Alaric’s gaze flickered briefly to the belt and then back to Deyran, his eyebrow arching in playful acknowledgment. A small, wicked grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he let out a laugh, the sound rich and low.
Oh, I see how it is, he drawled, eyes never leaving Deyran as he rose with a practiced grace. Leaving little mementos behind, are we? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to make sure there’s a reason to return.
He gave Deyran a once-over, eyes lingering on the half-open shirt, the scars, and the easy confidence that poured off him in waves. It was a sight that could make anyone forget their own name, but Alaric’s smile held more than admiration—it held understanding, respect for the stories told in each mark and the bravado that hid the deeper wounds.
Alright then, hero, Alaric said, a hint of warmth beneath the teasing lilt of his voice. Lead the way. But just so you know, wherever we go, I fully expect to be entertained. And maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll share a story or two of my own. They don’t call me dramatic for nothing, after all.
With that, he strode toward the door, a mischievous challenge written across his face, ready to follow Deyran wherever this night might lead.
A genuine smile crept across his face, excitement stirring within him. How long had it been since he'd actually gone out with someone? Lately, life had been nothing but survival—kill or be killed—and he'd almost forgotten the simple joy of an afternoon out. Today, however, felt different. As the soft light from the window bathed the room in warmth, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of anticipation. Like the handsome man at his side, he had high hopes for the day, a rare indulgence for someone like him.
Deyran paused at the door, his hand resting lightly on the handle. With a quiet but deliberate motion, he gestured for Alaric to go first, a glimmer of respect and anticipation in his eyes. The outside revealed the bustling streets of Denerim just beyond, the noise of the market mingling with the scent of of it all.
Deyran led the way through the bustling streets of Denerim, his pace steady yet unhurried. The lively chatter of merchants, street performers, and travelers filled the air, creating a soundtrack to their walk. As they neared the Market District, the familiar scent of roasted meats and fresh bread grew stronger, mingling with the scent of the city’s stone and old wood. The Gnawed Noble loomed ahead, its wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze, promising warmth and the usual elegant atmosphere within.
Alaric followed Deyran’s lead, his stride easy and unhurried, but his sharp gaze took in every detail of the bustling streets of Denerim. The rich tapestry of life unfolded around them, and though he didn’t say it, he found the energy of the city oddly comforting. It was alive, humming with possibility—a perfect backdrop for the two of them.
Ah, Denerim, Alaric mused, his tone carrying an exaggerated air of nostalgia. Is there any city quite like it? Where else can you find this intoxicating blend of sweat, desperation, and overpriced ale? Truly, a gem among gems. He flashed a sly grin at Deyran, his expression equal parts amused and teasing.
As they approached the Gnawed Noble, Alaric slowed his pace slightly, letting Deyran take the lead. His gaze lingered for just a moment longer on the swinging sign before he turned his attention back to his companion. The soft golden light spilling from the windows cast a warm glow over Deyran, highlighting the strength in his frame and the playful glint in his eyes.
Well, this looks promising, Alaric remarked, his voice rich with approval. I have to say, you’ve got good taste. Not everyone can appreciate the finer things in life, like a sturdy table and a bartender who can pour a drink without spilling half of it.
He gestured grandly toward the entrance, stepping aside with a flourish to let Deyran enter first.
After you, my daring companion. Let’s see if this place lives up to its reputation—or if we’re about to create a new one.
As they stepped inside, the warmth of the tavern enveloped them, along with the familiar hum of conversation and the faint strains of a bard’s melody in the corner. Alaric let his gaze roam the room, assessing the crowd with a practiced ease. It was a lively scene—nobles rubbing shoulders with adventurers, merchants laughing over tankards of ale, and the occasional shadowy figure lurking near the back.
Deyran shook his head in amusement. His eyes gleamed with a mix of fondness and playful allure. Ah, sure... he began, his voice smooth and teasing, carrying just enough edge to stir something beneath the surface. But—it’s not just the city’s ‘finer things’ that make it memorable. It’s the people within it—the ones who know how to really enjoy what life has to offer.
He noticed Alaric’s subtle pause—the slight change in his body. Deyran lips curled into a small, knowing smile. He could feel Alaric’s attention lingering, and though he didn’t press, he allowed himself to savor the moment—a warmth he welcomed.
Deyran’s lips curled into a sly grin as he glanced at Alaric. Ah, but don’t sell yourself short, he quipped, his tone smooth and playful. After all, it takes an equally refined eye to notice when someone else has impeccable taste.
As they stepped closer, the soft, golden light spilling from the windows bathed Deyran’s figure in a warm, inviting glow, casting gentle shadows along his features. His frame appeared even more defined in the light, and the playful twinkle in his eyes seemed to spark faintly.
Deyran chuckled softly, the sound light and teasing. He gave a mock bow, his movements smooth and deliberate, before stepping inside. I suppose the real challenge lies in whether their bartender can keep up with the company tonight. Shall we test their mettle? he said, his voice low and inviting, laced with a hint of playful promise. With a confident smile, Deyran extended his hand for him to take, leaving the other resting casually on his back—subtly emphasizing his presence, as if daring anyone to overlook the fact that he was lucky enough to be here with him.
Alaric’s laughter followed Deyran’s words, rich and unrestrained, his sharp eyes dancing with delight at the playful audacity. He took the offered hand without hesitation, his fingers curling around Deyran’s in a gesture that managed to be both intimate and nonchalant. His voice was low, a velvet caress against the hum of the tavern.
Oh, darling, I’m not one to shy away from a challenge, he murmured, stepping in close enough for his shoulder to brush lightly against Deyran’s as they walked. Especially when the stakes involve proving that we’re the most dazzling pair to grace this establishment tonight.
As they approached the bar, Alaric cast a sweeping glance around the room, the kind that drew attention as much as it assessed the scene. He leaned casually against the counter, his presence magnetic, as though he owned the very air around him.
Two of your finest drinks, he told the bartender with a flourish, his tone commanding yet effortlessly charming. And by finest, I mean something that will make us forget the horrors of red lyrium and giant monstrosities. Impress me. He shot a quick, conspiratorial wink at Deyran, as if to say *Watch this.*
When the drinks arrived, he raised his glass, letting the faint glow of the liquid catch the light. To danger, darling, he toasted, his lips curling into a smirk that promised mischief and more. And to rewards worth every risk. He held Deyran’s gaze over the rim of the glass as he took a slow, deliberate sip, savoring not just the drink but the charged atmosphere between them.
So, he said after a moment, setting his glass down with a soft clink, tell me. You’ve survived battles, faced down horrors, and clearly left a trail of broken hearts in your wake. What’s next for a man like you? Surely you’re not planning to retire and take up gardening? His teasing smile softened into something warmer, more curious, as he studied Deyran. Or is there something else driving you forward? A cause, a dream, a promise?
Alaric tilted his head, his gaze sharp yet inviting, as though he could see through to whatever truth lay beneath Deyran’s carefully cultivated bravado—and was eager to learn more.
Deyran's lips curved into a smile, the corners pulling with a quiet, dangerous amusement. He didn't flinch as Alaric’s presence pressed in, instead leaning just a fraction closer, their shoulders brushing like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You’re bold, he said, watching Alaric with quiet intensity, but you may be forgetting that danger—takes its pound of flesh.
When the drinks arrived, he raised his glass but didn’t toast immediately. His gaze flicked from the liquid to Alaric, the heat in the air between them thickening.
To danger, he said, voice a rough whisper.
He took a sip, the liquid biting his tongue before he let it slide down. Then, setting the glass down with a soft click, he met Alaric’s eyes again—his own gaze steady, unwavering.
Well, he began, his tone shifting, smooth but colder, there’s someone who’s depending on me. His eyes briefly flickered, a moment of vulnerability masked by the deadly calm in his voice. The red lyrium monstrosity—if there are more, I need to...
His fist tightened involuntarily, the muscle in his jaw tightening with the unspoken weight of weakness.
I guess, he muttered, his lips curling into a wry smile, the plan is to sort of go monster hunting.
A beat of silence followed, heavy with meaning, before he looked up again, his eyes locked onto Alaric's.
Alaric's dark eyes flickered, the playful glint in them dimming just a touch as the weight beneath Deyran’s words settled between them. For a moment, the carefully balanced game they'd been playing seemed to pause—though neither of them broke the thread stretched taut between their gazes.
Monster hunting, Alaric echoed, his voice quieter now, like he was testing the shape of the words on his tongue. He traced the rim of his glass with one finger, the faint shimmer of magic sparking in the wake of his touch before it faded. It does have a certain...tragic allure, doesn't it? Valiant heroes, dark creatures, noble sacrifices. All very romantic—if you're into that sort of thing.
His eyes flicked back to Deyran, sharper now, cutting through the easy charm like a knife slipping beneath silk. But I wonder... He leaned in again, close enough that his breath ghosted warm against Deyran’s ear. Is it vengeance driving you, darling? Or something else entirely?
The weight of the question hung in the air between them, but Alaric didn’t press. He simply sat back, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, letting the moment stretch.
Then, just like that, the mask slid back into place—his smirk returning, light and wicked.
Personally, he drawled, I prefer to hunt my monsters with a bit more style. A stiff drink in one hand, a devastating spell in the other...and, if I'm very lucky, some devastating company to watch my back. His gaze flicked down, deliberately slow, before snapping back up to meet Deyran’s eyes. Wouldn't you agree?
The tension between them coiled tighter, shimmering on the edge of something unspoken—something dangerous.
Alaric let the silence linger, savoring it, before he finally lifted his glass once more.
To monsters, he murmured, the velvet promise in his voice cutting beneath the surface, and the poor fools who can’t resist chasing them.
