It was the sweetness of your skin

[dreadinquisitor]

WHO: Maxwell and Sam
WHAT: boys though, what up with that?
WHEN: After the ball.
WHERE: Battlements, night
NOTES: Heartbreak and whining there of.

It had been some time since their fight, but still Maxwell hadn't spoken to Gavin. He had almost, at the Ball. He'd seen him and he had wanted to, but by the time he'd crossed through the crowd, Gavin had already been gone, out on the dance floor. Heart sinking, he'd slipped away... and he had stayed away since.

He'd been reminded of how different they were - elf and human, free and not - and there seemed to be little point in trying to pretend otherwise any longer.

He wanted to ask Korrin if she had anymore of that terrible Qunari brew stocked away, but he didn't wish to trouble her. So he settled for a bottle honeyed ale and the quiet of the battlements.

It was just him, the moon, and the mountains.

The ale and the gentle slide of the locket on its chain as he toyed with it.

A memento of his foolishness.

Comments

[el_tybs]

Of course it would be not long after she had been arrested. Gavin had a habit of running around trying to figure things out in a panic, much like the time he had come looking him for advice and help about 'human nobles'.

And now they were here.

Well that explains why Maxwell and Katniss had suddenly gone on that hunting trip right before the soiree had hit.

"... We're getting low on drink here. Want to go to the tavern or should I just grab something and bring it back here?"

[dreadinquisitor]

What he really wanted, Sam couldn't get for him. So with a breath, he pushed off the battlement and forced a smile. A small, wry thing that had little do with humor.

"I've kept you out in the cold long enough. Least I can do is let you warm up while you tell me now what's got you out here in the bleak hours."

[el_tybs]

Probably not, but he could certainly try - not right now though.

"I'm Ferelden. I'm used to the cold." Sam returns the small smile, not quite feeling it himself. He can see that Maxwell was trying to change the subject. How familiar this felt.

"We better get a couple bottles for the night then," he says with a sigh, pushing off from the wall and motioning for Maxwell to lead the way.

[dreadinquisitor]

"It's on me," he said. There was a heartbeat's pause - just the one - than Maxwell tucked the locket back under his collar and stepped toward the stairs. He took the first few steps, then glanced back. "...Thank you, Sam."

[el_tybs]

"I'll let you buy the first one at least," is his reply when he turns to follow Maxwell down the steps, stopping just short of the first one when the man turns around. "For what? I haven't done anything."

[dreadinquisitor]

"For listening," Maxwell said simply, shoulders lifting gently. "I haven't spoken about it... I appreciate it."

[el_tybs]

Coming down the few steps between them, Sam puts a hand on Maxwell's shoulder, gripping it lightly and giving it a small shake. "Any time. I'm always willing to lend an ear." A pause then a shrug. "Unless you're going to sing badly in my ear of course."

[dreadinquisitor]

"I'll lose your invite to the Queen Madgrial sing-along," Maxwell promised, managing a small, but honest smile.

[el_tybs]

"You're a good man, Maxwell." He gives his shoulder another small shake at the promise, a small smile pulling at his lips. It must be pretty bad if Maxwell was willing to lose it for him.

[dreadinquisitor]

He made a sound under his breath and turned away to continue down the stairs and toward the tavern.

[el_tybs]

He let's Maxwell lead the way, thoughts already getting away from him as he considered something he could do. Besides drink them both under the table of course.