Aleron Darton (
lifeofendurance) wrote in
faderift2016-07-03 10:17 pm
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[OPEN] Long Was His Silence
WHO: Aleron Darton and YOU
WHAT: Pre-Orlais Catchall for July
WHEN: Start of Solace up until it's time to head out.
WHERE: Skyhold, various
NOTES: If any of these don't work, feel free to wildcard or PM me for a starter. Prose or Brackets a-ok, I'll tag to preference.
WHAT: Pre-Orlais Catchall for July
WHEN: Start of Solace up until it's time to head out.
WHERE: Skyhold, various
NOTES: If any of these don't work, feel free to wildcard or PM me for a starter. Prose or Brackets a-ok, I'll tag to preference.
Aleron is nothing if not a creature of habit. There are reasons his twin has heckled him all their lives about how dull he is; he's not loud, excitable, or given to doing things which are not part of his daily routine.
Morning and evening, he may be found in the Chapel attending to his devotions. At least an hour upon rising, and before sleep, is spent in prayer. Following his attention to matters of the spirit, he then attends to honing of physical training. Where the training ring has been set up in the Courtyard, he works through sword and footwork forms, old and sometimes new. Just prior to lunch, he visits the Stables to see how Valiente fares. Taking the horse out for a ride isn't all that out of the ordinary. However, almost every outing takes him the direction of the Warden's Camp. That destination in itself is a deviation from his routine, but a sharp eye might notice that he never fails to travel there without either a book, a basket lunch, or a handful of wildflowers.
Of an afternoon, he's easily found in the Library, engrossed in research of some variety or another, or enjoying casual reading of wholesome volumes such as The Sermons of Divine Hortensia III. Sometimes he can be observed attending to his correspondence, though there too is an oddity. For a change, each letter received is read, though it can be discerned from his facial expression that he's dreading some of them. Usually those sealed with a ram's head on green. Evenings before vespers, he sits quietly in the Herald's Rest. He never indulges in more than a single ale and listens with quiet appreciation to the music and conversation around him. The Seeker still hasn't quite worked up to initiating social interactions, though he welcomes others who opt to join him and break up his solitude.
Camp Shady Fucker
That particular day though, she's not heading out empty-handed. She's got her satchel, and the smells coming from it are baked, and she's been working very devoutly on her knitting the past few evenings. She walks out to meet him, Gamlen barking at her heels, her eyes bright and her dimpled smile just for him.
"Well hello there, Aleron. Fancy seeing you." As if she did not see him now every day. She still fancied it though.
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Both feet on the ground, and cranky horse reined in, Aleron is sporting the faint traces of a boyish smile. He's been here every day at the same time and he still worries that Bethany will be too busy to see him. Or no longer interested. Decades of feeling unwanted has done a hell of a job on the man's sense of self-worth and even now he has hesitant doubts that this will come tumbling down around him. Her smile and greeting put those fears out of mind forgotten.
"Good morning." It's still morning for a few more minutes. Like an awkward teen drunk on the rush a first crush, he holds out the wildflowers for the taking. "For you, my lady."
The scents coming from her satchel are distracting and of a delicious variety. "What smells so good?"
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Just look at that. That's for me. She felt warmth flooding out of her, her brown eyes soft as she moved towards him and the horse.
"Good morning to you." She looked at the wildflowers, breathed out a quick 'Oh!' before she took them in both of her hands and breathed them in. "Oh, Aleron, they're beautiful. Thank you." As she had taken the habit of doing, she plucked one out and put it in her hair. As his glance moved to the satchel, so did hers, and she beamed.
"One delightful gift deserves another." She reached into her bag and pulled out a cloth wrapped bundle, handing it over, "Fruit tarts - had to do a fair bit of bartering to get them and... I wasn't quite sure which kind you liked best? So I made them all."
She bit her bottom lip, "Too much?"
no subject
He's very interested in these fruit tarts and takes the bundle from her with a bob of his head. Certainly it's a lot of baked goods, but he's an active fellow and he won't have the slightest problem polishing them off. If he's feeling generous, he might consider sharing with Malcolm and Cassandra. But probably not. If there is any problem he sees in this, it's that she's gone to so much trouble on his account. "Not at all, I will enjoy each and every one. Anything you've had a hand in making is the kind I like best."
After giving the bundle another look and an appreciative sniff, he has something of an idea. "Are you free to go for a ride? I've had a beautiful woman baking for me and I thought we could make a picnic of it." He'd meant to invite her out for the ride by the river, and packed a light lunch in his saddlebags for the trip back in the afternoon. Turning it into a picnic provides him an opportunity to extend his time with her today. Which he's more than eager to do.
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No matter the cost, for that kind of look, and that kind of compliment. Then her entire expression lights up at his idea, "Oh, could we?" Then she flushed again. "Beautiful, oh, Maker ... "
She tucked her hair behind her ear, giving him a shy but pleased smile, "I would love to go on a ride with you. Just about anywhere, honestly." She moved forward to take his other hand, giving it a squeeze.
no subject
Once he fully realizes he's not moved an inch, Aleron clears his throat and mumbles, "Pardon me, just one moment."
He places the tarts into the saddlebags with such care one would think he were handling priceless porcelain dishes. Once he's satisfied they will not get squished in any way, he swings back into the saddle and holds out a hand to help hoist Bethany up behind him.
It hasn't quite occurred to him that he's about to be treated to her needing to hold on to him for the duration of the ride. The man does not have enough guile to have planned that.
no subject
She steps back, to let him settle things, folding her hands around her bouquet. Maker, was this how it was supposed to feel like? This mixture of shy awkwardness and pure bliss. She sighs as he slips onto his horse, easy as you please, before she turns to Gamlen. "Right, back on home with you. I shall bring you treats later."
Gamlen whines, but trots on back towards the camp, and she shakes her head. Honestly, the pitiful look is half of why she named him after her uncle ...
Turning back around, she dimples up at him before taking his hand and pullling herself upwards, swinging her leg over the horse easily. She tucks her flowers into her sash, and then wraps both arms around his waist. He might not have enough guile -- but Bethany was going to enjoy squeezing him like this.
"All right, I'm settled."