mactears | [IC/OOC] Contact

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[IC/OOC] Contact


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.

Threaded | Flat

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.

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.

Edited 2017-08-30 17:29 (UTC)

( 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. )

( 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.

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!]

( 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. )

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.

[ 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.

[ 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.

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.

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

Threaded | Flat

the first night after his arrival

action

breakfast.

crystal. during the island adventure; an evening.

Crystal

crystal.

sometime after the hello kitty island adventure

some timey wimey point after nevarra

action, nsfw.

no subject

Crystal