"You know… You should have contacted me."
Dorian let out a snort, bringing long, elegant fingers up to his hair so he could tuck some loose strains behind his ear. "And what good would that have served, Magister Tilani," he asked, his voice flat as the slightly slurred words escaped from his lips.
"You would have helped me? Brought me back onto my feet? Supported me as I desperately tried to find a new way for myself?"
Maevaris just sighed, having mentally prepared for what was going to be both a hard and heart-breaking conversation. She took in the sight of what had once been a young, beautiful and proud man. A man whose intelligence, talent and heart would have taken him far beyond the skies and stars, if only he had been given the chance.
Now the heart was broken, the spirit crushed and with it, the man.
Dorian was still well-kept, but he was thinner, his hair longer and his clothes, while finely made, were simpler. It was a man who now lived what some would call a simpler life, but Maevaris knew that Dorian was selling his heart and his soul, just to survive. Nobody knew him as Pavus, not around these parts of Tevinter. Here, he was merely Dorian. No house. No title. Just Dorian. A traveling mage, scholar, drunkard and, for lack of a better word, escort for those interested. Hiding in plain sight as he avoided everyone that had once known him.
She knew that better than anyone. She had spent weeks trying to track him down before she was finally successful.
"I could have prevented this at the very least," she murmured, carefully stepping closer to Dorian.
"There was nothing to prevent," Dorian slurred, looking over at Maevaris with a slight glare as he turned on his seat. "I choose this life. If I wanted something else, I would have made it so."
Now that she could see his face, she could see the that Dorian had grown more facial-hair. It was neatly trimmed, just half an inch or so long, but it covered his chin and jawline, circling his mouth and efficiently making him look older. It looked good, but Maevaris immediately understood why Dorian had grown it.
It was a simple, yet efficient way to hide. Take away his youth and making him look older.
"Dorian-," she started, only to snap her lips shut as Dorian lifted his hand.
"This was my choice. This is my life. I decide which direction it takes."
"And this is what you want," Maevaris asked, frowning some as she folded her arms over her chest, tilting her head as she shot Dorian a challenging look. "Living from hand to mouth based on whatever distant relative who decides to take pity on you? Flirting your way to a good meal? Spreading your legs so you can have a bed to sleep in when money is sparse?"
Dorian flinched, but he didn't back down. Instead he stood up, swaying slightly on his feet. "This is who I am now, Magister Tilani. The son of House Pavus is dead, I have no title or anything of worth. I am getting by and I doing it by myself."
"By selling yourself as a common whore?" Maevaris asked. "You are better than that, Dorian. You are an Altus, a- "
"I was an Altus, but no more," Dorian snapped. "I have never claimed to be better than a whore nor beggar. They do what they must to survive, as I do now. It's that or crawl back to my father, letting them do that blasted ritual so they can have the precious son they want."
Dorian inhaled deeply, his voice shaking slightly as he struggled with remaining stood up. "There is no circle I can go to. No relatives who will take me in. No friends I wish to go to because I will be but a liability, and even then, they are short and far between!"
Another breath and Maevaris could see that Dorian was visibly shaken. "My next choice? Leave Tevinter, start a-new, except I am useless in anything else save magic! And even then, my heritage and my homelands will follow me as a bad stench! Despised for being Tevinter, despised for being a mage! I have one stigma here at home, another there. In the eyes of the people, be it here or there, I will always have something wrong with me, things I cannot change. I cannot change where I come from, nor can I change who I am!"
He let himself fall back onto his seat hard, but if the fall hurt, he didn't show it. "Doomed wherever I go, Magister Tilani. Such is my fate."
Maevaris looked at him, the sharp look in her eyes replaced with something else before she sighed, moving to sit next to Dorian. Dorian didn't move away from her, but he didn't look at her either. Just another thing to break her heart as she saw just how vulnerable Dorian was.
"… Remember when we first met, Dorian?" she murmured softly after a minute or so of silence. "Remember what I told you then?"
Dorian didn't say anything. He merely remained slumped on his chair, hand reaching towards a mug with ale.
"I am not going to say I know your pain, Dorian," she continued, letting Dorian drink.
"But I know pain. I have lost those who supported me. I lost my husband. And I have experienced the nightmare of reliving the good days of having him by my side. But do you know what I did?"
She looked at Dorian, smiling some as she reached out her hand, brushing the long, black hair away from his face. "I refused to give up. I remembered that I had people behind me, people I could trust. People who loved me and accepted me for who I am. Not a day goes by without someone challenging me, just because I am a little different, but I know that is all they have on me. I know they are so scared of me, simply for being me, and I draw strength from that. And I draw strength from the memories I have of my darling husband and my father."
She stood up from her seat, but not before giving Dorian's cheek a kiss. "And you should do the same. There is nothing wrong with being different and you are meant for so much world than drifting in the wind like this. You have yet to bloom and I want to see it when you do, Dorian. Draw strength from those who oppose you because they are afraid of you and what you can become."
She gave Dorian one final smile as she straightened up. "I will be here in town for a few days, Dorian. If you wish to see me, if only to have a glass of wine, then come to the Draco Forti. I have a room there."
And with that she left, leaving Dorian to his own thoughts.
With a snort, Dorian just waved her off, turning back to stare at the half-empty mug of ale he had been attempted to drink. His mood had turned sour, but he knew it was only party Maevaris' fault. Mostly, he was angry at himself. Himself and his stupid pride because deep down inside, he knew that Maevaris was right.
He had let himself fall into pieces with no care to try and rebuild himself.
He couldn't even honestly say how long he had been living the way he had now…
In fact, it was his new state of living it felt like; a state of semi-intoxication. Drunk enough to forget and ignore the pain, but sober enough to know what he was doing. To remain in control.
Still, it was pathetic and Dorian knew it, but he had long since stopped caring about that. It was unsightly, yes, and those closest to him would say it was beneath him, but Dorian relished in it instead. He took pride in it because it was the only thing he had, and he decided he could, and would, control it. His life was finally his own and he was the one deciding that he could dump it down the privy if he wanted to.
After all, there was no longer any difference between him and the average low-life gutter-trash now. He was just better dressed.
This was his worth now as far as he was concerned.
Still, he remembered the day when he had left the damn crypt and turned his back on everything he had ever known like it had been yesterday…
While Dorian was a man of pride, he wasn't above being extremely petty and once he reached the town-square, he headed straight to the bank to retrieve money, flashing the Pavus birth-right while he still could.
He hadn't taken much, just enough so he survive while he planned his next step.
Problem was, he had had no idea where to even start or what to even do. He still didn't.
The only thing he'd known for certain was that he couldn't go back. He couldn't go home.
His father had burned that bridge the second he had let the idea of using bloodmagic to change him, and even now Dorian could feel the hurt and rage inside himself from the knowledge of it.
What was worse still was that there was this little voice that had spoken in his head. A voice that still spoke to him, no matter how much he tried to ignore it: the voice that asked him if it just wouldn't be easier to do it? Easier to just pretend and live a carefree life in luxury while letting the world pass him by?
It would be easier indeed.
But it wouldn't be right.
So, he had ended up drifting. He had left Qarinus and headed for Minrathous, hoping that the city would be able to hide him for long enough to plan his next step. Exactly what he had been hiding from, he hadn't been sure off, but it was a reflex.
After all, hiding was something he was very good at.
That was one of the good things with going to the capital of Tevinter; the amount of people from all walks of live gathered there, creating the perfect hiding-place for a pariah such as himself, at least for the moment. But where he once had walked the streets proudly with his head held high, Dorian had found himself hiding in the darkest corners of whatever pub or inn he found himself in.
He knew he had all but lived on borrowed time; his funds were limited and because of his family name, he had few ways to make an income.
He was smart, yes. Knowledgeable, talented, but without a name to show for there were few who would hire him. After all, those he could offer his services to had little to no extra gain by employing him; they couldn't win any favours with the ex-son of the Pavus household so what was the point? And because of the way he left the circle, and the fact that he now was without a name or sponsor, he could just about forget about returning there.
Dorian had considered writing to the few contacts he had, but in the end, he had refrained from doing so. He didn't want to bother anyone with his own troubles, but he also felt overwhelmed.
He had no idea what to do or where to even start so in the end, he had just started. All he knew was that he couldn't stand being near his family, couldn't stand the thought of seeing that face again and so he had left. He had managed to get a spot on the first and best carrier he could find, and let it take him away, as far away from Minrathous as he could get.
Then he had drifted, from one town to the next, seeing more of Tevinter than he had ever done in his life, but unable to enjoy much of it.
Everywhere he went, he felt sick to his stomach because all he could see was that everything was the same. The system was the same, the attitude was the same and the more he travelled, the more of an outside he had felt like.
He had felt despair, loneliness. He had cried, he had acted out in rage, he had even tried to end his life a few times, only to find that he was too afraid to actually do so.
And now he was here, drinking in a small inn at the back-end of the Tevinter countryside and wondering where he was going next.
Wrinkling his nose some, Dorian tried to push the memories of those days back behind the fog of alcohol, taking another deep gulp, and efficiently emptying his mug with ale with the action, in an attempt to add more fog to his mind.
Still, there was that part of him, that part he had tried to silence and bury deep within himself, that had woken up from seeing Maevaris again.
That part of him that tried to tell Dorian to fight. That part of him that told him that this, all of this, could be changed, but someone had to stand up and throw the first stone.
Maevaris was already fighting, but she needed more people to stand up. More people to add their voice to the cause.
He pondered, even as the alcohol did it's best to bring his mind back into the comfort of the fog. He traced the rim of his mug with his finger, letting his eyes focus on the gesture as he let his mind shake off the fog and rise back up into action.
Was he strong enough? Could he do it?
It would hurt, that much he knew. He would get looks. Comments. Allying himself with Maevaris, who was already a large target not only because of her marriage to a Dwarfen merchant, but because of her lifestyle, would bring more eyes on him.
Could he handle that? Was that not, in part, what he had wanted? To live and show himself as he was instead of living a lie?
He wasn't sure he could.
Still, even as he got up from his chair and headed to his room, Dorian kept thinking about it. In fact, he kept thinking about it for the next two days, hardly leaving his room as he went back and forward with himself.
It was a chilly evening on the third day of pointless argument with his own mind that Dorian just did it. He headed to the Draco Forti and after being pointed in the direction of Maevari's room, he knocked and waited.
When she opened the door, giving him a pleased smile, he scoffed and waved at her. "Don't be smug. You'll let it get to your head."
She just chuckled and opened the door fully for him. "Come on in, Dorian."
And he did.