#I want a talbuk plushy now

[vaard]

Some simple flats on the bedtime story lines from a few months ago!  Rue refuses to go to bed some evenings unless she gets a story. She’s a hyper little thing with too much energy sometimes.

[rudra-writes]

Pellurin Date Night (Part 2)

Part of a roleplay story with Telurin’s player. The pair journey to Embaari, where Pallas goes on a date with Telurin. They attend a beer and wine festival alongside a lake, and play carnival games.

Pallas mumbles in response, his tipsiness causing him to act sulkier than the situation truly calls for. Naturally, Telurin knocks over the bottles with minimal effort.

“If you had had more to drink, your aim would be as bad as mine.” What a meanie, asking to play accuracy-related games after Pallas had drank too much! Still, the priest readily takes a talbuk plushie. He clutches it, his drunken state causing him to forget his worry about how he might look holding such a thing.

Telurin thinks he looks adorable, and it has the added benefit of keeping the Anchorite from making too much of a scene by getting progressively more 'handsy’ with his death knight 'guardian’.

“I would rather one of us remain sober, Anchorite. Do you wish to go back to the tasting booths, or is there something else you had in mind?” Telurin lets his voice drop, subtly suggestive. “Your choice, Pallas.”

Pallas's brows furrow when Telurin suggests they might return to the tasting booths. Hadn't the death knight been warning him against drinking too much only a short time earlier? He peers tipsily up at Tel's face. "... I don't know that I should have more alcohol," he says slowly, as if forming sentences is challenging right now, "But, won’t you have some, too? You've hardly had any, and you're always so stiff."

Pallas shoves his hands pathetically against Telurin's breastplate, as if complaining about his guardian's 'stiffness'.

Telurin catches Pallas's wrists, and gently puts them back on his side of the death knight’s public personal space bubble.

"I will drink." He says. "But not here. If you wish, we'll take a bottle or two and go off back to our rooms or down by the lake." //Away from people.// is the end of that statement, unsaid but thought.

Pallas huffs softly. He had hoped Telurin might be able to have more fun, that he might smile a genuine smile. In his tipsiness, his mental state comes across as being like a cloud of cottony wool, any thought-forms directed at him only passing through with effort.

Still, the priest seems to understand, for he nods. //I'd like to see the lake,// he tries to communicate in his cottony, drunken brain. //And be away from the people and noise.// He clutches his talbuk plush, holding onto Telurin's elbow to steady himself as he follows the armored draenei away.

Telurin gets enough of that to understand, and he nods. Their path takes them past the alcohol booths, and Telurin stops long enough to pick up a bottle of the blackberry liqueur, as well as a lighter blackberry wine, before guiding his slightly-definitely tipsy Anchorite through the town and down to the lake, where there's a secluded little spot next to some willows along the shore.

"Better?" he asks, settling against a nearby rock outcropping and pulling Pallas to him.

Pallas is pulled close to Telurin's cool armor and mail. He lays his slender self against the death knight without any hesitation, his stuffed talbuk dropping lightly to the sand by accident. He's warm, but not holding himself up entirely soberly.

//It's very pretty here,// the priest comments mentally, gazing out at the pure aquamarine blue of the lake before turning his eyes up at Telurin's face. //Was it not enjoyable for you?//

"It was very enjoyable for me, Kechare." Telurin says, reaching for the stuffed talbuk and setting on a nearby rock, so that it doesn't get dirty. "I am not often one for crowds, but it was worth it to see you so relaxed."

Telurin is so attentive, he actually picks up Pallas's dropped plush. The priest smiles when he's reassured their little outing was enjoyed by the death knight after all.

He tries to stretch himself taller to meet Telurin's face, caressing the other man's sideburn in his thin fingers, and kissing along his jaw to his lips. The priest's mouth tastes sweet, flavored by the berry drinks he had sampled earlier. "I want to see you relaxed, too," Pallas murmurs, his eyes half-lidded.

Telurin helps him, lowering his head to catch Pallas's lips with his own, tasting the alcohol on his tongue as they meet.

"I am relaxed, Pallas." He chuckles when they part, and it's true, he is as relaxed as he'd ever be in the open, and his movements are easy and sure as he holds his Anchorite and looks out onto the water. "Though I think you mean you wish to see me intoxicated. Do you think that is wise, Pallas?"

Pallas smiles faintly, his eyes still dilated and unfocused. He presses forward for more light kisses, nibbling the death knight's chin tendrils. He strokes one of them with a hand, lightly trailing his fingers. "I don't know what you would be like drunk," he mumbles. "You might be a sad drunk."

"I am." He says with all the seriousness he can muster with his very tiny and cute Anchorite nibbling on his tendrils. They curl around Pallas's own, and he rests his crest against Pallas's horns.

"I am both relaxed and happy, little one." He says, reaching for the bottle of blackberry liqueur. "Though I do not think one bottle will be enough to make me maudlin." He cracks the seal on the neck of the bottle, removing the cork, and takes a swallow of the smooth and sweet liqueur, savoring the burn as it travels down his throat.  

Pallas hums against Telurin, joy percolating inside him when he hears the death knight tell him that he is relaxed and happy. He makes a surprised sound that transitions into a soft moan when the other man's tendrils wrap around his. He tended to forget Telurin could do that, being unable to move his tendrils in the same fashion himself.

Tel moves his face away to sample the drink. The priest smiles at him, then takes his other hand, trying to unfasten the gauntlet with a frown. He's too intoxicated to remove it easily.

Telurin lets him fumble with the catches for a moment, but takes it away to do it himself when Pallas looks to be getting frustrated, removing both the gauntlet he was working on and its twin and setting them aside.

"Already trying to get me out of this, hmm?" He chuckles, tapping his plate.

Pallas takes hold of one of Telurin's bare hands. He turns it around and kisses the other man's knuckles and the bones of his fingers. //I didn't get to touch you, that other time,// he sends, helpfully including a mental image of their last intimate session.

“Mm…” Telurin makes a pleased sound at the memory and at the feel of Pallas’s lips on his knuckles. “That was the point, my dear.”

The death knight uses his free hand to trace down the side of Pallas’s face and down one tendril, watching the other draenei for his reaction. It’s just now beginning to be evening, and there’s still enough light to see by in their little grotto, filtered through the new leaves of the willow tree above them.