Dorian Pavus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tevintage) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-05-18 09:59 am
tevintage) wrote in thecapitol2015-05-18 09:59 am
Entry tags:
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Who| Dorian and Maxwell, Tabris
What| Dorian is in a bit of a downward spiral and who needs self respect anyway
Where| Maxwell's room
When| a few days before the arena
Warnings/Notes| lots of sexual innuendo, and really terrible life decisions. Alcohol abuse ( a bit ). Probably a really ill-thought-out attempt at seduction.
At the very least, he wasn't drunk.
The drinking had gotten worse. Even he could acknowledge that to himself - dimly - as if from a great distance, and about someone else. He'd always enjoyed a good drink but he was using it more and more as an escape, lately, and he was caring less and less about keeping to his tolerances. It was beginning to be a Problem, but one that he couldn't quite help himself with.
Tonight, however, he was not drunk. That was a relief. He would not be doing what he was doing if he had been - he legitimately did care about Maxwell enough that he wouldn't make the man endure that - but he was tired, he was depressed, and he was lonely. The Sinful places in the city had enticed him for a little while but hadn't actually made the depression or the loneliness any better. Whores made good friends but there were only so many male ones in the city and while engaging in carnal passion was indeed a) a satisfying type of rebellion, and b) distracting, it was in absolutely no way fulfilling. Quite the opposite. He felt emptier with each passing day.
He'd been avoiding his friends. He at least had it in him to be ashamed of himself, even if he saw no other particular way of getting on with his life. Back home, perhaps, he could have found another avenue. He could have thrown himself into his studies, into his magic. Into killing random strangers in the countryside. But here...
But here.
It was enough to almost make one wish that one was Tranquil. At least then he wouldn't care.
He had a bottle of brandy in his hand and two glasses, when he knocked on Maxwell's door in the middle of the night. He was dressed, but in the kind of leisurely sexual way that many in the sinful class of this city seemed to. Not as flashy as the peacock modes, but a late night demure outfit - a shoulder bare - the neckline high and strewn through with glinting silken threads, but still soft. It folded to the touch, lay his adam's apple bare. He wore a carefully tailored, if comfortably loose shirt under it. His trousers were fairly snug, with whisps of embroidered blue fire up the outside of the calf. He looked, in a word, fantastic. But there were bags under his eyes that hadn't been there before, and his coif was not quite as well placed as it usually was, and his smile, when he gave it as the door opened, didn't quite manage to reach his eyes.
"Good evening, Maxwell," He said quickly, before the man could make any sound of surprise or even of acknowledgement, before carefully side stepping past him and into the room. "I thought you could use some company, and I had the perfect bottle in mind."
What| Dorian is in a bit of a downward spiral and who needs self respect anyway
Where| Maxwell's room
When| a few days before the arena
Warnings/Notes| lots of sexual innuendo, and really terrible life decisions. Alcohol abuse ( a bit ). Probably a really ill-thought-out attempt at seduction.
At the very least, he wasn't drunk.
The drinking had gotten worse. Even he could acknowledge that to himself - dimly - as if from a great distance, and about someone else. He'd always enjoyed a good drink but he was using it more and more as an escape, lately, and he was caring less and less about keeping to his tolerances. It was beginning to be a Problem, but one that he couldn't quite help himself with.
Tonight, however, he was not drunk. That was a relief. He would not be doing what he was doing if he had been - he legitimately did care about Maxwell enough that he wouldn't make the man endure that - but he was tired, he was depressed, and he was lonely. The Sinful places in the city had enticed him for a little while but hadn't actually made the depression or the loneliness any better. Whores made good friends but there were only so many male ones in the city and while engaging in carnal passion was indeed a) a satisfying type of rebellion, and b) distracting, it was in absolutely no way fulfilling. Quite the opposite. He felt emptier with each passing day.
He'd been avoiding his friends. He at least had it in him to be ashamed of himself, even if he saw no other particular way of getting on with his life. Back home, perhaps, he could have found another avenue. He could have thrown himself into his studies, into his magic. Into killing random strangers in the countryside. But here...
But here.
It was enough to almost make one wish that one was Tranquil. At least then he wouldn't care.
He had a bottle of brandy in his hand and two glasses, when he knocked on Maxwell's door in the middle of the night. He was dressed, but in the kind of leisurely sexual way that many in the sinful class of this city seemed to. Not as flashy as the peacock modes, but a late night demure outfit - a shoulder bare - the neckline high and strewn through with glinting silken threads, but still soft. It folded to the touch, lay his adam's apple bare. He wore a carefully tailored, if comfortably loose shirt under it. His trousers were fairly snug, with whisps of embroidered blue fire up the outside of the calf. He looked, in a word, fantastic. But there were bags under his eyes that hadn't been there before, and his coif was not quite as well placed as it usually was, and his smile, when he gave it as the door opened, didn't quite manage to reach his eyes.
"Good evening, Maxwell," He said quickly, before the man could make any sound of surprise or even of acknowledgement, before carefully side stepping past him and into the room. "I thought you could use some company, and I had the perfect bottle in mind."