A night out had been on the cards the minute he had entered back into dreary Kirkwall. For all its restrictions it certainly had its bustling underground of criminals keeping it interesting. Ruth and his group had rolled back into the city for a spell and he, like always, sought out the local tavern he knew his friends frequented, looking for one half-elf specifically.
Striding up to the Coterie’s table, Ruth stretched his arms out to the side. “Move over you bastard, the King of fun is back.” He’d offer a mock bow before shoving his way into a space next to Nairn. Ruth made himself comfortable, leaning heavily into the booths fraying cushions. “How you been fucker?” Without asking, Ruth reached for an empty mug and the pitcher of ale, pouring himself a generous helping and bringing it to his lips.
While not a member, he’d helped out a few times or the Coterie had helped his group out, he couldn’t quite remember the how's and whys they’d met, but Ruth was glad they had. It made the healer's time in Kirkwall more bearable considering the hostile atmosphere against mages. His friend seemed distracted though, glancing all too often in a direction towards the bar.
Nairn scowled briefly, as he was nudged to make room for the other man. He grumbled, shuffling to find some sembalance of personal space, though there wasn't much to be had. Normally he'd have been louder, feigned more upset, but he'd glanced back towards the bar.
Craning his neck to catch another glimpse of her; the new Coterie healer. She'd brought him back from the brink of death once, and ever since then he'd been taking any injured person her way. Just for a reason to wait in the same room as her, even if he didn't talk.
He cleared his throat and glanced back to Ruth, realizing the other man was probably trying to figure out what was at the bar that was so interesting, and he pulled her mug of ale to him, sipping from it. Welcome home, fool. He addressed the lanky elf, as he placed his cup aside.
Tell me 'bout your travels? A story from Ruth could mean anything; and they were usually entertaining.
As he downed some of his pint Ruth’s eyes were already making a sweep. Nairn was distracted, annoyed, but almost nervous about something. He’d follow the fleeting glances, placing down the pint to lean across the table to cast a cursory look at the bar, as if looking for others to join them.
His true intention was to scope out the bar’s occupants. There was the usual handler crew, old Bertie was there but sat next to him was a dark-haired elf. This was new. So that’s who’d caught his eye. Ruth offered a quiet whistle, snickering as he cast his friend a side look. “Forget about my travels, who’s the new girl?” His brow arched, hand picking back up his pint turning his attention back to observing.
“She’s dalish.” He’d offer, nudging his friend hoping to entice Nairn to give further details. Maybe because it was due to the fact he was dalish, they had certain quirks and tells. “It's the way she's braided her hair. She’s fresh out of the woods.”
Nairn glanced down at his ale, when Ruth asked about the girl. Mmm, Bertie brought her. Found her. She's a new healer for the C. He murmured, shifting in his seat.
He'd much rather hear about the other man's travels than think too hard about how he couldn't bring himself to join the rest of his crew at their table, because he knew he'd stare too much. Seems kind. Don't think she belongs with the C, though. Seems... vulnerable. He'd only interacted with her a handful of times; primarily as her patient. But he didn't want her to wind up stuck here, serving the Coterie's cause. He's seen what living this kind of life does to people who are kind like that.
Ruth clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. His eyes drifted back and forth lazily. “Oh yeah? What she healed, Bertie’s bedsores?” He’d snort, not believing his own words for a second. Bertie wasn’t the type to sleep with his crew or pine after a lass half his age on principle.
Still, Nairn was avoiding even looking in the direction of the girl and group. He’d scoff at his friends words, rolling his eyes a little. Something was going on. “You don’t think anyone belongs in the C, that’s why you spend half your time turning them young’in’s elsewhere.”
Ruth tilted his head with the last of his words though. “But vulnerable?” he snickered, “...Lemme go find that part out.” Before wriggling out of the booth, he’d ruffle Nairn’s head.
Nairn scowled, when Ruth asked if the girl'd slept with Bertie. 'coz nobody belongs here. Except him, he'd grown up here and knew nothing else. But the older ones that joined up... he thought they had a chance elsewhere and spent as much time as he could finding that chance.
Ruth! He whispered, trying to grab his friend by the hand. Ruth, don't! He buried his face in his hands, and exhaled slowly. He'd give the other man a second.
Maybe he'd just talk to her. Then he'd come back...
It could be that simple, right?
Probably not, knowing Ruth. But Nairn was willing to pretend like he had no idea how this might go down. A bystander for the moment.
Waving off his friend, Ruth sauntered over to the bar, picking up a few empty glasses as he went. As luck would have it the stool next to her would free up just as he’d reach it, sneaking into the spot and passing off the glasses as a good deed. He’d give Bertie a friendly wave and greeting the heads turned in acknowledgement. Meg herself was caught mid-sip and offered him a wave. It made him blink, side-eyeing over to Nairn briefly. No fucking way was this dalish as dorky as Nairn.
Quickly, the talk would turn into dalish, not quite catching her off as he’d expected. Ruth attempted to flatter her, but all Meg would do would snort and then laugh him off. She was obviously not buying what he was selling. Then suddenly she offered the rogue healer something, which Ruth took, despite his brow furrowing, confusion flickering through his stare.
He’d return to Nairn after leaving her with a final Ruth remark. Meg flushed scarlet, but her eyes rolled uninterested.
Snickering with the new drinks, he’d slip back in beside Nairn, “Oh she’s funny. Shame she has terrible taste in men.” Shaking his head, Ruth reached for his pint, “Completely, flatly denied me. Used a good line on her too, but she’d rather talk to the old todgers, you, folks she already knows.”
He might have stretched her words a bit, but hells, that’s what the new pints were for. Antivan Courage, or whatever it was. “Gave me something for you by the way.”
Nairn watched from afar, scowling into his ale. He was too far from them to hear anything said, and that only made his scowl deepen. He's never been so against Ruth meeting any of the new girls before; he's never minded if the other elf wound up in their beds, either. But this one...
He sighed, waiting anxiously as he tried to surmise what was going on. When Ruth started to make his way back to him, Nairn raised his eyebrows. At the news that she turned him down, Nairn snorted. Did she? Smart girl. Must've recognized you for what you are, player. He bumped shoulders with his friend.
Not often you get turned away, though. It didn't surprise him that Megara would rather talk to those she already knew. She didn't come across as overly anxious to befriend any and all. She didn't give you nothing for me, Ruthie. Don't tease. He grumbled, straightening on his stool. And if she did, it's somethin' I left in her space.
Ruth knew he had struck a nerve talking with the new lass. It was written all over Nairn’s face as he rounded the table and settled back into the booth. The bump was returned after safely depositing the drinks, scoffing and lifting his shoulders at the others words. “At least I get some. When’s the last time you went and dipped your wick, eh?”
Taking a deep sip from his pint, Ruth didn’t answer, despite it being mostly dependent on how behaved his tongue was, which was never and some people really liked that. He'd quizzed the lass on helping her unwind, and when asked how, he'd snickered. In this case it was Nairn’s company she was more interested in than Ruth's offer of a thorough massage, with delicious edibles included. Cream was cream. But now he'd struck a nerve, refusing to let the opportunity to tease Nairn about it pass by.
Setting the pint down the healer would rub his hands together absently, “Am no teasin’,” of course he was. Blue hues narrowed, twinkling in amusement while his friend shifted awkwardly. Ruth sucked a breath in through his teeth and chuckled, “Well I suppose that be true, buuuut..” his voice drifted as a hand dipped back into the pocket of his robes, “there’s no way you made yourself this.”
A flick of his wrist he produced the gift. Pinched between his fingers at the corner a carefully made scarf unfolded, just big enough to disguise one's face, the woven threads careful hemmed by a steady hand.
Ruth drew it back a fraction, just in case Nairn attempted to snatch it out of his grasp for now. His free hand picked the opposite corner, drawing it across his own face playfully, “I didn’t know green was your colour,” he’d mumble, “or maybe it’s her colour, yes?” A shiteating grin spread across his face, the corner of his lips almost reaching his eyes. Leaning forward he dangled it, taunting his friend to take it this time. “Want me to go invite her over, or you gonna grow a pair and go thank her yourself? Or am I getting to keep this, smell's like dirt, but earthy. It's nice.”
The hard shove at the question was Nairn's only response. The answer was, he truly didn't think about it. He's not one for too many one-night stands, and he's never shown interest in any of the people that threw themselves at him. But he doesn't shove too hard; he knows that's why his old friend is teasing. Because between the two of them, Nairn was the least likely to show interest in someone.
He scowled as Ruth held the fabric up for him to see, his ears tinged red and he reached to snatch the scarf away. Hmph. Green's just a color, he insisted, fingers rubbing against the fabric, appreciating how well-made it was.
Nairn leaned back in his chair, glaring at the other elf. You're ridiculous. But he had a good point. That didn't mean Nairn was going to admit that. Or act on Ruth's suggestion to invite her over, just yet. He'd tuck the scarf into his pocket, fiddling with it even then.
Another moment of staring at Ruth, he'd shake his head. Get us another round. With those words, Nairn made his way across the floor, sliding into a seat next to Megara after tapping whoever had seated themselves next to her to slide down one.
Ruth snickered, returning the shove but not as heavily. Perhaps when in the haze of alcohol and one or two bumps of lyrium, Nairn could maybe get some, but Ruth doubted it. He’d never known Nairn to take a particular shine to anyone, not beyond a second glance. This chick had him hanging around, sneaking glances and even his ears giving him away.
Dropping his end when Nairn snatched for it, the healer leaned back with a smug grin. “Oh sure, not at all because they match her emerald looking eyes. Impossible coincidence.” He struggled to keep the laughter bubbling out of him as Nairn squirmed, it was so precious.
Though as lad stood, announcing another round Ruth didn’t argue or point out he’d just come back with one, only raising his brows curiously. "Be safe, no wee Nairn's now." When his friend's back was turned he hastily took a swig, manoeuvring himself into a better seat to watch how the ship sank or sailed. However the outcome, Ruth would supply a distraction, or an encouraging pep talk. The lass seemed surprised to see his friend, the shy smile spread across her face as he spoke.
[color=#008e02]“Huh? Oh him? Ach, it’s nothin’, I eh, I’m kinda used to people saying strange things like that. You know, doing healing and stuff.” [/color]Eyes darted between Nairn’s and the watered down pint in her hand. [color=#008e02]“Did… did you like the thing I made?”[/color]
Fuck you, Nairn grumbled half-heartedly, and the look he threw over his shoulder as Ruth mentioned staying safe implied if he'd had something to throw at the other, he would've.
Nairn nodded, a shy grin settling across his face. Yeah, it's well-made. He pulled the scarf from his pocket, he'd still been fiddling with the fabric. What... what's the best way to wear it? He raised an eyebrow, offering the scarf out to her.
He was just expecting her to hold it up, show him which side faced outwards. Yanno, you don't have to deal with people flirtin' with you. I mean... You're a healer. That's your job. He added, after a long moment to think about his words. Next time someone does, lemme know.
She mostly interacted with Coterie. And he wasn't above putting any member of the Coterie in their place.
Nairn glanced over his shoulder, huffing as he noted Ruth watching him. Brat. He was enjoying this.
Head lifted the minute he confirmed he did, the shy grin widening as he produced it from his pocket. The added compliment brought a light flush to her cheeks causing her to nod, I’m glad. I was making a dress and had some left over.
His question though, made her pause, blinking but after a chuckle she obliged him. Here, I’ll show you, her fingers taking the edges, unfolding out, refolding and to draw the fabric lightly across her face so only her eyes were uncovered. Then you tie it, see.. Want a try? If he let her, she'd tie it for him, tugging it back down by the hanging corner with an added Boo!
When her chuckles died down Meg realised he was… worried? Not in general, but for her. She’d been singled out. Watching him between slow sips of her beer, his sweet intentions were not lost on her despite her sus’ing Ruth’s game early. Nairn was very different, and she’d already begun to understand that ever since he’d stayed under her care. Bloodloss made people say very strange things indeed.
Her smile softened, head tilting a little. It is. And it’s his too, no? Megara snorted, still… I wouldn’t let him touch me. Her upper body fell to bump her shoulder lightly against his, pulling back a short distance with a grin. But thanks, it’s nice knowing you.. I mean folks, are looking out for me, being new still.
As Nairn made a glance towards Ruth, the elf made a point of looking anywhere else other than the direction of the bar. Apparently there was something important in his untouched drink, the show too enrapturing to take a sip in case missing something vitally embarrassing, which would no doubt be dissected later by the pair. Ruth offered him a small wave and an equally wide grin.
Nairn tilted his head, as she flushed. And then she'd plucked the scarf from his hands, to show him on herself how to wear it. And when she offered to tie it for him... Well, he didn't stop her, even if his ears did turn red.
She was adorable. Nairn was startled that he was thinking such things about someone he's only known for a short while... and not even that well.
Thank you, he grinned as she tugged it down, just in time to see a full-fledged smile. I'll be sure to wear it often. The fact she'd thought about him—and no-one else... the fact she'd thought about the fact he'd need to hide his face while working... He had other means to do that, but the scarf had now risen to his preferred means.
But he wouldn't tell her that.
His job is not to make you uncomfortable. He stated, firmly, shaking his head once. Well... we're a pretty rough crowd. I'm not the only one lookin' out for ya, he nodded towards Albert, You're one of us now. She was new, yes.
But she was part of the family.
Ruth waved him off and he glared, momentarily. Uhm... Have you met everyone, yet? I know you've met Ruthie, he's... Nairn shrugged, as if there was nothing more to say about Ruth. Ruth was Ruth, and there was very little to do to change that.
You're new to Kirkwall, too, right? It's a pretty dangerous place... has someone shown you where you shouldn't go?
She’d caught the half-smiles, the slight grins, but never a full smile before. Well. Only once before, but he’d been a patient and that didn’t really count. Meg found her own matching easily. Letting go of the scarf took some effort, especially with the way it reached his eyes and they’d caught her attention on the first day.
Like the ocean.
This was the most he’d ever talked to her, mostly it was half-mumbled hello’s in passing, or a short, to the point description of the injured person he’d brought her. The opportunity couldn’t be missed.
Ah, okay. Gotcha, she drew her fingers up to her temple, gesturing a salute. Kinda. Not all of them are pretty like you, her voice slowed on the ‘y,’ realising her running mouth, but hastily moving on. But some of you are big old softies. Killers too, but they had shown her kindness and mercy when most would’ve just seized her, imprisoned her or left her for dead. What did it matter that the work wasn’t strictly above board? Why did her cheeks feel so hot?Some of you need a bit of looking after. I’m better at that part than the other bits.
Her eyes glanced in Ruth’s direction, her grin curling. He’d moved tables, finding one much closer to the bar and was pretending to play solitaire with a deck of cards he seemed to always have slipped away in his layers. He’s a slut, chuckling, I’m sure he’s a good healer, but yeah. He’s a slut. She didn’t care, only enough that he was a friend of the Coterie and of Nairn.
I just know that both the Gallows, and wandering around the Chantry is a bit stupid, Meg shrugged. I know a little of Lowtown, but mostly just how to get back and forth from the Market really.
