Enzo had always been freer with touch; the embrace was not a surprise. Tiberius returned it with a grin, the blended scents of his ex lover’s shaving bar and hair oil more achingly familiar than anything else there. Ruined as Enzo pulled away, something haunted in his eyes. They’d always been more careful than this, but surely they were beyond fear of discovery by now? The way the Tilanis were living, supposedly inseparable, two women together in higher society than this.
Unless that wasn’t what this was at all. They had not, exactly, parted on easy terms. For the first time, Tiberius had been the one to go away, chasing someone else’s idea of duty. He slipped back into somber neutrality, letting Enzo steer him to the stairs. Remembering every time it had been the other way. Enzo leaving, to war or to his own doomed marriage, over before any vows were said.
“The roads were dangerous. Darkspawn in Orlais, undead in Nevarra. Miss Nicollier is resting at home.” Perhaps she was – or perhaps she’d sneak out. He could only hope that she had the good sense to avoid getting caught. Whatever else he was in that woman’s mind, he would not be her jailer too. Tiberius followed Enzo into the box, feeling slight pressure in his ears as the old spellwork within came to life. Privacy spells – that your conversation might not disturb other guests. Only the High Houses – and apparently, those that had once been among their number – had so much privilege.
Tiberius simply stood and watched his friend, back to a heavy curtain, gaze eventually fixed on that gold neckcloth. Parts of his mind that had been dormant for some time began to turn slowly, inventing games to play with that. His mouth went dry and he shook off the fancy like a bad dream, marching to the front of the box and taking a seat by the rail. His status would have afforded him a good seat, near the stage.
This was better. Imagine being seated next to Lucillius all night.
“For whatever it's worth, Enzo, I am sorry. I never meant to be gone so long.”
Unless that wasn’t what this was at all. They had not, exactly, parted on easy terms. For the first time, Tiberius had been the one to go away, chasing someone else’s idea of duty. He slipped back into somber neutrality, letting Enzo steer him to the stairs. Remembering every time it had been the other way. Enzo leaving, to war or to his own doomed marriage, over before any vows were said.
“The roads were dangerous. Darkspawn in Orlais, undead in Nevarra. Miss Nicollier is resting at home.” Perhaps she was – or perhaps she’d sneak out. He could only hope that she had the good sense to avoid getting caught. Whatever else he was in that woman’s mind, he would not be her jailer too. Tiberius followed Enzo into the box, feeling slight pressure in his ears as the old spellwork within came to life. Privacy spells – that your conversation might not disturb other guests. Only the High Houses – and apparently, those that had once been among their number – had so much privilege.
Tiberius simply stood and watched his friend, back to a heavy curtain, gaze eventually fixed on that gold neckcloth. Parts of his mind that had been dormant for some time began to turn slowly, inventing games to play with that. His mouth went dry and he shook off the fancy like a bad dream, marching to the front of the box and taking a seat by the rail. His status would have afforded him a good seat, near the stage.
This was better. Imagine being seated next to Lucillius all night.
“For whatever it's worth, Enzo, I am sorry. I never meant to be gone so long.”
05-03-2024, 03:24 PM
