The Written Word

[font=Arial, serif][font=Arial, serif]His cross with the rather tall lady aside, Ruth made his way towards the building mentioned by his contact. Blue hues narrowed the outside, this was not his usual haunt and honestly the elf was begrudged to hand it over to someone unknown to him. The rare set of poems sat deep in his satchel, another missing volume that he had transcribed by hand for his own records some days before. He was going to require another bookcase eventually, but first a suitable residence, even if temporary, was required. The Bear and Badger was cosy enough, but true privacy for his own thoughts were only allowed on the road or in one’s own home and he had not long returned from his latest excursion. [/font][/font]

[font=Arial, serif][font=Arial, serif]Perhaps he should ask the Stoner… No. She would spoil being able to take whatever dalliance he had on his arm at any given moment. They would all think her his wife and Ruth’s stomach threatened to rebel at the notion. Megara was neither his type, nor would ever entertain him in that way, but she did cultivate the strongest elfroot tobacco he'd ever encountered. She's good for something, if merely getting hashed off his face. [/font][/font]

[font=Arial, serif][font=Arial, serif]Releasing a tired sigh, he pressed on, pushing the door aside. After a cursory glance around, he’d casually saunter in, thumb tracing along shelves of various authors towards a large desk. [/font][/font]

[font=Arial, serif][font=Arial, serif]"Helloooo, I was told you buy rare books." [/font][/font]

Early afternoon once again saw the door to Faelyn's study open, as were the windows, trying desperately to get some kind of cross breeze through the deeper parts of the repository, eventually finding himself resorting to his magic to keep the room from getting too stuffy. His left hand was twirling idly in the air, stirring it up quite literally with his aeromancy, though the gesture was almost lazy as the elf was drawn into the tome that he was reading, his right hand taking notes on what needed to be done to this particular book to restore it. 

His days were a varied thing. Sometimes correcting historical accounts that seemed almost based in fiction, while others were the more direct definition of his position. Archival restoration. This poor thing had been battered and beaten through the last several hundred years, and while he would do his best to lift the damage from it's pages, there would be no mistake about it that this would need to be transcribed to be most effective. 

A voice echoed down the long hallways and pulled Faelyn's attention up and away from his work with a curious and equally confused look on his face. Those who visited the repository either often helped themselves to what they needed, or found him directly. It wasn't as if there were others down here, empty studies waiting for other archivists had sat vacant for some years. 

Rising from his desk and stepping out into the halls, a single eyebrow was raised as he went to find the owner of the voice that was calling nonsense through his repository. What he found was, to him, a young elf who apparently, had books to sell him? Well... yes. I do from time to time. Do you wish to come sit or perhaps we could stand at opposite ends of the repository and call out our deal to each other? there was a light teasing to his voice, no malice to be found. This was not where classes were held, so he was the only one to be bothered by such tomfoolery was the two of them.

[font=Arial, serif]Ruth had something to sell, for the right price of course. He wasn’t about to part with something he knew could fetch a good reward on the black market, but, as ever, some degree of conscience gnawed at him that they should be returned home. Scattered fragments of their history aside, the written word was more than just a timeline of their people’s accomplishments and failures. Their rich culture had suffered since the fall, scattered and torn apart by wars fought, blood shed and cities burned to crumbling lost ruins. Voices lost to the turning of time, songs, poems, all silenced and forgotten as memories of them died out in passing generations. [/font]

[font=Arial, serif]Each new find revealed clues to another, and there, the chase and need for discovery. A hunt that never ended, unless the books ran out, or he came across a wall, both figuratively and physically barring him until acquiring the right key or solution. Yet, this was the first time he’d ventured into the Repository, first time he’d approached the proper channels to sell something. Irritating and annoying as it was, the few titles he skimmed walking past were logged away for later as a voice returned his call. [/font]

[font=Arial, serif]Ruth’s pace slowed to a pause, tips of his ears twitching as the … lackey? Archivist? Whoever he was, raised an obvious question. There was a half-smirk which flashed across one side of Ruth’s face, his shoulders shrugged absently, the elf’s entire posture read as someone confidently relaxed. “Probably wisest, we wouldn’t want to startle the threads of the binding with such vibrations.” A facetious thought, but the healer resumed walking towards the other, chuckling softly. Eventually drawing up, his hands firmly in the front pockets of his breeches, Ruth nodded in greeting. [/font]

[font=Arial, serif]A brow arched as he glanced up and down the hallway, noticing the sheer lack of bodies around. Honestly it was actually peaceful, his memory casting back to his small alcove back in Skyhold’s pitiful library. Now closer, he appraised the other more notably, a hand shifting to the strap of the satchel resting across his chest.[/font]

[font=Arial, serif]“...Did I come during lunch?” he’d grin, biting back that they’d left something tasty behind for some degree of professionalism. How long it would last was debatable, dependant on what opportunity his new found acquaintance would leave for him.[/font]

Oh he was a curious sort, mischief playing at the edge of this man's features would either be entertaining or a nightmare with little in between. He was hoping for the former rather than the latter as his life went largely untouched by mischief anymore in the absence of others in his life. No, I haven't taken my lunch yet. More often than not I simply take it at my desk and resume working. Though if you would like me to send for something if you find yourself hungry, I can do so. it didn't occur to him immediately that this newcomer was referring to the empty halls, it was simply his norm. I am the only one that haunts the repository anymore.

Turning to return to his study, there was a hand extended, drawing this stranger with him. Please, come, sit, and we shall see what you've brought me. I am Faelyn, the archivist of Arlathan. it was a bit of a formal introduction, to match the formal yet still somehow humble looking elf. What it didn't match was the curiosity in his eyes. That danced like flames and promised something more than a stuffy, closed up ancient.

[font=Arial, serif]Ruth’s head tilted, not at all surprised such a person in a place like this would choose to eat at his desk than in the sunshine or bustle outside. A kindred spirit in a way, though his mouth as ever got in the way of rational thought. “Hungry? Well,” he smirked, his upper torso swaying some, “I can be persuaded to partake in a snack, sure.” Amusement bubbled across his face, the chuckle softly coughed away once the other informed him he was alone. Brows knotted. “Seriously? … Sounds like goddamn heaven if you ask me.” [/font]

[font=Arial, serif]A shudder ran through the younger elf, half cursing himself for not venturing to the place earlier. Then his eye caught his new acquaintance turning away, beckoning him to follow. Eyes drifted downward, lips curling approvingly before his head snapped up to focus on the hand being presented. A lopsided grin was flashed, no hint of apology would be found in his blue hues as he leaned against the doorframe instead. “Rut’theran, but most call me Ruth. Other titles include rascal and shithead researcher, but Ruth will suffice.” Dipping his head a little, he finally produced his hand, wrapping it around Faelyn’s in a firm shake. “Pleasure to meet you, Fae.”[/font]

There was something in the tone of Ruth's voice, something laced into the very mannerisms of him that was a call back to a much younger elf, so very very long ago. The same teasing words that brought color to his cheeks once upon a time now did so again, the color soft pink against freckles and golden vallaslin. Yes... Just me. The occasional researcher but most days it is just me. It's quite nice, though I must admit years on end does leave one to want for company from time to time.

The study that Ruth was taken to had it's walls lined with shelves. Those shelves house Faelyn's personal collection, rebuilt over the years, with little trinkets, odds, and ends laced through out. Small stained glass pieces against the open window caught the light and cast their bright colors across the floor. An open terrarium, a replica of the local flora catching the afternoon sun and beginning to condensate against the curved glass, the shelf that it was placed on carefully chosen for just that purpose. All tidy. All neat. A well loved, lived in space but kempt. The desk was another matter altogether, best described as careful chaos. 

Having his hand taken to be shaken came at perhaps a bit of a surprise. But shake it he did, though his small hand was a touch dwarfed even though they were close in height, and every bit as small and outright delicate as the rest of him. Ruth... A pleasant name, for a pleasant individual I would think. Please, take a chair and make yourself at home. I will call for lunch and be back in just a moment.

Stepping out of the room and leaving Ruth to his own devices for the span of a few minutes, there were a number of options to choose from. A comfortable looking arm chair in the corner, it's side table the resting place for the book Faelyn was reading for pleasure. There was the chair across the desk, perhaps the one actually meant for guests, looking somewhat hard backed. But then there was the chair that Faelyn sat most in at his desk. Broken in and well loved like the rest of the room. A small, rounded pillow for his lower back, a blanket folded across the back either left over from winter or to chase out the chill of spring nights. While the armchair looked comfortable, this was where he spent all of his time.

Faelyn's footsteps could be heard a few minutes later, returning up the corridor, calling out ahead of him. I don't know your tastes, so I look a guess. Hopefully there will be something to suit.

That flush across the elf’s features wasn't lost on Ruth. Lips twitched at the corners, the only indication his (so far) mild antics had sparked a reaction. The colour against the freckles suited him, the frame of auburn an additional glow that Ruth allowed himself a lingering once over. “Must be nice, if, just as you say, a little lonely. Reminds me of that saying about a tree falling in a forest. Bet no-one would even hear you if you fell off a ladder in this place.”

Eyes drifted over the study, an uncanny feeling rolled over him but he suppressed it with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s a name, better than most I suppose.” Curiosity over its origins had never been entertained since the man who’d given it ceased to exist in his mind. Still, the description bestowed to him caused him to scoff a chuckle through his nose. “Don’t think I’ve ever been called a pleasant individual, but I can certainly make an effort for you.”

And then he was left, the hand slipped out of his grasp and Ruth was left to his own devices. As usual the healer’s eye trailed the bookshelves, reading the spines of those he could decipher. The itch to take and peruse through a few had him shoving hands into the pockets of his robes, it would be rude and a good impression was needed. He remained standing until Faelyn returned, eventually slumping into the seat across from him. Blue hues watched him carefully, eyes studying him to work out how on Thedas he stumbled upon his nigh opposite.

“My tastes are pretty varied,” he’d smirk. “I’m sure whatever it is, will suit my tastes fine.”

A very true statement that there would be no one around to hear him fall off of a ladder, among other things. It also often meant that Faelyn was undisturbed in all pursuits, though often that more than to him simply speaking his thoughts aloud to the air, rather than to anyone in particular. 

Upon returning, it was curious to see Ruth still standing, half expecting such a personality to have somewhat invaded his space and taken his prefered seat at his desk. Not that he truly would have minded. I did say make yourself at home. was his small quip, settling into his desk chair and studying Ruth for a moment, looking both out of place in that straight backed chair and so very in place within the study itself. So... what will it be first? Business or pleasure in our lunch?

[font=Arial, serif]Being wrapped up in his own head, his own thoughts and musings were familiar and well trodden paths for Ruth. He had always been an outsider, a loner, even when surrounded by a gaggle of bastard mercenaries or holed up in Skyhold researching for the Inquisition. There were times where he got lost in his own musings staring at that blasted hole in the sky. [/font]

[font=Arial, serif]Ruth was particular about his space, well, when he had a space to work in that wasn’t the floor of his tent or room in a tavern. He liked his privacy, details about himself kept strictly under a number of guarded layers. “Making oneself at home, implies one has a home to begin with,” he quipped back, shoulders shrugging, hands finding themselves behind his head. [/font]

[font=Arial, serif]Ruth blinked and the offer presented did nothing to damper his growing amusement. The man was just lining the opportunities one after another. “Well… I had come with the intention of just business, but I’m seriously reconsidering that.” Ruth’s chuckled rumbled some at the back of his throat, “We can talk business over lunch if you like. In the meantime you can tell me how an Auburn beaut landed this gig, yeah?”[/font]

Being called beautiful was not something Faelyn would ever get used to. His husbands had been trying for over a thousand years and still it managed to leave him more than a bit stunned every time. I- Um- the gentle pink that had been previously across his cheeks had turned into a scarlet to rival the red of his hair as Fae ducked his face a bit in a touch of embarrassment to collect his thoughts into something more eloquent than um's. 

Taking the moment to clear away his work from his desk so they could eventually eat, books and journals were set on their proper shelves as he spoke. A combination of being thousands of years old and knowing exactly how to restore numerous kinds of art, books, and artifacts. Though I suppose that makes me a bit of an artifact as well, even if I don't feel any older than 30 or 40. He certainly didn't look it, either.

[font=Arial, serif]The deepening shade of skin only emboldened Ruth, the stammer of words only the cherry to top it off. “Why so shy now?” a little curious thought burrowed away into his mind as he asked. “I can’t be the only one to have noticed, maybe you’ve been inside a little too long?” [/font]

[font=Arial, serif]Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, Ruth watched as he cleared away the desk, eyes glazing over briefly before he reigned it in with a sigh and sitting back again. The admission his potential new found snack business contact was one of the Ancients had  his back straightening some. The researcher in him had an abundance of questions, all biting to be vomited all over the place yet Ruth was just able to contain himself. “Well… you have me beat on experience, but don’t count me out. I am a younger man after all, but is the shyness a new thing or have you always been a bashful one? Don't get me wrong, it's cute as fuck.”
[/font]

For a moment all language was lost to him, worlds and milenia of knowledge sapped from his mind in a moment. Part of him knew this man was trouble. But trouble was exactly what had been missing from his life. Some element of mischief that he longed for. That now sat in his study. 

Forcing himself to turn around as a much younger Dalish elf entered the study, giving him a moment of reprieve, a tray was sat down on his desk where the books had been vacated from. Thank you, da'len. Back to your studies, now. came the much more composed answer, the child slipping from the repository entirely, steps fading away into the distance. It was a simple lunch by all account, a fresh spring salad with dried fruit and nuts, some kind of grilled poultry set atop, small pots of oil and vinegar each waiting to be poured over, along with fresh bread and a mint cool tea. 

I am... unused to such flattery. It's been a very long time. the color had not left his cheeks as he returned to the desk, though on the same side that Ruth sat, trying to occupy himself with seeing what had been brought for lunch.

To say his grin was smug was an understatement. Ruth chuckled to himself allowing the other to compose himself some as an attendant eventually came by. He’d merely flicker his gaze between the two, tilting his head in thanks and offering a playful wink to the child scampering off.

Shuffling forward to be on the edge of the chair, he’d pick up a raisin, eyeing the spread with mild interest. “A couple of thousand years in the ground would do that,” he’d snicker, popping the fruit into his mouth. “World has changed a lot since you went for your long siesta, though some things certainly haven’t.” Maybe they had and he was just too uninterested to notice, though it wasn’t in Ruth’s immediate concern right now. Someone else had his attention.

“...You haven’t even left this place yet, have you? Trust me when I say there would be a whole line giving you more than my cheap patter.” And then he couldn’t help but tossing in another quip to see if he could shift that shade a tone or two darker with, “I’d just prefer you like mine, makes it easier for later.”

"No. I-I haven't. That is a complicated matter. was his reply at first, though complicated did not even begin to cover the full nature of it. Nor did it seem proper to discuss the matters of his husbands with the man sitting with him now. Faelyn had always been free to pursue the carnal things in life, just as Silas and Cian were, though to say he had done so would have been a lie. There had been no others. 

Ever. 

Perhaps that was why his flush began to reach the tips of his pointed ears, a smile starting to form at the edges of his mouth. For all that he was somewhat inexperienced in flirting, this... this he liked. And if I said I did like yours...? A slice of soft bread was buttered and held out to him to take as he wished.

Ruth’s eyes narrowed, curiosity getting the better of him, the comment sending cogs turning. Yet the flush travelling across his ears distracted the question on the tip of his tongue. A lopsided grin emerged across the younger face. All those years and Faelyn still couldn’t hide the effect of some mild flirting. While he lacked the usual fuel of alcohol, Ruth’s tongue was only slightly diminished, briefly wishing there had been wine along with the lunch.

A feral glow flashed in his eyes for a moment with Faelyn’s admission. Ruth sucked in a breath, a hummed chuckle following after. “Well, that was going to happen.. It would mean a few things, if you’d like to hear them?”

His grin flashed wider, fingers picking up a few nuts this time. “I can butter other things, but I wouldn’t start there.”