do something

Though he often asserted his opinion when it occured to him, it was rare for him to be as desperate for resolution as he was in this moment. There was no more ambiguity, another blight had settled throughout Thedas. It was now only a matter of time before it would consume their little slice of peace on the coast. Their goal to take to the sea was even more prudent now that they might soon be physically forced to do just that. An early exodus might yet be the wisest decision if only for the fact that it filled him with an immense guilt for who and what they would be leaving behind. 

It wasn't often he was so troubled and even less frequent that he allowed his outward expression to communicate as much, but nothing could in fact be more troubling than an impending blight. He could barely stomach the thought of losing all of this, let alone watching it happen knowing they might've done something about it. Brows knit, he approached the familiar abode, toeing open the door and clearing his throat to announce his arrival to his Keeper. 

We need to talk His eyes met the other with a woeful expression like he might fall apart at the seams if Chip didn't catch him.

Xochipilli's door was always open; especially to those he considered family, in some way. When his First entered, he was reading by candle-light, skimming words on old, water-damaged pages. If Cara managed to get a glance at it, he'd see that it was an old captain's log. There were maps with potential paths they might take to flee; scribbled mathematics indicating they'd need to leave some behind to stand a chance... The table was covered in paperwork, and he was tiredly thumbing through it all.

Chip's home was... simple. One room. He had not wanted anything grander than the rest of his clan had; though of course larger families had more space. His family being separate meant that Inala had the larger home, and their daughter resided with her mother.

But given how well they co-parented, well, it'd never really felt like a separate home.

He carefully closed the old ledger, studying the man in front of him. Come here, Cara. He shifted, pushing his chair from the desk until he was facing the other man. He'd stopped drinking, at his daughter's request with the help of a handful of people in the clan. Sober, and much more clear-headed, which was still quite odd. But he was more observant now.

He'd offer a hand out to Carasson, patiently studying him. What is on your mind? Give me some of that burden. He could guess, but he'd rather hear it out loud. See that they're on the same page. If Cara took his hand, he'd pull him forward, and then down for a hug, effectively rendering the other man in his lap.

It was burdens like these he minded the most. Burdens like these that made him begin to dread the day when he would assume the role of Keeper. Nevermind the fact that it would mean losing Chip in some compacity. It would be a bittersweet succession as all tended to be. But if he could use blight to distract from losing his deeply revered friend, he was almost feral to talk about it despite what his expression might communicate to the other. 

Hand threaded in the other far more calloused and capable, he allowed his body to drop into the embrace. Forehead dropped to shoulder, tangling in the wild salt formed locks. He returned the embrace tightly, remaining quiet until he felt himself able to speak. When he pulled back to allow conversation, he cleared his throat, quickly averting his troubled expression. We have to make a decision, Chip. And soon. they were far enough removed at the moment that they might feasibly go about their original plans but could Cara ask that of his conscience? It's not finished yet. Sooner or later I fear the darkspawn may find us if we don't ensure their destruction.

Chip slipped his arms around Carasson, hugging him, though not tight enough to keep him from moving back, when he found his voice. Is that what has you so troubled? He hummed, quietly. One arm still around his First, he shifted, reaching with the free hand to pull a map closer to them. Ignoring papers that scattered and were displaced.

The darkspawn are currently here, targeting our brethren in the forest. He tapped a finger on the map. And any that have gone ahead to find us, are swiftly dealt with. Chip sounded confident, but... underneath the confidence, he knew things weren't great.

If we walk, or we leave before we're ready, we will have to sacrifice people. Leave them behind and hope they make it. His voice was low, and he cleared his throat. I won't lose another clan, Cara. He murmured the words, reaching to turn the other man's face, until he could look him in the eyes once more. Tell me how we might ensure these creatures are destroyed before they reach us? His eyes had narrowed, slightly.

And after a moment of silence, Xochipilli spoke again: Tell me in a way, that does not involve sending our people to the Brecilian. It was not often that Chip was so solemn, so poised. He was typically cheery, happy-go-lucky, especially when the anniversary of his home-clans destruction was far behind him.

It was a necessary conversation however undesirable it was to have. Eventually they would need to have a frank discussion about their options and apparently that time was now. He sighed, slumping further against the broad chest of the other, twisting ever so slightly to note the map. He knew the rumors well as Chip but he wouldn't stop the visual he seemed to think he needed to prove his point. He nodded solemnly, pulling his lips into a thin line. I know the rumors coming out of The Forest. Just as well as he knew what happened to the roaming bands of darkspawn that crept towards the coast. I'm not suggesting we go anywhere Xochipilli. He made sure the use of his full name was noted and felt by his returned expression. 

What I'm suggesting... He started to wring his hands, avoiding eye contact again amid his racing heart hammering inside his chest. Is that you send me and a small contingent of our choosing. Of volunteers. Because he wouldn't take anyone who felt like they were ordered to risk their lives. Nothing has felt right to me in months and it's only gotten worse....even after the Wardens quelled the largest uprisings. I cannot allow this to continue without some kind of interference. What he wouldn't say, at this in that particular moment was that something sang in his blood, something spoke to him in dark, dulcet tones to make this his problem. He needed to step into it and see the carnage for himself. 

He shook his head, chin dropping until to his chest. Send me and you won't have to lose another clan.

Chip shook his head, before the other man could even get the words out. The moment his full name had left Carasson's lips, he knew he wasn't going to like it. Cara rang his hands, avoided eye contact, and spoke his piece. Inala had said something similar; that perhaps they should let those who wanted, join the Grey Wardens. He had not liked the idea of sending his people into a mission that might end with their deaths. He'd seen enough loss in his lifetime.

Xochipilli had said no.

Had made it clear he'd turn the wardens away. And here Carasson, his First, an extension of his role within the clan, wanted to go. He spoke with conviction, as if something compelled him to go, but that conviction did nothing to ease the tightness of the Keeper's chest, as he warred with what was right for him versus what was right for the whole of the clan. These thoughts soon led him down the rabbit hole of how he felt about Carasson. 

He hadn't cared when Cara and Inala had gotten together. He'd certainly not stopped pining, but he'd had no animosity towards his clan-mates. Their lives did not revolve around him; but his life revolved around the safety of this clan. 

He was quiet, too quiet. And with another shake of his head, he released the other from his embrace, arms crossing over his chest. And then he turned back to the book that he'd originally been thumbing through, ignoring the other man, though he had yet to shove him away.

He'd feared a reaction like this, knew that it was a distinct possibility given what he knew of his Keeper. That didn't mean, however, that he was subsequently equipped to field said reaction. He studied the man before him, feeling the wall rise between them in those stilted moments after he'd said what he'd come to say. Little surprise when he was force from the embrace, but it did little to ease the pain he felt being ousted as he was. Chip was shutting him out and that simply would not do, not for this. Not anymore. 

Cara rubbed a hand down his face in exasperation, preparing himself for a rebuttal to the silent response. It wouldn't be the first time he'd convinced Chip of something controversal, but they were in fact few and far between and Cara had never asked him something of this magnitude. It stood to reason that he might bristle against this just as he might were their roles switched. His eyes fluttered shut in his contemplation, a withered sigh slipping from his diaphragm before he finally snapped back to attention, determination renewed. 

He stepped around the side of the desk, positioning himself to face the other with conviction, his stance tall and as wide as he could manage. He splayed a hand along the spine of the book effectively hindering half of his readable area. Don't do this, Chip. Don't you fucking do this. He said calmly trying his best to keep the utter deserpation from coloring his plea too deeply. You know as well as I do that the Warden's don't idly ask for help and that when they do it's because they have little choice. This call must be answered. He trailed off, ducking his head so as to catch the larger man's eyes he'd been trying to avoid mere moments earlier. 

I'll go by myself if that's what you're balking at. There was a line of succession under him and should they need it, his spot would be filled. I don't like this, Chip. I hate it. But I need this, just as I need you to understand. He placed a hand over his own heart. I cannot continue to ignore it. In a way he wished that Chip would never falter in convinving him to stay but damnit....he wanted to, he truly did. He wanted a life with Inala, with Chip, with the clan. He wanted a family. But some undeniable part of his sould needed this for sustenance else it might wither.

Chip exhaled quietly, as a hand splayed across his book, forcing his gaze to find Carasson once more. He snapped the book shut and dropped it on the table, uncaring if he managed to catch Cara's hand in the pages. Do you... really think that if you take volunteers, Inala would stay behind? His head tilted slightly, eyes searching the other man's features. She's already suggested something similar; sending the volunteers to the Grey Wardens. She wanted to go.

He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slowly. And if Inala goes, then Chi will follow. She looks up to her mother, idolizes her. And unfortunately, she was old enough to make her own decisions. He rubbed his face with his hands, sighing as he leaned forward, staring into the darkness that his hands created around his face. If you go alone, he'd sat back up. ...then I'm left to pick up the pieces, if you die? To pick up Inala, and put her back together? I'm pretty bad at that.

Chip was bitter, and glared at his First. Leave me to train another to be my First? He fumed quietly, staring at Carasson, considering his options. And finally, he stood. He made his way to a small table, that had once been littered with empty alcohol bottles, now held a tea set. Everyone had vices. He brought the teapot to a boil in his hand, poured two cups, and brought them both back to the table, holding Cara's cup in his hand. If you go with a group, or alone, I still lose. He murmured, quietly.

If you go in a group, and take my girls with you, then that's all three of the people in my family, gone. His voice shook slightly, as he held the tea out to his First. So no. Nobody is going to the Forest.

The reasoning was hard to circumvent without flying in the face of some very real and raw emotion. Mention of Inala was a given. She was here between them, along side them, even when she wasn't there. It was hard to begrudge Chip of his reasoning when he happened to be correct in all of his assertions. Inala would volunteer and Chi would follow. They both knew as much, hesistant as they  were to entertain the thought. Cara  remembered when Inala spoke to him of going to Chip about her thoughts after she told him about the Warden's request to which he'd said little in return still unsure about how he truly felt abouit it all. 

Since then he'd come to some grim realizations. 

Namely that even if he did go like he wanted, nothing would ever truly be fixed. The Blight was forever, no mattered how many years of peace they enjoyed. So maybe Chip did have a point in his obstinate refusal but there was no denying the pull Cara felt to do exactly the opposite. 

He hated himself for this, for even asking. 

As Chip listed out the repercussions, Carasson listened on in a solemn silence only moving to take the cup of tea when it was offered. He understood the pain Chip would feel because it was a pain he himself felt now, in this moment, knowing what he would force his family to endure should he leave. But you won't lose your clan. He mumbled in return, immediately regretting it as soon as it passed his lips. 

He huffed, letting silence settle in again. And if I go without your blessing? he knew what it would mean. It would mean the destruction of everything between them. Chip, He started, pushing off from the desk and leaving the tea behind in favor of approaching the man again and resting both hands on his monstrous shoulders. I love you. Because there was little denying that. He would die for his Keeper. But can you think of any way we might both find peace in this? Because I've tried. If you will it, I will stay with you. I will obey. He swallowed hard. But what will happen when we are the ones that need help? Who will come?

Chip stared, when Cara asked what would happen if he left without his blessing. He swallowed hard, shaking his head. You won't be welcomed back. It wasn't true; nothing but death could keep Xochipilli from accepting Carasson back into the fold of their clan. But the threat was idle, it felt right. Even if it was a lie.

Then, Cara was in front of him, hands on his shoulders. And he was quiet, considering his actions. Some small part of him was thrilled with their closeness, enticed by the other man's scent, the feel of his hands— but the majority of him ignored those very distracting feelings in favor of anger. But when he spoke, there was no anger left in his voice. There's a Keeper, a First, and a Second, because the burdens of the clan need to fall upon more than just one person.

Another moment of warring with himself on the matter of kiss or not before he spoke. Stay, for now? If it gets worse, if it reaches the Lake Calenhad, and we are not gone, then we'll fight with the shem. Xochipilli reached to run his fingers through Cara's hair, absently. He'd let himself show that much affection, he could see where Cara was coming from (well, partially, there's no shard driving Chip into dangerous situations). As for being at peace... peace is pretty overrated. But perhaps we can send some scouts. They can gather the elves that escaped, we can hear a first-hand account. Without risking anyone.

His throat bobbed at the finality of his tone. Was it true? More importantly did he really want to call that bluff and risk being wrong? And is this not a burden? He muttered almost under his breath but loud enough for Chip to hear. Maybe it was more a burden for his conscience than the clan's. Maybe he simply wasn't thinking clearly. Maybe he was so far off base that he'd lost track of fundamental ideals. Clan first. Family first. That was his duty. 

But why did Chip's solution feel like such a cop out? Why did he bristle inwardly against the suggestion? Not if, Chip. When. When it reaches Lake Calenhad, it will be too late. You would rather sit and wait to be snuck up on than ride out to meet it? Something rose inside of him, finally rearing a nastier side of his personality that he did not predict. It was not the Carasson Chip might know who spoke next despite the delirium he wanted so much to revel in at the other man's touch. Overrated..... says the man who was too fucking deep in his cups to remember what inaction breeds. He bit it out, inwardly reeling at his own words but still bursting forward. His face flushed a deep rouge. 

You won't risk anyone, but you'll risk scouts? And what happens when they don't come back? If we use that reasoning Xochipilli, send me as a scout so you can rest easy. The second time he'd used the other's full name, weilding it like a weapon.

The Keeper was frustrated, and it showed in the way his hands trembled, with each breath he took. He doesn't respond to the questions, but when Carasson calls him out for being a drunk, he snapped. His First was right there, and it didn't take much for him to straighten to his full height.

He pushed the other man into, probably onto, the table. Ignored the cups of tea as they fell to the floor, spilling, metal clanging. Porcelain just didn't make sense out here on the coast, after all. Do you know how badly I want a drink right now? His words were murmured, as he leaned, mere inches from the others face.

I'd love to be so deep in my cups that I don't know who I am, or what's going on around me. The words were snarled, his fingers curling around the other's wrists. Likely leaving marks; though they'd fade in a few hours.

Xochipilli glared, brown eyes searching Carasson's features, debating with himself. Back and forth, back and forth. And then, as if this move would convey every bit of anger, he leaned down for a kiss. The kind of kiss that was rough enough to leave both parties breathless.

And as he pulled away, fingers still pressed firmly against Cara's wrists, he shook his head. I'm a selfish man, don't you know that? He wouldn't let Cara walk away without a fight. He's quiet, face flushed from both anger and the kiss. And then, Then no-one goes. The words are firmly spoken. We continue with our plan, building and preparing for sea. Or we can start sending Teagan with groups, to Arlathan. It's hidden. Rumors said Arlathan was protected, but he wasn't so certain.

Frustration seemed to be a shared sentiment in this moment but with different motivations to each case. All the while a common thread of tension flowed throughout coloring each words they spoke to each other. It was a low blow to bring up the drinking know what chords it would strike within his Keeper. It was exactly what that forbidden part of him wanted after all, morbid, undying chaos. A chaos that utterly relished his unsuspected frame being slammed with ease into the table behind him. His lips peeled back to reveal his teeth, a hiss escaping that conveyed more than just anger but shock and.....something else he hadn't expected he might feel in a moment like this. 

I do actually. About as much as I want to see this through. He challenged with his gaze letting that permeate between them. That glare wasn't a man either of them knew, not right now. He was so immersed in the swell inside of him that even the fevered kiss pressed to his lips did little to deter that urge to continue. Except that he found himself pressing back hard in response, hungry for more in that fleeting moment. It was a duality twining inside of him, swirling madly and he was desperate to stop it. 

You might as well be drunk being that you can't seem to grasp what's happening now, right under your nose. This is bigger than the clan. Those words were poison, dripping with hideous vitriol as he seethed under his Keeper's touch. He tested the grip around his wrists, pulling halfheartedly against the vice clamp. But you're right, we can indeed agree on that front. You're selfish. In the wake of his words however instead of puffing further, he began to wither, almost deflating against. There and gone as quickly as it appeared. He heaved a shattered sounding sigh. 

Make this right. He pleaded, not really knowing what he was asking of his dearest friend.

Chip growled under his breath, The clan comes before everything else, you know this. But, as the man deflated against him, he shifted to embrace him. Gentler than his grip on his wrists had been.

I don't want to lose you. He murmured, And I don't want to lose her. Or Chi. His voice was soft, and he moved to sit back down, pulling Carasson quickly with him, once again, on his lap.

Fingers idly running along the other's back, as he stared at the spilled drink on the floor. What's going on with you, Cara? You're... not yourself. Not to say that Carasson wouldn't rally for this cause on his own; but something felt off.

Xochipilli reached to stroke the other's face. Tell me how to make it right, in a way that doesn't involve losing everything I hold dear. A quiet order, I cannot leave the clan. Which means, once you leave the coast, I cannot protect you. So I need a compromise.

He blinked through the haze that slowly left his eyes. He wanted so much to erase these last moments. That or to wake up from whatever nightmare he'd crawled into. Amid his surprising realization however, he could still feel that voracious need roiling inside of him, just beneath his modicum of self-control he now commanded. I.... he swallowed hard, feeling now a swell of shame for the poison he'd undoubtable spewed. It wasn't the first time this had happened to him but it was the first time he'd allowed so intimate a view of whatever duality now controlled him. If he didn't know better, he might admit to knowing full well what he'd unleased upon his Keeper by digging so deep into something he felt passion for. 

A violent passion, it turned out. 

Cara made to turn away under the weight of Chip's worried gaze but when he felt a surge of satisfaction rise inside of him, he stilled, willing himself to stay put and angled quite purposefully towards his reverred Keeper. A shiver erupted throughout, no doubt tingling against any point of contact the other man held onto him. It's....nothing. He hated himself for downplaying it, for denying something that was clearly isssue enough to drive a wedge between them like it had. 

In spite of all his current urges, he rose a  hand to the larger man's face, their eyes locking deeply. I'm with you Xochipilli. This time using the name with a soft, tender tone. And I will make this right....for us. I'm sorry. The last syllables came out as a whisper as he finally averted his gaze in what could only be construed as immense shame.