OPEN | We're all told to dance but we never pick the tune

[pinprick]

WHO: Nathaniel Howe and YOU
WHAT: Open log
WHEN: Wintermarch and Guardian
WHERE: The Kestrel House & Camp Shady
NOTES: Reading aloud of bad smutty romance novel.

Camp Shady

It's proper winter, which is aggravating the crap out of Nathaniel's rheumatism. On good days, he can practice with weapons. On bad days, he is wrapped up in layers of blankets and writing or drawing with a grimace on his face. Every day he reads reports from Warden scouts, scouring the world for signs of the Architect. Most leads become dead ends.

The Kestrel House

On one truly abysmal day, Nathaniel doesn't get out of bed. Every movement creates agony. He stays in the barracks wing with curtains drawn around the bed he and Anders share, sometimes rolling out to make tea at the fire. He is very pale to anyone who sees him, but makes no sound or complaint.

Closed to Anders

At the end of one of the bad days, Anders arrives back at the Kestrel House to find Nathaniel inside, working on a drawing. He glances up and gestures for him to come closer.

"I've something to show you."

Comments

[justice_is_blond]

"Mm. Let me consider this." Anders opens Nate's tunic up before giving his chest a critical look. He lets the moment linger as the corner of his mouth quirks up despite his efforts to keep a straight face, and then he's shaking his head.

"They've always seemed rather perfect to me. Then again, all of you has seemed rather perfect to me, and I've never thought small or large was a deterrent to enjoying one's self. This qunari is an idiot who doesn't know that it's about how one uses what they have is what matters." He leans down to press a chaste kiss to Nate's collarbone.

"Mm, sorry, did I do that wrong? Should I have torn your tunic? Tell you how my pleasure last night was all the better due to how you're shaped?"