was happy for his company. Still, as the other speaks, he continues his motions of planting, finishing off what he was working with and waiting for the man to dig the next hole patiently, running the dirt between his fingers.

"I'm not too concerned, I don't plan on taking it any time soon." He was a man of his means, and would rather make his own medication than depend on something too new, not knowing the side effects of not taking something for his entire life then suddenly deciding to; it could interfere with his own magical abilities, something he was not willing to risk. "So you are a musician, you travel around performing your art--a bard would you say? Bards don't have time for a life at home, I suppose though it's fine all the same."

When the other asks about his family though he looks up and smiles at him, kindly enough before reaching out to take the other mans hand that was holding the trowel and positioning it to the next spot, humour in his voice.

"I'd rather not broach the subject, I normally save such talk for something much further along; say the fifth date at least."

At least he has familiar faces from home. So far Cricket has seen only himself and, well, Aisling. The tiny spirit, however, wasn't that great of a companion when it came to human companionship. It couldn't talk, go drinking, argue, complain - all the necessary things that a man needed to stay sane. Being a public performer he'd learned to be out going and talk to people out of a mater of defense. People would talk to him anyway - if only for autographs.

"Sadly, life rarely does what you plan for it to do." If it did, would they be here? Unlikely. It's certainly not what he planned on doing. He planned on heading back to Cardiff and checking in on his nephew. "I am a bard, yes." A normal traveling musician but also a bard - he had some magic at his disposal as the spirit testified. But perhaps to Dorian it just meant a traveling musician.

He did at least look a tiny bit sheepish when his hand got moved and muttered an apology. Sometimes he got too involved in talking that he forgot what he was doing. Still, he started digging more holes.

"That sort of family." He raised his eyebrows, amused. "If you're waiting for the fifth date they must be quite the story. How much alcohol is involved telling their tale?" He's not opposed to going out on a date though it's been a while for him.

A suffering he thought he would feel upon his arrival but the world had proved him delightfully wrong. Still, companionship came in many forms and Dorian was nothing but a social butterfly, always keen on meeting and speaking to new people, seeing where things would lead and as it stood right now, it was left at the mage taking the others hand and giving a small squeeze at his bashful expression before pulling away and taking up his own digging alongside the other, a distance away, enough for the plants to bloom, to grow, much like relationships would do on their own with time. It was rather amusing though, seeing the previous rather confident individual become sheepish and he would place it away in his bank of memories for a quip to be summoned later.

"That is essentially true though highly unfortunate, it's rather painful to even consider." A joke, a small murmur of humour and he looked over to the other. A bard to him was nothing magical, they travel and could sing, state poems and perform other arts normally found in taverns or on the roads for a weary traveller yet the comfort they could bring in song was magic in its own right. "A bard with a spirit comrade, is it? You know my next question is going to be what your craft of choice is so you might as well as own up to it; a singer, or a dancer, perhaps a bit of both."

Teasing at this point, he utters a small chuckle at the comment and well, a date is never a bad thing to say no too and here they where, hands deep in soil discussing it, it made Dorian smile and shake his head in a fond manner.

"If I was to have a guess I would say at least two bottles of wine before moving onto something stronger." He uttered, looking towards Cricket with an arch of his brow. "Do you plan to wine and dine me to get the story out, hm? I can assure you it's quite lengthy and not worth your time."

Dorian is a very man in that respect. Sadly, it would take an extreme series of unlikely circumstances to get someone from Cricket's world here.

As for the embarrassed moment, he dislikes getting distracted enough from his task that he forgets what he's doing. It's something he likes to think is beneath him; he's a performer after all. But engaging conversation is engaging conversation. The squeeze earns a bit of an eyeroll, but a gentle one.

"Dance? No. I can't dance worth to save my life. I'm a singer, song writer, storyteller and guitar player - though I do play a few other instruments."

"Two bottles?" Now he got an almost wolfish grin the sort that came with a challenge laid out before him. "I've always found that the harder it is to get a story out of someone, the more interesting it is. There must be some reason why they hide it. And as a storyteller any story is worth my time."

The other rolls his eyes, and Dorian grins in return, the curve of his lips playful and that small laugh surfacing again like the bubble on the surface of a lake. It's a warm sound and he exhales, keeping his hands within the soil as he pushes aside more, making room for the next plant to be buried within. Hands dirty, he reached for the sage and removed it from its temporary plot, gently with careful pulls and tugs from the stem, releasing it and placing it within the ground. Everyone was allowed to get distracted every now and then, it was a common for humans to do so when something took interest and so therefor, it really wasn't a problem.

"Quite a repertoire you have there." His voice replied, eyes cast downward on his work, speaking and doing, it was something he took on easily as Dorian rather enjoyed talking, a little too much. He smirks though, the motion soft. "Singing, writing, telling stories and playing an instrument yet the man doesn't dance, now that is a shame. Still, you'll have to sing for me sometime, that way I can appropriately judge you."

Still, when he moves on the speak about the potential of his own story, Dorian pauses and looks up towards the other, searching his face very carefully, amusement washed in with a tone of lingering seriousness as his background was not exactly the point of a story and never would be, more a nightmare if anything, something that would not be worth telling, only to gain him sympathy and if anything, Dorian took care of things on his own, in his own quiet manner. Still, the grin of the other has him smirking all the same and it's his turn to roll his eyes, sitting up straight and folding his hands in his lap idly.

"Two bottles and maybe more, I do enjoy playing hard to get." The mage spoke evenly, laughing softly once more. "Though I assure you, interesting is not the word I would use in reference to my story, my background at least. The tale gets better as you move on, but it's not worth a repeat."

It's a nice grin. There's also something nice about digging in the dirt; there's no expectations and it's not terribly difficult. Mindlessly repetitive. He dug a few more holes with neat precision as Aisling drifted down from his hair to give its opinion on where he should dig them.

"They all sort of mix, really. I enjoy songs that tell tales and adventures as opposed to songs about how much this girl or guy is really good looking and I want to keep them in my life forever or how much my heart is broken because this guy or girl I thought I loved just dumped me." The trowel stabbed at the dirt absently, perhaps with a bit more force than necessary, "They're shallow and unimaginative. That being said I do sing them. I'm not stupid enough to throw away something that will pay for my dinner."

A bit more dirt is tossed over. "But I wouldn't mind singing for you. I enjoy doing that."

His expression is one of intense curiosity, the sort that would get cats killed, but he wouldn't press it if asked not to. A good story isn't worth breaking up a relationship over, new or not. And if you're patient then the story might be told to you anyway.

"I have no idea if there is any good wine here, but I will find some." He tilted his head and then brushed some hair out of his eyes, getting a smudge of dirt on his face. "Interesting is a matter of opinion. If what you say is true, then I will happily change my description of it. But until I know, I will have to withhold judgement."

Listening to the other speak, he watches him dig for a moment, watching the precision of the spirt assisting him and smiles fondly. At least it seems to be wise in the way of foliage, he would have to think of a way to thank them both later; though what can you give a spirit, that is the question. Working on a few other plants, he downcasts his eyes once more and continues to enjoy the explanations of the other, never really having had the opportunity to sit down with a bard and speak about their life, as much as Dorian enjoys talking about himself. So he sings the basic songs then, they seem inane and the other mentions its apart of his livelihood he suppose he understands but Dorian is a man who left his expectations behind him. Still, those in the taverns could be rather particular about the songs being played so he could see the point.

"Well, here's a challenge for you then. When you do sing for me, someday hopefully in the near future, sing what you want instead of what is expected of you. After all, I can't be expected to be entertained by something shallow."

Dorian dropped his voice to match the others tone when he had spoke of it before and continued to grin to himself while he placed a plant once more into the ground, reaching over to pick up a few of the pots and move them in the middle so that Cricket could begin burying his own, with the held of his friend of course. Still, the man is curious, it's obvious in his face and Dorian looks up to meet his eye and murmurs his reply with a lidded expression as he looks to the dirt on his face.

"You'll be withholding judgement for awhile I'm afraid. After all, I've had enough to poorly brewed drinks, don't think I will make it easy for you." Reaching up with his own dirtied hand, Dorian smears another line of soil to match the side of the others face with a playful smirk. "I rarely do."

This particular spirit enjoys music which is why it follows and bonded with Cricket. But it's also a curious one and one of magic, so it's possible if Dorian showed it some interesting magic it'll be happy.

Taverns or, you know, fans, agents, record companies, producers... they all have their opinion on the matter. And he doesn't mind singing them occasionally. The ones that have good melodies and are interesting to play are all right. The Beatles are fun. And of course he's done a few covers. It's practically required. The ones that are just. so. pedestrian he could scream... he doesn't like playing. But one must sing for thy butter and bread... and the award.

"That my good sir, is hardly a challenge." He's teasingly disappointed. "If you wanted to give me a challenge you'd have to bribe me with something good to get me to sing the worst song I know. And it'd have to be better than some bottles of wine."

One of the plants is taken and put in the hole the mock disappointed look growing. "Another challenge then." When the dirt is applied to his face he swatted the hand away.

Before applying his thumb to Dorian's forehead.

Far from musical, Dorian never really sung in public, only hummed to himself every now and then, he was no talent in that field but he was forced to learn various instruments when he was younger; not that he had picked them up in years. Still, if the creature liked magic that much he could provide; it was his given talent after all. Dorian enjoyed watching the spirit though, interested in how they stayed like that, where they where in this realm--it was different, spirits lingered but completely different and they certainly did not enjoy helping all that much, they normally had selfish means for still clinging to the last grasps of hope and life. Dorian was still as he listened to the other speak about challenges and could not help but offer a warm laugh at the idea.

"Oh, so he likes to be spoiled in his challenges does he? Maybe I will have to find something to tempt you with--" And when the other swayed his hand away and then smeared his thumb to his own forehead, Dorian shook his head away from his grasp, wrinkling his nose. The smell of wet soil was refreshing, but not so close to his nose, not particularly on his face. "Now that was completely and utterly disrespectful, I had a purpose in my actions but that was callous revenge!"

Trying to keep a straight face, the corner of his mouth turned ever so slightly, showing that he was not entirely serious.

"I think you owe me an apology."

Maybe Cricket could get him to sing some, or at least help with it at some point in the future. He doesn't mind teaching - he's taught his nephew some. The boy doesn't have a lick of talent but he tries and has managed to be decent. No one will run away screaming if he decides to play (singing on the other hand... not even the spirits can help him with that one.)

"What's the point of a challenge if it doesn't challenge you? Isn't that the point of a challenge?" He grinned, utterly unapologetic. "I owe you an apology? What purpose could you have had in smearing dirt on my face? I think you owe me one before I give you one."

It would be a shot in the dark, but likely more than just a few glasses of wine would have to be involved, Dorian did not do so well in the public eye such as that. Speaking about himself, absolutely, praising his own talents in the realm of magics and theory, his physical attributes; there was no question there but small items that he might had dabbled in, he rarely mentioned if they were not viewed perfection in his eyes and besides humming was much different than actually singing, still; he's always around to learn something new when the time is right.

"Oh I absolutely agree, I just need to think hard about how to spoil you, we've only just met after all, it will be the challenge to find out. That is if I decided to pursue it." His voice jests against the others, still wry and playful as he shoots the other an incredulous look before taking the clean side of his palm, trying to get the dirt off. "You do! I was only assisting the dirt that was already all over your face, barbarian, attempting to give you an asymmetrical design to the pattern you placed there and if anything I was doing you a favour. You'll have to pry an apology out of my cold, dead fingers my good sir."

Grinning, Dorian looked to the other with a mischievous look.

Almost anyone can be coaxed to sing after a few glasses of wine, especially if it's good wine. However it's not something Cricket would pursue until much later. It's not something you just spring on a person you just met or even after the first date or so... if there was to be one.

"Is it a challenge you're interested in, though? Or should I take my talents elsewhere?" At being called a barbarian an absolutely offended look (spoiled by the amusement in the eyes) crossed Cricket's face. "I am no barbarian! I'm a cultured man of the city and a musician."

The trowel got a thoughtful glance. "But if I must kill you to get an apology, then that is what I'll do. I've seen quite a few shows where this is an excellent weapon. The garden is also freshly overturned so I won't have problems hiding the body either."

The other claims his cultured nature and Dorian drops his hand, placing them both on his knees, laughing softly at the others reaction, enjoying his ability to play along. Yet suddenly things take a little bit of a drastic turn and his chuckle wilts before he gives the other quite the look, his brows furrowing as he listens to the rather intent description and reference to his plants. There is a long pause, Dorian holds it longer than needed because it might all be a joke, a man with a good sense of humour but it came all out of left field. Keeping his eyes on the other man a hum catches his throat in thought, flattening out his gaze and pursing his lips before he inhales and begins to speak, leaning forward, his hands pressed on his knees, shoulders straight.

Amusing crossed between unamused but highly disturbing.

"A cultured man would never bury a man in his own garden, you'd ruin the plants. If you are who you say you are then use your creativity better than that." Deadpan was his voice before he leaned back and gave the other one more glance before taking his finger, touching the tip of the trowel gently and allowing to exert the smallest amount of mana along the handle, frost catching on it. "Come on, Tal. You wouldn't lay a hand on me, would you?"

Edited 2016-07-04 02:39 (UTC)

It was a joke. Perhaps a tasteless one that shouldn't be offered when has just met another person. One that should have waited until he's gotten the measure of the man's sense of humor before him. If he could blame someone other than himself he would.

He sat back on his own heels, hands on his knees. "You're right. I think there's a gully near."

Any sort of joking manner dropped from his expression when the trowel blade began to frost over. He didn't even notice the use of 'Tal' instead of 'Cricket'. Aisling, who had been poking at some of the plants zipped right to the blade to hover over it, the carefully approaching it as if the magic was some possibly wild animal.

"That depends, do you want my hands on you?" he said absently still watching the frost.

The other jokes again but then what he says at the end has Dorian pausing, looking from the ice that grows on the handle of the tool and slowly up at the other. Dorian was not always a very nice man, he could be rather blunt and he's used to one night stands, as they were. Relationships had never been what he was able to have, the closeness of them, the offer of what life could be with something steady and unyielding but he swallows, the smallest tinge of pink showing upon his cheekbones as he looks at the other quietly, the silence standing between them at his rather forward comment. He could be brave, he could ignore it, he could pretend it wasn't something he wanted to hear and throw it away as a mistake but instead after searching the others face even though it was cast downward, he too looked back at the frost.

The small crystals travelled from his touch along the handle then onto the metal, brushing only ever so slightly against the others flesh, not enough to freeze or burn, he was not putting enough into it, only a brush of cold and Dorian draws his grin back upon his lips when he notes the attention of the spirit as well.

"Maybe the question is, do you want to put your hands on me."

Came a whisper of a comment, teasing, quiet as he urged the soft spell onward, watching the frost grow into crystals on the metal part of the trowel.

Edited 2016-07-04 20:08 (UTC)

The big problem is with this place is how small it was. A one night stand could get awkward. They're easier to do when you're going to be leaving in the morning. Relationships were never anything he allowed himself to have - except for that one friend, but that was more like friends with benefits than anything else.

Things held in a quiet balance, go forward and face possibilities and consequences or pull away keeping it as a joke. As the frost touched him he shivered slightly, resisting the urge to pull the hand away or shake it out.

Did he want to put his hands on him?

Very carefully, ready for Dorian to pull away, he brushed the back of his fingers on the other man's cheek. "I think so. Yeah."

There is little knowledge to this place, he only arrived a little while ago, only explored to his means, researching what he could close the home he was given. He was prone to wandering but right how he had his garden, he had this moment, this strange, odd moment that he never would expect and in his mind he can only think that it will be another passing affair, what he was used to wherever it went but they've already gone this far, he would not be so much a coward to back down yet could move with careful steps; affair or no, he had to protect himself as well for his walls where hard to break. In that quiet moment in the space between, his heart drummed within his chest, certain that if any louder it would be audible; to himself right now maybe, and possibly the spirit.

The finger on the trowel curved ever so slightly, the ice spread further along it, the crystals growing slightly as the quick beating of his heart made his blood rush. The other spoke and the sensation of his finger touching the side of his face brought Dorian's gaze forward to meet his own, his free hand shifted, pushing along the soil towards the kneeling bend of his knee, his knuckles curving and pressing every so slightly against the side of the joint. He didn't pull away, not even for a hesitant second.

"Well." Dorian murmured, his voice quiet, leaning ever so slightly into the touch, subtle, his eyes searching the mans face, a fond and small smirk upon his lips. "This escalated quickly."

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