Open w/Closed to Adalia

[writteninblood]

WHO: Sorrel Prompts (with closed to Adalia)
WHAT: Sorrel at work (feat Adalia)
WHEN: Vaguely May
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Sorrel and Adalia have a conversation, and also do tattoos

Closed to Adalia | 1
Sorrel found Adalia in the afternoon. It'd been a long day, though they all seemed long-- longer every time he considered it. When there was so much to do, you moved from one to the next, and the day behind you stretched out like a string of beads, filled with tedious, uncertain things. Nobody knew what would happen next. More accurately, Sorrel didn't.

But she'd asked him, to come see her, when he could. And, like the fool he was, he'd half-forgotten. Now he had gone looking, and poked his head in on her work.

"Adalia? You wanted to ask me something?"




Open | 2
Sorrel considered the rubbing in front of him for the fiftieth time-- for what felt more like the fifty-thousandth time. It was elven, that much was clear, more accurately elvhen, older than the Dales, older than anything, something left over from Arlathan, maybe. Or maybe not.

"Or maybe it's just a bunch of squiggles and no one can tell the difference," He mutters, to the quiet emptiness of his office. It's late, more than late, but these things don't translate themselves, do they? In this case, he has to admit, they don't translate at all, "This is why everyone says we're illiterate bumpkins. Don't even have a whole fucking language, just this..."

Sorrel sighs again, and puts it aside for hopeless.

Comments

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

Adasse got all the food gathered up, and then offered his hand to Sorrel. When he got like this, Adasse knew the only thing he could do was be here for his lover. Sorrel was tearing himself apart inside to make all this work and Adasse knew that there were going to be times like this where all he could do was hold on. As tight as he could.

He quirks a half smile, "Don't tell any humans that. They might start getting ideas about us city elves. Like we should get formal education, or something."

[writteninblood]

"Ha," Sorrel gives him the satisfaction of a well-received joke, and takes the offered hand, letting Adasse bring him closer, stepping into his grasp with only a little guilt, "You do deserve a formal education. Or at least someone could teach you manners."

An insult delivered with all the fierce, stern rancor of I love you. Sorrel leans his weight into Adasse's shoulder momentarily, to seal in the sentiment; something like a playful shove, but that it goes on for too long, and too fondly.

"You want to learn another word? Last one for tonight."