The remaining travel to the Winter Palace is relatively smooth. The ladies have shifted their strategy a bit with the Inquisitor, much to his relief. He is actually quite the fast learner, Dorian notes, when he isn't being clucked at from every direction at once. Vax'ildan starts showing up at his tent in the evenings once camp has settled down, golden orbs sparkling and begging Dorian to review and fine tune his lessons as an extra precaution. By the time the party reaches the guest house outside of Halamshiral, Vax'ildan seems to have an acceptable grasp on the finer points of The Game.
The party arrives at the Winter Palace a couple days before the talks are set to take place, giving them time to settle into their accommodations and recover from long days on horseback. The guest house they are staying in is garish and gaudy - gold and blue tapestries line the walls, extravagant vases and marble statues are tucked into every corner, and paintings of finely dressed Orlesians hang in ornate gold frames. The large bed in his room is dressed with soft, silky linens and far too many pillows. Dorian smiles as he runs a hand over the sheets - it was all so tacky and overdone - he loved it.
He removes his boots and strips off the robe he had been traveling in. His muscles ache from their travels, and he wants nothing more than to sink into a hot bath to soothe his aches and pains. He sets his pack down on a tufted chair next to the wardrobe and slides on the satin robe that has been neatly laid out on the bed for him before making his way down the hall.
The bath house is large and luxurious, just as one would expect for the guest house of the Empress. Steam fills the room, mixing in with the scent of eucalyptus, citrus, and lavender in the air. Dorian can feel his muscles relaxing with each step he takes.
Vivienne and Leliana have claimed a couple of chaise lounges in the corner, covering their faces with warm towels and fancy lotions. The Iron Bull is submerged in the large pool of water near the middle of the room. Steam swirls around his large muscles as he soaks. He peeks his eye open as Dorian's footsteps reverberate off the marble walls and gives the mage a nod.
"Hey, chief." He greets Dorian, closing his eye again.
"Hello, Bull." Dorian responds cheerfully. He slides off his robe and sets it down carefully on a nearby chair, making sure to fold it neatly first. He takes a step into the water and sighs. It is blissfully hot and he melts down to his shoulders, resting his head against the wall. "The fact that we do not have anything like this at Skyhold is truly criminal."
"I gotta admit, it does beat those tiny wooden tubs they have around the castle." Bull chuckles. "I can really stretch out here!" He stretches his long limbs, his feet pressing against Dorian's side. Dorian pulls away with a frown.
"No, no!" He scoots further down the side, putting more space between them. "I won't have you ruining my relaxation with your grimy toenails!"
"Easy, chief. I won't hurt your pretty soft skin." Bull laughs and pulls his legs back. Dorian rolls his eyes but settles back down into the water.
"Creators, we need one of these at Skyhold!" Vax's voice slides over Dorian's shoulders, and the mage almost jumps out of his skin. His eyes fly open as Vax'ildan is sliding into the water a few feet away.
"Fasta Vass! What have I told you about sneaking up like that!?" Dorian snips.
"What? I thought you heard me." Vax smirks, shooting a wink at Bull. Dorian shoots a glare at Vax'ildan, who shrugs and submerges himself completely underwater. When he breaks the surface again, his long, ebony hair is flat against his head, and he runs a hand through it to push it out of his face. He closes his eyes and leans his head against the edge of the pool.
Dorian's eyes begin to wander over the Inquisitor's form. He watches as a bead of water slowly traces a path from his jaw down his lean neck, over the jagged scar, and across his collar bone. His eyes trace the outline of the scar - it has healed nicely, the blacks and purples have faded completely, but the tissue is uneven and rough. His eyes move up, to a faint scar that cuts through his eyebrow down to the top of his cheekbone, and he finds himself wondering what the story behind it is. His mind begins to wander, questioning what other scars or marks might be hiding from view, stories waiting to be heard.
"You do know I'm still here, right?" Bull's voice breaks Dorian from his thoughts. He jumps at the sound and immediately shifts his gaze away from the elf. Vax'ildan pops one golden eye open questioningly. "See something you like over there, Vint?" Bull asks with a grin.
"What?! No…I…I was just…" Dorian sputters, trying to find the words. Vax opens his eyes and turns to look at Dorian, his head tilting to study him. Dorian lets out a huff and turns to Vax. "Your scar. I haven't seen it recently. I'm glad to see it's healing nicely." He explains, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Uh huh." Bull says dryly and Dorian splashes him with water.
"I hope it hasn't been causing you any trouble."
Vax runs a hand over his collarbone and up his neck along the scar, his fingers delicately tracing the outline.
"Not recently." He says easily. He looks over and sees the look of worry painted on Dorian's face. "I'm fine, Dorian." He adds, placing his hands on the mage's shoulders. "Really."
Dorian nods and turns away, thankful that he has managed to deflect the conversation successfully. Bull shoots him a look, that he ignores, before standing up.
"Well," He says, stretching his limbs. Dorian and Vax both try to avoid looking directly at the naked Qunari in front of them. "I've got some notes to review from the Ben-Hassrath. I'm going to turn in." He strides out of the water and wraps his lower half in a towel before leaving the room. Dorian swears he catches a small wink aimed at him, but decides to ignore it.
The two settle into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the hot water doing wonders for their tired muscles. Finally, Dorian tilts his head over towards Vax'ildan.
"How are you feeling about the peace talks?" He asks gently.
"Better. Thanks to you and the ladies." Vax says, his eyes still closed. "Although I would be lying if I said I wasn't still dreading it."
"Understandable." A smile spreads across Dorian's face. "But you needn't worry. You've picked up a lot already, and I will be waiting in the wings to swoop in with a glorious distraction should the situation arise!"
"Ok, you've piqued my interest." Vax laughs.
"I won't give anything away and spoil the surprise. Let's just say it involves a bottle of wine, ten silk scarves, and a little bit of fire." Dorian winks at Vax'ildan. "But, in truth, I'm sure the whole thing will be a very dull affair. After all, as I understand it there aren't even murders at Orlesian festivities."
Vax's eyes open and a look of shock spreads across his face. He turns to Dorian, eyebrows shooting up.
"Is that something that happens in Tevinter?" He asks.
"Oh, dear Inquisitor, a singular murder would be an embarrassment in my country. No party is ever complete without a good, old fashioned assassination attempt and most likely a whisper of blood magic." His words are flippant, but there's a slight pull on his lips that betrays the disgust lurking underneath.
"Creators." Vax says, letting out a breath. "That's a bit…extreme."
"That's Tevinter for you." Dorian's eyes grow dark and his mood shifts. His mind flashes back to the parties and social gatherings his father would drag him to. All the times he'd had to play the part of the dutiful Scion of House Pavus, while the whispers about him and his 'dubious choices' followed him every time he turned his back. The looks he would get when people thought he wasn't looking. The lectures his father would give him about their legacy and the importance of maintaining certain standards in society.
"Ir abelas, lethallin. I didn't mean to upset you." Vax turns to Dorian, concerned. Dorian shakes his head, his calm demeanor returning once more.
"Nonsense. You've done no such thing!" He says with a smile. Vax stares at him a moment longer. Finally, he turns away from Dorian and rests his head back on the ledge once more. Dorian watches Vivienne and Leliana gather their things, giggling like school girls as they head back to their rooms. The room falls silent, the only sound is the faint crackling of the dimly lit torches along the walls.
His gaze eventually finds its way back to Vax'ildan, who is staring up at the ceiling lost in thought.
"I wrote to my sister." He says, still looking up.
"Did you? That's wonderful." Dorian replies cheerfully.
"She's doing well, the whole clan is. She was happy to hear from me, and she said word of what we are doing in the South has reached even the clan."
"That's impressive, considering how nomadic your people are."
"I miss her." Vax closes his eyes for a moment, before turning to Dorian. "Thank you for encouraging me to write to her." His eyes are bright, the torch light dancing off of them like sparks from a flame.
Suddenly, Dorian is aware of how close they are. They aren't touching, but they are close enough that he could reach his hand out and brush the skin of Vax'ildan's arm without effort. He could play it off as an accident without raising suspicion. Vax seems to recognize the same thing, and Dorian swears he sees a heat rising in his gaze.
"Of course. I'm glad you listened to me. I'm very clever." His words come out in a whisper, lacking the flippant nature he had intended. Vax is still staring at him, his gaze slowly lowering to his lips. He feels Vax's fingers gently gliding against his under the water and he freezes, his breath catching in his throat.
"Vax'ildan…" Dorian's lips hardly move and his words are barely audible. His mind is racing but his body is frozen in the moment, terrified to move and ruin whatever is building between them. The air is thick with steam and something else that Dorian can't quite place.
Vax is still starting at Dorian's lips. His brows are furrowed, like there's a question on the tip on his tongue, but he stays silent. His hand slips out of the water and he gently hooks a finger under Dorian's chin. He pulls Dorian forward and presses their lips together. The room spins as Dorian sinks into his touch, letting him lead.
Vax's kiss is soft, almost inquisitive. His finger holds Dorian in place, but without force. His pace is slow, but Dorian still finds it hard to catch his breath. After a few minutes? -hours? Dorian isn't sure, Vax pulls away, running his thumb down the center of Dorian's lips before letting it fall away. Dorian opens his eyes again with a smile.
"My my. What an interesting way to say thank you." He says with a smirk.
"That's how it should have been the first time." Vax says sincerely. Dorian feels heat rising in his cheeks.
"If only Skyhold had a bath house…" Dorian says wistfully, trying to ignore his heart slamming against his chest. Vax rolls his eyes at Dorian's attempted deflection.
"I'm sorry…" Vax says, a pained look on his face.
"For not having a bath house?" Dorian questions. "I hardly think you're to blame."
"Dorian…" Vax groans, but continues before the mage can cut him off. "I shouldn't have kissed you like that…" He trails off, and Dorian thinks back to how Vax'ildan had flung himself at him in his quarters, mid-rant.
"Ah." Vax looks up in time to see Dorian's face drop, deflated. He takes a step back from the elf, a pained look in his eyes. Vax's eyes widen and he moves to close the distance between them again, placing a hand on Dorian's cheek. He fights the urge to lean into the elf's touch and drops his gaze to the water.
"I didn't mean it like that…" He lowers his head a bit to find Dorian's eyes. Dorian looks up through his lashes, waiting. "I just meant you deserved better than being ambushed by my frustrations." Dorian raises an eyebrow and smirks devilishly, instincts taking over.
"If that's how you express your frustrations, I wouldn't mind being on the receiving end more often."
Any sign of sincerity and concern disappear from Vax's face as he lets out a low chuckle. He closes his eyes and Dorian watches his tongue slide along his lower lip. He seems to stop for a moment, considering something. Then his eyes snap open, golden orbs burning and lips curling into a smirk that stops Dorian's heart.
"Ma nuvenin." Vax'ildan growls and slides his hand from Dorian's cheek to the back of his neck. He pulls and Dorian lurches forward. Vax's mouth finds his, crashing into him like waves against the shore. Dorian stands, momentarily stunned, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. What does he normally do with his hands? His thoughts become cloudy and muddled, and finally he slips one hand around the elf's waist, his other trailing up his chest.
Vax's skin is smooth and soft and better than Dorian could have ever imagined. His hands trace outlines of toned muscles along Vax's sides, his chest, and around his back. He feels the slight change in texture as his hands reach between Vax'ildan's shoulder blades. The image of the daggers protruding from these wounds causes Dorian to wince slightly. Vax takes notice and moves before Dorian can pull away, moving his lips across Dorian's jaw and down his neck.
"Stay with me." Vax's words are low and gruff as he buries his head in Dorian's neck, his breath hot in Dorian's ear. He lets out a moan when Vax'ildan slips down and finds a particularly sensitive spot on his throat and begins to nip. He threads his hands through Vax'ildan's long, ebony locks, anchoring himself to the moment.
Dorian cannot remember a time he has felt so weightless. To be fair, he was having a hard time remembering anything at this particular moment. Nothing in his life - no crush, no stolen kisses in shadow, none of his numerous trysts - had ever felt like this.
He slips his hands out of Vax'ildan's hair and slides them across his chest. With a slight push, Dorian pins him against the edge of the pool. Vax rests his elbows on the ledge and looks up at Dorian, a dangerous smirk on his lips. Dorian leans down and bites his lower lip, removing the smirk. He tilts Vax'ildan's head up with one hand, the other slowly making its way across his lips, down his jaw, his neck.
His eyes meet Vax's as he slowly traces along the scar, and the elf shudders, his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears burning. Without breaking eye contact, Dorian continues his trail down Vax'ildan's chest and abdomen, stopping just above his navel. He can feel the elf's tight muscles contracting and he grins.
"Festis bei umo canavarum." His eyes are dark and stormy, and the words slide off his tongue like smooth wine. Vax snakes a hand up Dorian's arm to the hand resting on his chin. He slides his fingers between the mage's, linking them together. He rolls his hips slightly, trying to temp Dorian's other hand to move lower but he does not move. Dorian's grin grows wider as he leans in closer, nibbling at Vax'ildan's earlobe. "Patience, Inquisitor."
Dorian sets to work on Vax'ildan's neck again, determined to leave a mark. Vax's gasp echoes in the empty chamber. Dorian opens his mouth to say something vulgar, when he stops suddenly.
Years of sneaking around and generally disappointing his family has honed his senses, and he curses under his breath as his ears prick at the soft sound of footsteps approaching. He pushes away from Vax'ildan in a panic, quickly crossing to the other side of the pool and leaning against the edge, his back to the elf.
Vax's eyebrows stitch together in confusion, before his ears twitch and he turns his attention to the hall. A few moments later, Cullen steps into the room looking worn down and pale. He gives the Inquisitor a nod as he approaches, setting his things down on a chair.
"Good evening, Inquisitor. Dorian." He says politely, lowering himself into the steaming water.
"Commander." Vax nods back, sounding perfectly professional. Dorian gives him a nod and waves over his shoulder. "Have you settled in alright?"
"Yes, thank you. Although I admit these accommodations are a bit much, don't you think?" He gestures around the room vaguely. "All this for a bath."
"I suppose I'm not surprised at your distaste for a bit of luxury, Commander." Dorian quips. "Perhaps we could send for a bucket to be delivered to your room if you prefer?" His words are a bit sharper than he intended, but the man didn't seem to notice. Cullen lets out a small chuckle and sinks into the water.
"I wouldn't go that far." Cullen admits sheepishly. He looks over to Vax, whose cheeks and ears are still flushed a deep scarlet. "Are you alright, Inquisitor?" He asks, full of concern. He looks around at the steam swirling around the elf's delicate skin. "Is it too hot for you?"
Dorian barks out a laugh, turning to face Vax with a dangerous look. Vax smirks, his gaze not leaving the mage's.
"I quite like the heat, actually." Vax says casually. Cullen seems to accept his answer, drifting to his own thoughts.
Thanks to Cullen, Dorian has had some time to cool off, so to speak. His thoughts finally start to settle, and his blood has stopped throbbing in his ears. He pulls himself out of the pool to dry off, thoughts spinning wildly in his head.
"I should turn in." Dorian notes with an air of indifference. He ties his robe around himself and turns back around. Vax is staring at him, caught somewhere between confusion and sadness. He looks away, unable to meet his gaze. "Commander." He gives a slight bow to Cullen. "Inquisitor." He turns to offer the same professional bow to Vax'ildan. The elf's face has gone completely blank, and he dismisses Dorian with a quick nod. Dorian tries to ignore the tug of guilt pulling at him as he heads back to his room.
Once he reaches his quarters, he pulls on his sleeping clothes and buries himself under the laughable amount of pillows on his bed with a groan. Since their talk in the Frostback Mountains, the pair have settled into an effortless friendship once again, any awkwardness between them seemingly gone. So why was he trying to ruin that with his incessant, impulsive flirting? Was he so selfish and weak that he could not fight against what he wants to be what Vax'ildan needs? He lets out another groan and rubs his face with his hands.
Father always said I tend to have self-destructive tendencies, he thinks to himself.
In hindsight, he is grateful the Commander showed up when he did. As fun as their flirting was, Dorian knows it can be nothing more. He is more than willing to serve as a distraction, but he knows eventually the Inquisitor will tire of him, or find someone better to seek companionship with. He knows this delicate friendship was the best he could hope for, and he is determined not to spoil it.
He crawls under the covers, a heavy pit settling into his stomach. He allows his thoughts to drift back to the feeling of Vax'ildan's hands running over his skin, his mouth on his neck, before letting out a sigh and shoving them into the box at the back of his mind. He turns over and falls into a fitful sleep, numbness settling in once again.
The next morning, Dorian makes his way to the dining room. A lavish breakfast has been set out for them, and it smells divine. He helps himself to a hot cup of jasmine tea before piling some scones and fresh fruit onto a plate.
Several members of the Inquisition are seated around the room already. Cullen and Cassandra are huddled together, clutching mugs of coffee and, from what Dorian can guess, discussing strategy. The Iron Bull and Varric are at another end of the table, chatting casually. Josephine appears to be reviewing some new missives with Vax'ildan, who keeps trying to reach for his breakfast only to have her shove another document under his nose. Vax shoots Dorian a desperate look when they lock eyes, and he offers an apologetic shrug before sitting down next to Bull and Varric.
"Morning, Sparkler." Varric greets him cheerfully. "Enjoy yourself last night?"
"What?" Dorian whips his head over to the dwarf, thrown off by his question.
"That bath house is pretty fancy." He comments casually. "Honestly, this whole place sort of screams Dorian." He adds with a chuckle.
"You insult me. My standards are much higher than the tasteless decor of Orlais." Dorian tuts. "But I will admit, the bath house is lovely. Raffish decor notwithstanding."
"Apologies, Sparkler. Didn't mean to offend your delicate sensibilities." Varric quips as Dorian rolls his eyes.
"My sensibilities are fine, thank you."
"I'm sure they are." Bull mutters under his breath. Dorian glares, elbowing him.
"I take it you haven't indulged yet, then?" Dorian turns back to Varric, attempting to change the subject hoping the dwarf missed Bull's quip.
"No, I'm not a fan of large pools of water. Too easy to drown if you aren't careful. Plus, I've seen Bull naked enough, I don't need that image in my head again."
"Aw, so you do think about me." Bull jokes as Varric pulls a face.
"Sorry, Tiny. I'm already spoken for."
"What about you?" Bull nudges Dorian playfully. "See anything you liked last night?"
Dorian's eyes flit across the room, landing on Vax for a second before he catches himself, but not quick enough for Bull not to notice. Bull lets out a low chuckle.
"I knew it." He says, meeting Dorian's gaze knowingly. Dorian freezes, panic shooting through him. "Even the Vint can't resist the Iron Bull." He winks and ruffles Dorian's hair. Dorian smiles in spite of himself, heat rising in his cheeks. He turns to Bull with a dazzling smile.
"Yes, I am positively captivated by you, you great ox."
Bull claps Dorian on the back, throwing him forward and almost knocking him out of his chair. He catches himself clumsily, straightening his robes with a huff.
"Hm, a Tevinter mage and Qunari spy. That would actually make a pretty good novel." Varric says jokingly, but then turns and jots something down in the notebook he keeps in his pocket.
"Come on, hot stuff," Bull slides and arm around Dorian as Josephine starts to round them up for one final debrief before tomorrow's ball. "Let's make sure we give Varric some good material." Dorian huffs, but lets the Qunari lead him out of the room.
The group spends the rest of the morning reviewing with the Inquisition Council. Josephine reviews the guest list, proper Orlesian etiquette, as well as any important anecdotes that may prove useful in conversation throughout the next evening. Leliana adds a few salacious rumors to the Ambassador's list, reminding the group that gossip and rumor can provide just as much information with the right context. Cullen takes time to walk through the layout of the palace, noting important egress locations and where they will have various Inquisition forces stationed.
"Before we go," Josephine calls as the group readies to wrap up the meeting, "Your attire for tomorrow's event will be delivered to your rooms later this afternoon. Please ensure there are no last minute alterations needed to your uniform before tomorrow."
Dorian and Vivienne exchange surprised looks at this announcement.
"Josephine, darling, I apologise, I must have misheard you." Dorian calls to her with a flourish. "I thought I heard you say uniform."
"I did." She confirms. Dorian and Vivienne continue to stare at her as if that response wasn't acceptable. "We believed it would be better to present a unified front at the Palace." She explains softly, her lilting accent smoothing her words. Leliana and Cullen both nod beside her. "We are under much scrutiny, and we need to show the guests, and more importantly the Empress, that we are a force to be respected and legitimized."
Dorian crosses his arms over his chest in a huff.
"Don't worry, Vint." Bull nudges him. "You'll still look pretty." Dorian rolls his eyes as a couple chuckles echo through the room.
"Obviously." He mutters under his breath.
The Ambassador is kind enough to dismiss the group before the teasing gets out of hand.
Varric eventually finds Dorian in his room a while later and invites him to a game of Wicked Grace. He joins the dwarf, Bull, Cassandra, Josephine, and Vax'ildan in one of the parlors. Wine and cheese has been brought to them, and Dorian is excited to have a decent vintage instead of the vinegar they have back at Skyhold. The group spends the next few hours getting pleasantly drunk, enjoying a rare moment of downtime.
Dorian eventually excuses himself from the group, heading out into the gardens framing the guest house. The sun is setting and there is a slight, comfortable breeze drifting through the air carrying the scent of roses. He finds a bench near one of the ornate stone fountains and takes a seat, enjoying the quiet. Closing his eyes, he lets his mind wander as the breeze brushes against his flushed cheeks.
He isn't sure if it's the wine, the soft floral and earthy scent on the air, or some combination of both, but his thoughts drift to Vax'ildan. He can still feel how his hands had felt in the elf's hair, soft and silky even while soaking wet. How it felt to run his hands along bare skin, toned and tight and warm. He can still feel the tingle of where their lips met, exploring each other, testing and teasing. Ok, definitely the wine, he thinks to himself as a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.
He runs a hand along his neck and through his hair, but keeps his eyes closed. He isn't quite ready to let go of that memory just yet. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he opens his eyes. Two golden orbs meet his, and he jumps out of his skin. Vax'ildan is leaning casually against the fountain directly in front of Dorian, signature smirk on his lips and staring at the mage.
"Vishante kaffas!" Dorian yelps, shooting him a look. "Just once I'd like to hear you coming. We could exchange such pleasantries! 'Hello, Inquisitor!' 'Oh hello, Dorian! Lovely evening isn't it?' 'Oh yes, it certainly is! What exquisite weather! Oh - won't you join me for a spell? The light from the Palace is just darling at this hour!' "Why certainly, Dorian, I'd love to' Honestly, how hard is that?!" Dorian's hands flail wildly as he babbles.
Vax'ildan watches Dorian, golden eyes shining and his smirk never leaving his lips. He is fidgeting with something in his hands, but Dorian can't tell what it is. Dorian huffs, looking at Vax'ildan with raised eyebrows.
"Oh, hello, Dorian! Lovely evening isn't it?" Vax quips, and Dorian has to stop himself from throwing a fireball at the elf. He playfully swats at Vax'ildan with a frown, but the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth betrays him.
"Ha ha." He says dryly. He motions to the empty spot on the bench and Vax sits down next to him. The elf's ears and cheeks are flushed, and Dorian can smell the faint scent of alcohol on his wine-stained lips. He tilts his head toward the parlor - laughter and shouts echoing out into the garden. "Don't tell me you lost all your money in Wicked Grace again."
"I really need to stop playing when I drink." Vax says, shaking his head. Dorian claps a hand on the elf's shoulder solemnly. The pair collapse into giggles for a minute, unable to control themselves. Finally they settle down, wiping tears away from their eyes and stomachs aching from the strain.
Vax looks down at his left hand, his fist carefully closed around something. There is a faint green glow creeping out from his palm, but the anchor appears quiet for the moment - unsurprising, considering how far they currently are from any fade rifts. With a flourish, Vax lifts his hand and offers the item to Dorian.
Dorian takes the small, golden item from Vax, their fingers brushing for the briefest moment. He turns it around delicately in his fingers, his breath catching in his throat.
"It's beautiful." He says softly. The form of a halla, mid-leap, has been gracefully carved into some sort of wood. It's sturdy, and painted with a shimmering gold that sparkles in the light. He brings a finger to the tip of one of the finely crafted antlers, and finds that the point is actually sharp. "Where did you get it?"
"I made it." Vax says shyly. Dorian turns his head to look at him and Vax lowers his gaze, blushing a little.
"Truly?" He breathes. "That is…incredible!"
"It's for you." Vax says, almost a whisper. He looks over at Dorian shyly, dark hair falling in front of his face.
"What?" Dorian asks, genuinely shocked. "For me?"
"It's a broach." He explains, reaching over and taking the halla from Dorian. He pulls on a clasp on the back of the figurine and secures it to the lapel of Dorian's robe. "I thought it might help give a little something…extra to your uniform tomorrow." He smooths down the fabric and then rubs his neck. "You know, add a little of that Pavus flare." He smirks.
Dorian stares down at his lapel, speechless. He watches the light reflect and bounce off the halla, and wonders what sort of paint could create such a dazzling display. He looks up and locks eyes with Vax, eyes dark and stormy as he stares. He doesn't know the right words for this moment, but Vax looks at him like he can read his thoughts. He brings a hand to Dorian's cheek and offers a soft smile. Dorian drops his eyes, overwhelmed.
"Thank you." He says softly, still staring at his lap. His eyes begin to burn and a single tear slips down his cheek and onto Vax's hand before he can stop it. He snaps his head up and can feel heat gathering in his checks and up the back of his neck. He stands abruptly, breaking their contact. "I have to go. I'm sorry." He squeezes Vax'ildan's shoulder once before turning and heading to his room.
Later that evening, Dorian lays in bed curled on his side, staring at the small halla in his hand. He twirls it around gently, taking in each and every intricately carved detail. He smiles as the tears fall, and a warmth begins to spread in his chest. He drifts off to sleep still gently clutching the halla, allowing the rolling warmth to envelope him.