[IC/OOC] Contact

[mactears]

sending crystal | letters and notes | in-person visits
To contact Loghain IC: Leave a response to this entry, specifying the means of contact (e.g., sending crystal, letters, in person visit). To contact me OOC: Discord: middlemarching#9936 Plurk: ragweed NB:  I work 9-5pm EST Mon-Fri, have additional volunteer obligations, and write fiction in my free time.

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the first night after his arrival

[doneisdone]

Teren isn't known to be very social, though periodically she will check up on a new Warden to ensure they have everything they need. What kind of quartermaster would she be otherwise?
Rather than risk any spying eyes by approaching Loghain in public, she waits until most everyone has gone off to their rooms for the evening. With a tin of biscuits in one hand, she raps on the door with the other, looking a bit too stern to be a proper welcome wagon.

[mactears]

His lodgings are about as spartan as one might expect of the Traitor Teyrn, who has naught to his name but the shirt on his back and the tools of his trade--and a decent map case. It is the contents of this last that he is examining on the rickety table inside his quarters when Teren arrives. Looking up, Loghain takes a sip from the mug of weak tea he'd prepared for himself, ostensibly before bed, and walks over to the door, opens it--

He looks from Teren to the tin, then back again. While guarded, his expression could easily be described as cordial, too. "Yes?"

[doneisdone]

She smiles frankly, holding up the tin. "Welcome to Kirkwall."
Leaning around to peer past him, Teren inspects his room from the doorway. "You've got everything you need? Blankets? Sword polish?"

action

[mythalenaste]

Loghain can find Pel at the dock, looking exactly as advertised except with the addition of a tiny white-haired three-month-old in a sling. Pel is patiently teaching the baby how to grasp a primitive little doll after dropping it. She's not sure who she's looking for, but he'll know her when he sees her.

Re: action

[mactears]

He does indeed.

The sight of the small child in her arms brings the shadow of a smile to the corners of his mouth, but he approaches her with caution regardless. He clears his throat. "Beg pardon," he begins, "but I think you're waiting for me."

[mythalenaste]

She looks up and gives him a smile that's really all eyes and no mouth. The baby manages to take hold of the little doll and studies it intensely.

"I think I was. I'm Pel. You're looking for a blacksmith, right?"

breakfast.

[ipseite]

( Rising habitually before dawn, Petrana doesn't oblige him to wait for her on the ramparts - and she brings her own breakfast, as she might as well. His shirts are...

Well. The folded bundle that she offers him, still carrying the trace scent of the lilac-water she wears habitually, is not the same as the one he handed to her a few days before. They are shirts, certainly. They are even blue, if of a slightly different shade, deeper around the seams from an inexpert but well-set dye. They will fit him as well as the previous ones did, having been sewn from their shape; they have definitely been newly sewn. It is the neat, precise stitching of a lady accustomed to making and repairing her husband's shirts, and on one of the collars she'd been unable to help herself and embroidered a design clearly alluding to the Wardens' sigil; rather less fine fabric than what she must have worked with previously.

Rather suspiciously alike to the sheets on most of the Gallows beds, actually. )

Your shirts.

( There's a glint in her eye; a hint of challenge. Go on, sass her about it. She burned the other ones. )

[mactears]

[It should come as no surprise to Petrana that Loghain Mac Tir is, himself, also an early riser. He stands near the ramparts with a steaming mug of tea placed on the parapet, and what looks like a piece of hardtack held in one hand. In the other he holds a small journal, reviewing its contents with slightly squinty eyes. His eyesight isn't what it used to be.]

Your shirts.

[He looks up, startled, and stares at Petrana for a moment as though he has no idea what she's doing here. ...Possibly he hadn't expected her to arrive. Then he looks to the shirts in her hands, and can tell immediately that these are not the ones he arrived in Kirkwall with.]

Well, [he starts, sets the journal and tack down, and steps forward to accept them. It's easy to tell where the shirts came from; that alone brings an appreciative sort of chuckle out of him. One finger flips back the collar once he notices the little sigil embroidered there, clearly the work of a gifted hand.

Looking up again, he catches the look in her eye. How like Anora.] 'Mending,' eh? [Then, more appreciative, sincere,] You have my thanks, madame.

[ipseite]

A more involved project than I'd first envisioned, ( she allows, lightly, once he's safely taken them and doesn't seem to be in the mood to argue the point. Stubborn as a mule, but gracious in victory. ) But well-mended, I daresay.

( She joins him at the ramparts, warming her hands around her own tea - there's an apple in the basket, a light breakfast - and offers a small smile. ) When I first arrived, I'd an arrangement with one of the more literate serving girls. She would read to me from the books that I wished to study while I was still acquainting myself with your lettering, and I would do her share of the mending.

crystal. during the island adventure; an evening.

[ipseite]

( A brief message, only - an in-drawn breath at the beginning, a sigh, and finally; )

I hope you are well, and return to Kirkwall safely.

Re: crystal. during the island adventure; an evening.

[mactears]

(A moment of startled silence, accompanied at first only by the sound of the sea, and muffled chatter from the rest of the crew. On first watch for the evening, Loghain fiddles with the crystal a moment. Then,] Our return may be delayed, madame. We've encountered some trouble with the local--[a pause; how to describe bloody sea monsters?]--marine life. We're en route to Llomerryn for repairs.

[Another pause, and then,] I hope you've kept up your practice with that dagger in my absence.

Crystal

[conqueredhearts]

My friend. I feel I should inform you that I have taken on one more adviser. I am aware that three to that room might be cramped so I would like to offer to trade offices with you three should the three of you find the space to be tight.

Anyway, Anders is the one who will be joining us. I look forward to the four of us working well together.

[He knows he doesn't HAVE to inform Loghain of this but he wants to. It's a nice thing to do!]

[mactears]

[A startled pause, but not one that indicates displeasure.] Very well--thank you for informing me, serah.

crystal.

[ipseite]

( It's not exactly an official communication - it isn't her job to manage someone else's staff - but with Loghain and Anders both friends of hers, she'd be remiss in not making sure they both have time to ensure whatever preparations they've made are ready. )

Loghain - the Viscount will have briefs of all the division senior staff this week following at the latest. You must let me know if the Wardens require anything in how you mean to handle the matter.

( She nearly makes the same addition as she had to Anders, if he needs support - but it might be presuming much of their new friendship. He knows where she is. )

[mactears]

[It's a message that catches him off-guard for a moment, though the advance notice is welcome. Better to know an unwelcome thing is en route, rather than to have it arrive without any warning.

Still,] I thank you for telling me, [he says after a pause.] I'm not sure what the Wardens would require. My service record--[this said with some irony]--speaks for itself, I should think.

sometime after the hello kitty island adventure

[doneisdone]

Teren has been scarce lately, which, to her credit, isn't that unusual. She's not the most sociable of the Wardens, and now that they live in a building instead of the camp, she has less reason to conduct her nightly patrols. No one's going to get stabbed through their tent or wake up from a Blight dream in the cold wilderness, which means she isn't needed the way she used to be.
Which is good, of course. Probably. It means she can spend more time alone, in the quiet, without having to worry about anyone seeing her new facial acquisition.

There is only one drawback to the whole thing, which is: Boots has to be fed. If Teren asked someone else to do it-- well she wouldn't, for one thing, because Boots is her unwanted druffalo, and no one else can care for him properly. For another, then it might seem like she's not up to the task, and that's ridiculous, how dare anyone assume so.

Thus it transpires that, on a drizzly evening, Teren is outside in the shed she requisitioned for her large friend's use, portioning out some grain to supplement his daily grazing. And.. talking to him. Having a full conversation, it sounds like, though Boots is markedly taciturn.

[mactears]

A little bit of rainfall won't keep Loghain Mac Tir from taking his roan mare out for what passes for a ride through the countryside in this barren stretch of the Free Marches. (A lot of rain probably wouldn't, either, if he were on his own, but guilt nags at him whenever he takes his gentle-mannered Sooty out in inclement weather when it isn't necessary.)

As it is, he's guiding her back towards the stables at a relaxed canter when he spots Teren and her druffalo friend in said requisitioned shed. It would be easy, at this distance, to pass her by and return to the Wardens' quarters in the Gallows; he does not.

Steering Sooty her way, he waits until he's off the main path before dismounting, patting his horse fondly on the withers, and then leads her by her bridle towards Teren. "Evening," he offers her in perfunctory greeting; he pays little to no attention to her scar, instead focusing on Boots. "How's the big fellow?"

some timey wimey point after nevarra

[arlathvhen]

[ Beleth approaches him when he looks to be alone (easy) and not overly preoccupied by another task (more challenging). She's not sure if Alistair would necessarily approve of this, but she's past the days when that was overly troubling. ]

Warden mac Tir, [ She starts off, with a deferential bob of her head, to show that she's not here to start trouble. It's something that she figures he might have to worry about, with a new face. ] I am Beleth Ashara, head of the Scouting division, and I was wondering if you would have a few moments to speak.

[mactears]

[The approach of an elf is reason enough to make him pause guardedly, but at her greeting, some of the tension leaves Loghain's shoulders.]

Yes, [he starts, his brows drawing together some.] What can I help you with?

action, nsfw.

[exequy]

[ from here ]

The sudden darkness doesn't slow Kostos down any. In the time it takes his eyes to adjust so Loghain's outline is discernible again, Kostos has peeled the man's remaining clothing down to his knees and is shifting back—to give Loghain room to get them off his ankles himself, to get out of his own, to rub his hands warmer and lick one palm to fingertips before reaching back out to find his cock and encourage his interest along with slow strokes.

He uses his other hand to find Loghain's and put it back on his side. Silent instruction. That was nice. It doesn't take much touch to start deepening his breathing, generally, and in the meantime he slides his knee over between Loghain's thighs and his hand over his shoulder to his neck, to cup there and stroke his thumb down his throat, where the skin is looser than it might be on a younger man, but soft, too, under stubble and over muscle.

"Any preferences?" he asks—voice low, wine-dark, paired with a faint smile that's audible if not quite visible. Sometimes sex is the only way he feels in sync with anyone else. Sometimes it seems like the only thing he can do that doesn't hurt someone.

[mactears]

"Any preferences?" he has the cheek to ask, as though Loghain has had ample opportunity to develop any--hardly with women, and none at all with men. Under his touch Loghain requires very little encouragement to grow hard; his lover for the night has his complete and undivided attention, which Loghain's intense grey eyes communicate as clearly than his arousal does.

(Is mutual attraction, the desire to give pleasure as well as to receive it, synchronicity enough? It's what Loghain can give him, here and now; whatever hurt he receives, he's withstood--and likely deserves--worse than a few awkward bruises acquired during sex.)

He takes a breath and, "None," he answers belatedly, winded, and allows himself the freedom to warm his hands against Kostos' skin again; one follows the curve of his spine between the planes of his shoulder blades, drawing the heat of his body closer. The other settles on the outside of his thigh, palming the muscle there appreciatively. He leans close enough to press his mouth against Kostos' chest, and a shiver runs the length of him at the taste of salt on his skin. "What do you like? Perhaps I'll oblige you."

[pinprick]

I won't be working today. Anders collapsed last night and I have to stay with him to make sure he doesn't get out of bed and, Maker forbid, work.

[mactears]

[alarmed,]

Maker, what happened?

Crystal

[justice_is_blond]

How do you feel about going a little into Ferelden? As far as Soldier's Peak?

[mactears]

[with some amusement,] Good morning to you, too, Anders.

[after a pause,]

Are you sure it is wise for me to return to Ferelden? [True, he managed it once, but Amaranthine was a far cry from Soldier's Peak.]