(no subject)

[blightedson]

WHO: Felix and OPEN
WHAT: A couple of prompts for people who wanted to interact with Felix.
WHEN: The days after the funeral
WHERE: Throughout Skyhold
NOTES: Mentions of death or dying, otherwise it should be okay. Also, please remember the general public doesn't know he has the Blight, they just know that he's dying 'of an illness.'

[Personal Quarters]

Felix spends most of his time in the quarters assigned to him. Some days he finds it hard to walk around much, as the dizziness gets to him. Healers are welcome, as are servants and friends. He keeps the place very clean, worried that somehow the treatments will stop working. He knows the Inquisition is taking a risk having him here and he does everything he can to stop the possibility of spreading the Blight. That includes staying tidy and burning sheets after a fever.

It also means cutting his own hair. The problem is that he has issues holding his arms up for that long. They start to tire and he gives up making the cuts straight or even. He's not trying to make a fashion statement, after all.

[Library]

When he is out of his room, he spends most of his time in the library. Obviously, part of that is that Dorian is there. Being around his friend feels like the way he wants to spend his last days. He had thought going home and trying to help the cause of the Inquisition would have been important, but this feels more right personally.

When Dorian isn't around, he spends his time reading. He enjoys learning about Southern history and can also be seen pouring over any new mathematical theories. It makes him realize how much he misses going to university.

[Garden]

Sometimes he's told he needs to 'get fresh air' and that prompts him to go out and sit at the garden. It's still so lovely to see what a well placed hot spring can do even in the middle of a frozen mountain. The air is still thin and frigid, nothing like what he might have back home, but there's something wonderful about the peace that one can find surrounded by the right amount of trees.

Comments

personal quarters.

[liberalum]

You cut your own hair, don't you?

The realisation had come somewhat late, and Dorian's sheer irritation at this fact was probably disproportionate, as if personally offended at the evidence of uneven scrapes of bristle, but more annoyed at himself for having not thought of it. Yes, he'd gotten used to not having attendants bathing him, dressing him, grooming him, but he's had years to grow accustomed to his own independence, and he's not dying of anything.

So it leads them here. Felix is sat on a chair, with a blanket swept up close around his neck, and Dorian has a comb and a razor and some soap he's managed to squeeze out of the luxury rations, and is seeing to the back of his friend's neck.

He slaps the back of Felix's skull with the comb.

"Chin down," he reminds him.

Friendship.

The familiarity is one of years. Long years. A paradox of being educated enough (and careful enough) to not be afraid of catching Blightiness off of Felix, while still paying attention to the measures they go through, of hair cropped close to the scalp, nail clippings swept into the fireplace, rank sheets burned. It's all very tiresome, and Dorian takes even more care not to show it, lest it be misconstrued.

[blightedson]

Felix smiles despite himself and angles his head down. The fact that Dorian is tending to him again makes him feel an odd mixture of emotions. There's the sense of friendship, of course, and appreciation for the attention. There's also a mixture of guilt over being fussed over and an odd amount of regret over what might have been had he not been sickened.

For now, though, he keeps his head tilted down. He doesn't want to make it more difficult for his friend.

"Try to avoid the urge to shave inappropriate designs into the back of my head." He knows that Dorian wouldn't do that so it's more a tease than anything.

[liberalum]

Dorian permits himself a laugh at that, thin between his teeth and sounding a little like it has to be forced past such obstacles as his heart squeezing in his chest. That, and the concentration necessary not to let his hands slip.

"That would rather defeat the purpose of today's little venture, now wouldn't it. I still have to be seen with you, you know." He lapses back into quiet, ridding blade of hair into the cloth they'll have burned. "I remember when you wore it longer. You were about as negligent with a comb as you were with this razor. Even good looking noblemen have to rise to the occasion. I should know."

[blightedson]

Felix smiles at that. Dorian had always been much better at grooming and self care than he was. While both of them could get carried away with their studies, he was the one to forget to bathe in the process.

"I'll try to keep that in mind," he offered. "But I cannot make any sort of promise." He just didn't really consider himself to be that terribly good looking, especially not when up against Dorian.