And now I'm looking for a reason why

[dreadinquisitor]

WHO: Maxwell Trevean and Gavin Ashara
WHAT: Goodbyes before taking off their respective missions
WHEN: Back from the Mire, before the next round of missions
WHERE: Herald's Rest
NOTES: N/a.

Maxwell knew his time at Skyhold would be short lived, he'd already received word about Lord Kildarn's request for aid and they would be shipping out for northern Ferelden soon. But, however momentary it might be, it was good be back at the castle. Out of the muck and rain of the mire, back in the sun and fresh breeze. Back where the liquor didn't come out of unlabeled bottles pulled from the mud and the food didn't look like it might slither off his plate at any moment.

The mission would come soon enough. And before he left, he'd need to finally reply to his mother's missive. Somehow.

But first, it was time for some indulgence at the Herald's Rest, at his favorite table on the second floor behind the stairs.

Comments

[dreadinquisitor]

Maxwell's eyes widened slightly in mild horror at the very thought, but so to did he chuckle softly as he shook his head.

"I'm fairly certain there are easier, less painful, ways of achieving that." He reached across to give one of Gavin's wild, coppery bangs a playful tug. "Lock's of hair are traditional."

[slipshot]

Gavin grinned, chuckled as his eyes crossed slightly, trying to look at Maxwell's hand. The faintest edge of a blush at the tips of his ears.

"Hair? Are you sure that easier and less painful is the point?" He teased, before pulling back to rummage at his side for a minute, before pulling out his knife.

[dreadinquisitor]

"I don't find the idea of someone I care about in pain, especially because of me, appealing," Maxwell replied softly, honestly, rubbing the strand of hair between his fingers before slowly withdrawing.

He spotted the blade a moment later and his heart skipped.

"...Not that you have to do anything, if you don't want to..."

[slipshot]

Maxwell's soft murmur made Gavin's flush spread further, but he pretended that he either hadn't heard, or wasn't paying attention, and merely pulled the blade up, grabbed the tip of one of the locks of hair - and with a very quick movement swiped the sharp blade above where he was holding.

He brought the lock down - not too large, just a little longer than the width of a silver piece, and held it out.

"Now, what? If you just carry it around like this you're going to lose it all over the place."

[dreadinquisitor]

Warmth knotted in Maxwell's throat, forcing him to swallow thickly before he could speak. Before he could reach out and - almost hesitantly, as if Gavin didn't really mean it for him - and take it.

"...Lockets are popular. I don't--" He flushed slightly, wishing more than anything in that moment he could say he had one. "But-- The Mire is known summer stone and blue vitriol, if you see any... I'm sure I could come up with something."

He twirled the lock gently and ran it between his fingers.

"A vial, might do in the meantime."

[slipshot]

The look on Maxwell's face was entirely worth the price of admission, and Gavin's feet kicked quietly against themselves just above the floor.

"I don't generally carry lockets around with me, no," He admitted, his smile still wide, his ears a healthy red.

"But I'm sure I can come up with something. In the meantime, if you lose that, I can always replace it. Luckily hair, unlike fingers, comes with an endless supply."

[dreadinquisitor]

Maxwell smoothed the strand gently, then reached down to his belt to slip it into a pouch for safe keeping until he could find a vial. (Maybe a stop by one of his mage friends? An empty lyrium bottle?)

"I don't expect we'll be in Ferelden that long, so take care of yourself, and I'll be here when you get back to Skyhold." He turned back, looking a little hopeful. "If you're back in time, we could celebrate the holiday together..."

[slipshot]

"Sure," Gavin replied immediately, perhaps a little too quickly, beaming.

"I don't think we're supposed to be gone too long either. I'll come find you as soon as I get back."

[dreadinquisitor]

Maxwell beamed, a simple, easy joy brought forth by Gavin's reply.

"Good." Flushing handsomely, he returned to his pie, scooping another forkful. "I look forward to it."

[slipshot]

Gavin let them fall into an easy, companionable, warm silence; as he watched Maxwell eat and ever so often leaned in to take a piece of meat. He was still kicking his (bare) feet, before starting to teasingly nudge at Maxwell's ankles with his toes.

[dreadinquisitor]

His eyes flicked up, cheek moving and bulging as he chewed, the corners of his mouth dragging ever upward. A dimple flashed.

He didn't say anything, didn't stop eating, but his leg did move. Stretching out to brace the toe of his boot against Gavin's bench. Giving him all the room and access he could want to tap and poke and press.

[slipshot]

He didn't let himself think about it. He didn't even want to. The ever pervasive doubt and darkness was pushed back, for a few minutes, and Gavin just let himself enjoy the gentle brush of his toe against Maxwell's ankle.

"So how do you normally celebrate?" He asked in a quieter voice, smiling.

[dreadinquisitor]

Maxwell continued to smile, even though the question immediately brought up thoughts of home and his parents.

"Actually, I'm looking forward to some new traditions this year," he said instead.

[slipshot]

"I'm sure we could come up with something," Gavin said, not noticing his faux pas. "I've never been good at traditions myself, so perhaps it's just best if I wing it."

His toes teasingly pulled at the hem of Maxwell's pant leg, brushing at the bare skin of the ankle beneath.

[dreadinquisitor]

"It'll be nice to be with people who really want to be there just to be there," Maxwell replied, pausing only slightly when his pantleg tickled up his ankle, a tingle racing up along his spine. "That'll be my gift this year."

[slipshot]

"So sentimental," Gavin teased, offering him a lopsided grin as he tickled at Maxwell's ankle with his toes. "I'm sure I can find you a better gift than that. And I can probably do it without setting too many things on fire."

[dreadinquisitor]

Maxwell laughed and swayed his leg to bump Gavin's foot lightly.

"I would appreciate that, that's all. By all means, feel free to spoil me all you like."

[slipshot]

"Now I have to figure out what exactly would spoil you," He murmured, thoughtfully, but the grin hadn't disappeared.

"You could always give me a hint as to what you'd like," He teased, toes twitching, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I wouldn't want to surprise you with something you wouldn't appreciate, after all. I am to please."

[dreadinquisitor]

"I should think it fairly obvious," Maxwell murmured, glancing across at Gavin over his fork. Their eyes held a moment, then his lips twitched and he quickly filled his mouth.

After he'd chewed and swallowed, he said, "What about you though? Ser Mysterious and Worldly, what could you possibly want?"

[slipshot]

That look definitely made him pause for a heartbeat - two - but he caught himself quickly, relegating the reaction to only the slight reddening of his ears.

"Oh, I don't know," he cooed lowly. "I think I might already have it."

[dreadinquisitor]

Maxwell snorted, hunching slightly over his bowl. Mouth pulling hard to one side - the dimple flashing again - he looked up with a shake of his head.

"Aren't we a pair?"

(And it made his heart thump, warmth spreading across his chest.)