faderift | Honey, I'm Home [ Open ]

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Honey, I'm Home [ Open ]

WHO: Kirk & The Good People of Kirkwall
WHAT: Kirk has been away for a month, and now he's back!
WHEN: First few days of Harvestmere
WHERE: Around Kirkwall
NOTES: Probably some couple cuteness

What, No Parade? - The Streets
Kirkwall might have been treated to the site of a man crying in relief if Kirk wasn't quite so good at holding such emotion in. It honestly wasn't that anything particularly horrible had happened on his little trip, he was just so happy to be back in Kirkwall of all places (most likely due to the fact a certain mage and a certain extra-large size red haired rifter).

So he kept it together as Atlas picked his way through the crowd, surprisingly delicate despite his burden of a weary man, full saddle bags, and a much larger pack bearing down his rump. One that was apparently not tied to very well - as folded pieces of thick, blue colored cloth (or, jeans to some of you Rifters) kept falling out, creating a blue breadcrumb trail behind him.

Unpacking - The Barn
Kirk shook his head with a short yelp, smacking at his ragged locks to try and get out the horse snot from them. He glared at Atlas, who remained unconcerned with his faux pas and more concerned with getting back to his stall. Kirk didn't blame him. They had been riding all day - though Atlas did more work than he did in that regard.

"I'll get you in there, but we have to get you cleaned up first," he whumped as he dumped saddle and bags on his tack box.

From there he worked on rubbing Atlas down and taking him out to give him a wash, sluicing off days worth of dirty and mud - which naturally meant he got wet too, and shoved around a bit because Atlas was an impatient gentle giant when he wished to be. Especially with the promise of warm oats and a soft hay bed mere meters away.

Homecooking - Tavern
What's a good home coming with a taste of the home town beer? It's not one, that's what. When he has a chance, he makes his way to the tavern to take himself up a drink and greet those loose acquaintances that might edge just on the verge of friends.

He took up a place at a table, full of laughter, his hand wrapped as it usually was in bandages to hide his shard, to hide his otherness. Of course he had noticed the tensions upon his return, that slight tightness from those people whom knew he was a Rifter. He had never revealed that in the taverns though, the better to avoid a fight, so for the moment all was well.

Being home meant back to business as usual, telling his "tall tales" and teaching everyone new card games - Black Jack is perfectly innocent. So is poker. No really. Totally innocent.

Bills Piled Up - Library
It wasn't all play when he got back. His job might be over for the moment, but being on the road so long, being in charge of someone's education for that long, had made some things begin to turn in his mind. He was not sure he could find the resources, but he would damn well try as best he could with what he had. He hoped he had taught his charge something more than just math and theories.

Now he hoped to teach others.

Which was why he could be found in the library, scouring over books, scribbling in his own journals, fingers stained black with the ink and the tip of his quill ragged from gnawing. Though one might at first thing he was building a fortress, given the height of the stacks, and the mumbling that came from behind them.

"No, no, that's to complicated an explanation, need to simplify...."

It's A Party - Wildcard
Have another idea? Bring it!

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Normally in Kirkwall you found the weird pants in barrels. They were torn, or moth-eaten, or heavily worn, but that was where some people left them for Maker knows what reason. You didn't find rough blue ones in the streets. Many of the natives were steering clear of the weird fabric; weird could mean rift, here, and in this case Anders would agree with that part of the assessment. He could even almost agree with steering clear and avoiding, until he saw who was leaving them everywhere.

"You're leaking, James," he called out as he picked up a pair.

Kirk started a fraction at hearing his name, so used to being called Kirk these past weeks, or Mr. Kirk (thankfully his young charge had relented on the formality after a bit). He turned to see who had called, spotting both Anders and the falling jeans in the same glance.

"Hah, it wouldn't be the first time this journey," he dismounted and winced as he hit the dirt - sometimes having such a large horse wasn't a blessing. "I hope I haven't lost to many of them. I doubt I'd be able to find more." He walked towards Anders, rubbing the small of his back and grinning.

"How've you been, stranger?"

Kirk was coming home; that was what he said on the crystal, but there hadn't been an exact day given - not that Sam had exactly thought about asking about that particular detail either. So for all he knew it would be soon - could be tomorrow or maybe a week, give or take - but the important part was that Jim was going to be home.

Even if for the better part of the month the two of them had been exchanging calls over the crystals, it didn't substitute the Rifter's physical presence. So, yes, he had been lonely to some extent - even though he had said he wasn't terribly so to Jim over their conversations. It was perhaps because of this that Sam had found himself tidying up the house, half because he needed something to keep his mind occupied and the other half being that after a long trip the house should feel more... welcoming - if that was possible.

At some point though, after a good amount of the house had been organized, the mage found himself resting on the sofa. Just to get off his feet, just for a moment, taking a breather from the work he had done for the day - putting some time in during the morning for the forge and then housework. It was not at all his intention to fall asleep, snoring lightly near the fire.

Edited 2017-10-09 05:37 (UTC)

Kirk wanted to rush home the moment he passed through the gates of Kirkwall. It had taken far more strength than he thought he'd possessed to go to the stables first and see to Atlas. Well, all right, not quite that much because he wasn't going to neglect his animal to satisfy his own needs, but it did make him impatient and antsy to be sure.

He ran the last few steps to his house, quickly working open the door and only just remembering to take off his muddied shoes and cloak. A sound followed him, a quiet click of heels and a soft whine. He shushes and leaned down, picking up a ball of white and walking in his soaks on sore feet across the floors, looking for Sam.

Thankfully, he wasn't hard to spot. Silly mage, sleeping on the couch? Had he been waiting up or something for him? Kirk grinned at that, coming closer and leaning over the dark hair, reaching out to brush his fingers through it as he placed the white ball down on the open space on the couch.

"Samouel, I'm home," he whispered, at which point Sam might begin to feel something went around his chin and cheeks, very like the tongue of a dog (which would be because it was. A tiny, white puppy, speckled with black).

'James' is a common enough name in Thedas. Kirk is not. While normally he uses the latter, Anders is not about to shout it in the middle of a city that's feeling more on edge about Rifters.

The wince gets an eyebrow raise, though. "Judging by that expression, probably better than you. Are you doing all right? I'm not going to heal you out here since it's clearly not life-threatening, but I can at least head toward the Gallows with you and help there."

Magic in the streets would be a bad idea.

The movement on the couch has Sam shifting, snoring immediately cutting off as wets his lips, brows furrowing momentarily. After a moment, his lips curl; the whisper of his name, a touch on his head, and the press of paws on his chest in the real world have clearly transformed into something in his head as he sleeps. With a content sigh the mages mutters something on his breath. "Jim."

The smile upon his lips widen slightly when he feels a sensation on his face, but all too quickly his expression warps again, frowning when said sensation becomes entirely too wet. Not that he's unfamiliar with wet dreams, but generally he would imagine that kind of enthusiastic licking much lower-

And suddenly there is a bark, just a small one, but it's enough to jerk the mage awake and pull his mind out of the Fade where his senses were influencing... something.

Sam clearly looks startled as his eyes snap open, only half way though, not completely out of the haze of sleep. "What-"

If the bloke hadn't been wearing the distinctive pin of the Inquisition ...

Sigh.

Adasse whistled sharply at the eager thieves going to move on this bloke who was literally dripping merchandise, one hand going to his blade. They glowered at him, but backed off. The smaller urchins who just looked like they were going for clean clothes got some coins pressed in their palms as Adasse left his comfortable perch, and nodded towards one of the kindlier merchants to buy their clothes fresh, not stolen.

Then he patiently gathered up the ... weird pants and called out, "Serah, your bundle's fallen open!"

And he will now wait for the probable elf insult - which will make him drop the bundle and walk away ....

Kirk turned at the call, not sure if it actually meant him or not given the area. He didn't think his appearance would command much respect given how mud splattered he was. Roads in Thedas weren't known for being kind in the rain or after it.

He glanced to the back of his horse and groaned when he noticed what the elf had pointed out. Cherry on top.

With a huff he dismounted, shuddering as his feet hit dirt. "Ah, thanks for that. I wouldn't have noticed anything til I hit the stables!"

Oh, well look at that. Polite and everything, despite all the mud splatter. For that, he gets a charming smile and Adasse making sure the garments are brushed off as he hands them over.

"Not a problem, serah. Looks like you've had a hard ride of it." He leans in as he whispers, "Might want to secure them a little more firmly - wandering eyes and hands have been following you all down the street."

"Aren't they always?" He quipped. Kirk blended in as a native well enough when he kept his shard hand beneath a glove and bandages, but some people just knew, like he carried himself differently, talked a little funnier.

"You want a pair?" Kirk asked, holding up the denim which except for the dust didn't seem all that worse for wear. He had never intended on selling them, mostly because he didn't think anyone but a Rifter would know what they are.

"And enough of the serah stuff. Just call me Jim."

"In Kirkwall? Usually the safest bet to assume so." Adasse grinned as he held onto the stack until Jim took them from him ... and then offered one to Adasse in turn.

Adasse held them up, eying them. "... seem, awfully stiff like. Can you climb in these proper?"

"Depends on what you're climbing," he shrugged. "But they won't get caught and torn as easy as anything you've got on, I bet. They move well with the body once on and broken in a bit."

All right, so maybe he wanted to offload a few of them because what else was he really going to do with a literally box full of jeans? He had picked out pairs for himself, Sam, and a few others already and the rest were basically gifts at this gift.

"Where I'm from people work all day in them just fine. They're the pant of choice."

"Buildings. Market stalls. Walls. Usually at full speed." He pulled on them, nodding with approval at the toughness of the fabric. "All right, thanks. I can use me a pair. You're very kind ... Jim."

And you've earned yourself another crooked, charming smile, Jim. Good work.

Kirk flashed one back, working to stuff the remaineder back into the sack across Atlas' rump. Atlas heaved a sigh, perhaps wondering at the delay when home was so close. Kirk knew the feeling, giving his haunch a comforting pat.

"Seems fair since you warned me I was leaking," he said to the elf. "One good turn deserves another, as they say. Though I never got your name."

Well now there's something he hasn't seen in awhile. And no, not just Kirk.

Prompto nearly trips over a pair of pants while he's on his way back to the gallows. He grouses as he looks around for the offending object. And lo and behold, jeans. He blinks, picking up the pair in rapt attention. "Wowza. I didn't think they..."

Then he spots another in the distance. Then another. What in the name of the Six....?

So off he goes, collecting jeans as he follows the bread crumb trail. Eventually he catches up to Kirk. Though his arms are full, he manages to shift the pants around enough for him to bring his fingers to his lips and whistle. "Hey, you've sprung a leak!"

Well look at that, handsome human fellow smiling at him in turn. He was all right with that, yes he was. So his shrug was a casual one, and he even hooked his fingers into his belt after he dropped the new and strange trousers on his shoulder.

An offered handclasp, dark eyes bright. "Adasse Agassi, Jim. But like returns like - just call me Adasse."

"Nice to meet you, Adasse," he said, trying to pronounce the name as the elf had. Kirk took the offered hand and gave a firm clasp - not aggressive by any means, but certainly not shying away from Adasse's touch.

"Ah, just so you know, those don't lace up. They use a zipper," he nodded at the pants. "Don't leave it down to you'll be flashing everyone - and you don't want your bits dropping out when you're running."

He certainly did enough of it to know the truth of that. What an inglorious way to die - caught because your junk banged against a rock.

Adasse may have mouthed it back at him, just a little, and the hand clasp was carefully judged. Once he got his hand back with a delightfully firm grip that was not at all predatory, he felt more comfortable edging a bit more into Jim's space.

"...interesting. And. Well. No I do not. Don't mind them being out when it's necessary or fun, but otherwise they ought to stay well put."

When Cyril sees James, he can't help but feel a bit of relief. Sam and Iskandar are going to be so pleased to see him. He comes up to where he's tending to Atlas and smiles.

"Need help?" he asks. He knows how to tend to animals from working with his Clan, but mostly he wants to look over Kirk and make sure he's still in one piece.

No, probably for the best. Even Kirk is no fool. He looks Thedasian enough at the moment, his shard covered and dressed as they were, but there was a certain taste of tension in the air.

"Just been riding for a long while. My back is sore from the road," he groaned, rubbing the small and smiling gratefully at Anders. He still wasn't one hundred percent happy with magic (not for fear, he just still disliked not quite understanding how it really worked), but he wasn't going to decline the help. It would be faster and easier than waiting for a bath to soak the pain out.

"I'll take you up on that, but I need to settle Atlas first." He paused, glancing at one of the packs. "Do you mind if I bring Jaylah to the Gallows?"

Oh? How curious, Samouel. Curious indeed. He laughed a little, watching that, wondering what it was Sam saw in his head to make him call his name, though it warmed him. Sam had missed him hadn't he? Well, they said as much to each other, but it was nice to have the proof of it.

The puppy yipped, fluffy tail brushing back and forth rapidly. She leaned in, licking at Sam again, one paw resting on his chest to balance herself.

"Jaylah says good morning, sleepy head," Kirk smiled.

Thankfully, personal space had never been much of a concern for Kirk. Certainly he didn't mind to very much from Adasse, even if he did angle his hips were so slightly so that it would be just that much harder to reach around to his back pockets. Not that he thought all elves were thieves, but most people don't talk about needing to run over roofs and market stalls.

"Oh, they'll keep them in," he chuckled. "Just be sure to zip." He reached out, grasping the bit of metal at what would be considered the front of the pant and forcing it down with a quiet 'hizzp' sound and then back up. "See? Easy."

Kirk lifted his head, even the excitement of finally being home not quite enough to fully energize him. He looked back to the sound of someone maybe addressing him, perking up when he realized who it was.

"Prompto!" he called back, halting Atlas and working his way off the saddle. He hit the dirt and had to take a step to steady himself, legs sore from the day's ride - many days, in fact. "Good to see you! It's been - what, a month now, right?"

"Cyril," Kirk said warmly when he spotted the elf, having to come around Atlas to do so. There were disadvantages to having such a massive horse from time to time.

Atlas' ears perked forward, curious to the new scent, but otherwise seemed more concerned with getting to his stall. Kirk gripped at the soft of Atlas' upper lip, twitching him for a moment, and the horse relaxed enough for Kirk to focus more on his housemate.

"I'm finishing up, but maybe you can get him some oats ready?" Kirk asked. "I'm afraid he'll have a tantrum if they're not in there right off."

As he starts to wake up more fully, Sam finds it hard to focus on just one thing. First it's the presence on his chest, currently assaulting his face with it's tongue, and then it's the physical presence of his roommate/lover, not just his voice through a crystal. It's clear, by the way his eyes widen upon seeing Jim, that he is surprised and a bit overwhelmed that the man was finally home, but not exactly in a position to act upon that; after all there was a ball of fluff vying for his attention.

"Jaylah-?" he asks uncertainly, which only seems to excite the pup into licking at him more. Sputtering and raising a hand to block his face as he sits up higher, Sam blinks at the dog in his lap. "... you brought home a dog?"

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Honey, I'm Home [ Open ]

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Wildcard - Welcome Home

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Streets

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Barn

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