faderift | It was the sweetness of your skin

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It was the sweetness of your skin

WHO: Maxwell and Sam
WHAT: boys though, what up with that?
WHEN: After the ball.
WHERE: Battlements, night
NOTES: Heartbreak and whining there of.

It had been some time since their fight, but still Maxwell hadn't spoken to Gavin. He had almost, at the Ball. He'd seen him and he had wanted to, but by the time he'd crossed through the crowd, Gavin had already been gone, out on the dance floor. Heart sinking, he'd slipped away... and he had stayed away since.

He'd been reminded of how different they were - elf and human, free and not - and there seemed to be little point in trying to pretend otherwise any longer.

He wanted to ask Korrin if she had anymore of that terrible Qunari brew stocked away, but he didn't wish to trouble her. So he settled for a bottle honeyed ale and the quiet of the battlements.

It was just him, the moon, and the mountains.

The ale and the gentle slide of the locket on its chain as he toyed with it.

A memento of his foolishness.

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It wasn't often that he felt like a stroll, but with a lot of things on his mind he was finding sleep hard to come by this particular night. Rather than lay there in bed and stare at the ceiling though he ventures out into the night with a warm jacket.

Finding other people besides guards on the battlements was not an unusual thing, but finding Maxwell on his own was. For a time Sam just watches, unsure if he should approach, but at seeing the mug and fidgeting he eventually makes his way over. Clearing his throat only loud enough to be heard, he gives a small smile. "Star gazing tonight?"

He started slightly, straightening and dropping the chain as he looked back. When he saw Sam that was a flash (disappointment?) then he relaxed and shrugged his shoulders as he turned back to the valley.

"As good a night as any for it." He picked up his mug. "You?"

It's not that bright for him to have really seen it, but he sees that there is something up with the man, which has Sam approaching slowly. He hadn't meant to scare the man.

"Couldn't sleep," he says easily, taking up a spot a couple feet away where Maxwell is leaning. "What you drinking?"

"You know, I didn't really catch the name," Maxwell sighed. "But it tastes good."

He reached for the bottle and brought it up on the ledge between them.

"Help yourself. One insomniac to another."

"I'm afraid I didn't bring a mug with me," he mutters, reaching over to grab the drink, mostly to look it over. Max seemed to have gone through a decent amount of it.

"So what's keeping you up?" He's pretty sure it ain't the stars.

He had. Enough to not even be bothered by the way what little remained sloshed noisily as Sam looked it over.

He merely snorted and shook his head, picking up the locket again, playing with it idly.

"I'm not sure there's enough night left to get to it all."

The movement catches Sam's eye, pulling his attention to the locket in Max's hands and away from the little bit of drink in the bottle. He knows that locket - why did Maxwell still have it?

Turning the bottle slowly he sets it back up on the stone between them.

Not enough night? "We got the morning as well," he offers softly.

He was silent for a long moment. He didn't want to talk about it, just having it alone, in his head, was painful enough, to have it out in the open, hanging in the air--

To have to face that it really had happened and it wasn't going to turn out to be a bad dream.

"It's..." He started, stopped, and looked over at Sam. "Surely you've got somewhere else you'd rather be. With someone not whining their troubles at you."

"Sure," he says, looking away from Maxwell to look out over the battlement. "But I don't think I'm welcome there much any more." There had been a decent amount of complaints with it as well.

"All for me tonight is staring at the ceiling in a bed all to myself. I'd much rather spend time with a friend. Even if they seem down about something." Looking back he offers Max a small smile, a bit tired and down looking.

That gave him some pause, expression softening just slightly as he realized what Sam was saying. He offered him a commiserating look, then sighed.

"Gavin and I... we argued. And, suffice, I don't think I'm welcome much any more either."

With a nearly empty bottle, forlorn look, and the locket still in his possession, Sam had guessed something was up. He had hoped be was wrong, but-

Grabbing the bottle by the neck he takes a small swig of the drink. "What did you argue about?"

"You heard about one of the rifters being arrested?" he asked quietly. "An elf mage, Galadriel? Gavin came to me, asking for help in getting her released. I suggested he try and find out why she'd been arrested first, hoping the Inquisition had a good reason for it, and it upset him."

He let out a breath and played with the locket, popping it open and snapping it closed again.

"And it went fairly quickly downhill from there and ended with me as the selfish human he never cared about anyway."

"...Yeaaah?" Sam has met her once so he knows whom Maxwell is speaking of. He's not sure if 'mage' is quite accurate of a description for her considering what little she had said about her kind of magic, but it was probably easier just to call her thus.

Once Maxwell finishes, Sam can only blink, eyes a bit wide and the bottle hanging loosely from his fingers.

After a moment he sighs heavily and hangs his head. "Seriously?" Lifting his head he gives Maxwell a look, not sure how to take all of this. "Exactly what kind of help was he expecting you to give for something like that?"

Edited 2016-03-20 23:26 (UTC)

"I don't know," Maxwell sighed. Reaching over he slipped the bottle out of Sam's hands and took another drink himself. Then he passed it back. "I asked him if he thought I had some sort of influence... expected me to use my name--"

He grimaced, pained to even think about it. After everything, after how much they'd talked about it, how Gavin knew how he felt.

"He just said he came to me because I was his friend."

There was a different sort of wince then. His mouth pulling into deep frown.

Once the bottle is returned Sam takes another drink from it, frowning as well at all this. He's honestly just repeating 'seriously?' in his mind over and over.

This all sounds all too familiar with how Gavin had suddenly showed up asking him for help, but at that time it had been because of Maxwell. Ironic?

"Your friend? So because you wanted to approach the situation more reasonably you suddenly... aren't?"

The more the word was said - friend - the more it stung. The heavier the locket seemed to weigh.

"And here I am, thinking it was something more."

He opened the small silver oval again, touched the small cut of hair inside with his thumb.

"You and me both," he mutters. Considering everything he had honestly thought there was something there.

Once more Sam's eyes are drawn to what Maxwell is doing, ears picking up on the soft click of metal opening.

"How long ago was this?"

"Before the soiree," Maxwell said with a little shake of his head, a roll of his shoulders. "Not long after Galadriel was arrested."

That they hadn't spoken since was unsaid, but was still clear in the way Maxwell's jaw stiffened.

Of course it would be not long after she had been arrested. Gavin had a habit of running around trying to figure things out in a panic, much like the time he had come looking him for advice and help about 'human nobles'.

And now they were here.

Well that explains why Maxwell and Katniss had suddenly gone on that hunting trip right before the soiree had hit.

"... We're getting low on drink here. Want to go to the tavern or should I just grab something and bring it back here?"

What he really wanted, Sam couldn't get for him. So with a breath, he pushed off the battlement and forced a smile. A small, wry thing that had little do with humor.

"I've kept you out in the cold long enough. Least I can do is let you warm up while you tell me now what's got you out here in the bleak hours."

Probably not, but he could certainly try - not right now though.

"I'm Ferelden. I'm used to the cold." Sam returns the small smile, not quite feeling it himself. He can see that Maxwell was trying to change the subject. How familiar this felt.

"We better get a couple bottles for the night then," he says with a sigh, pushing off from the wall and motioning for Maxwell to lead the way.

"It's on me," he said. There was a heartbeat's pause - just the one - than Maxwell tucked the locket back under his collar and stepped toward the stairs. He took the first few steps, then glanced back. "...Thank you, Sam."

"I'll let you buy the first one at least," is his reply when he turns to follow Maxwell down the steps, stopping just short of the first one when the man turns around. "For what? I haven't done anything."

"For listening," Maxwell said simply, shoulders lifting gently. "I haven't spoken about it... I appreciate it."

Coming down the few steps between them, Sam puts a hand on Maxwell's shoulder, gripping it lightly and giving it a small shake. "Any time. I'm always willing to lend an ear." A pause then a shrug. "Unless you're going to sing badly in my ear of course."

"I'll lose your invite to the Queen Madgrial sing-along," Maxwell promised, managing a small, but honest smile.

"You're a good man, Maxwell." He gives his shoulder another small shake at the promise, a small smile pulling at his lips. It must be pretty bad if Maxwell was willing to lose it for him.

He made a sound under his breath and turned away to continue down the stairs and toward the tavern.

He let's Maxwell lead the way, thoughts already getting away from him as he considered something he could do. Besides drink them both under the table of course.

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It was the sweetness of your skin

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