#dorym aurelius

[crossingbard]

A Chance Encounter

Summary:

Fresh-faced adventurer Dorym Aurelius has come to the realization that he had not done nearly enough research on Ul’dah. Unbearable climate and strange residents, he wonders if this was the right choice.

Notes:

Ao3 Link. We are starting our hero’s story just before the events of the MSQ. He is a wildwood Elezen, and at present a thaumaturge.

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Dorym Aurelius walked the market streets of Ul’dah, thanking the twelve as the sun dipped below the horizon, taking with it the worst of the excruciating heat. All the research in the world on this place could not prepare him for these conditions.

He was positive that no one was meant to live like this.

Yet, despite all forces working against it, Ul’dah remained one of the most prosperous city-states in Eorzea. It was little wonder why a budding adventurer would choose this place. Especially someone like Dorym, who hardly had the gil to pay the fare, let alone expenses upon arriving. Jobs were hard to come by too. Ul’dah may have been prosperous, but its people could be pretty cruel to those who were not from there.

His copper plait bounced lightly on his shoulder as he “window” shopped the open-air markets, taking note of which vendors sold goods that he would find useful…when he had the money. But, for now, his best bet was focusing on a place to buy a meal for the night.

As he rounded a corner to head up towards the Quicksand when he found himself being slammed into by someone.

Dorym stumbled back, frustration flickering across his features as the stranger apologized, “I—ah, sorry. I appear to hit a bit of a scrape and—” he looked the Elezen up and down, “You’ll do perfectly, actually.” The next thing Dorym knew, he was pulled into the shadows of a staircase as the stranger whispered, “Pretend to embrace me, and I’ll pay you. No funny business on my end, I swear on my life.”

Dorym blinked once, twice, before looking over this man himself. He was decently tall for a Hyur, but even at Dorym’s short stature, he still stood nearly a head over him. Was his hair ash-blonde? Silver? The twilit sky made it hard to tell. Handsome and offering to pay him? Strictly for pretending to embrace him? Well, that was the most straightforward job Dorym could think to take.

The stranger started getting antsy as he watched the taller man look on in confusion. Before he could give up and try and find a new place to hide, Dorym wrapped an arm around him dramatically and placed a thumb over his lips, pressing his lips to the thumb, separating them only by an ilm. He then pushed the body against the stone wall, now cool to the touch in these late hours as he shielded the stranger with his own body.

Even though he did not find it remotely possible, Dorym found himself getting even warmer. Ul’dah was a desert, no water for miles, but the man before him smelled of an ocean. His hands were calloused, and his arms were strong, but his face, so close to his own, was soft. So what kind of scrape did he get into that made him ask a stranger to hold him in the shadows like a lovestruck teen?

It was not much longer before the sound of footsteps and voices could be heard, and the hyur threw his arms around the Dorym’s neck, going full into the dramatics. When they faded, he tapped his gloved hand to the taller man’s chest, giving him the cue to back away. The stranger’s face seemed red too, likely from the running and stress, Dorym decided. He ran his hands through his hair and said, “Sorry about that, friend. You must not be from around here; you’re dressed awfully for the heat. Maybe invest in some looser clothing? Regardless, know that I appreciate the assistance!” He grabbed a handful of gil, then the Elezen man’s hand, placing the coin in it. “Though, next time, you need not make it so formal. It doesn’t have to be theater if you don’t want it to be.” He gave the taller man a wink, and as quickly as he appeared, he left.

Dorym’s face flushed deeply at the suggestion. How dare he? He was the one who wanted a performance! And now he was criticizing him for giving what he’d requested? He stared out to the open street where the man disappeared into the crowd of people. He didn’t even get a look at the people who chased him.

Ul’dah was quite strange indeed.

He looked at the gil and stared agape at the amount.

“Invest in some looser clothing,” he said.

There was enough here to do that and pay for food and board for the next two days. Maybe Dorym should consider taking up a career in the theater if it paid that well. His expression then shot up as he realized something.

He never got the man’s name.

[crossingbard]

Late Night Revelations

Summary:

After Dorym’s run-in with the Syndicate and the mysterious enemy’s golem, Thancred had gotten word that the adventurer was acting differently. With this information, he is, admittedly, a little concerned. Only a little, though, as he waits for Dorym at the Quicksand for…several hours.

Notes:

Ao3 Link

This one was a little bit harder to pin down. It's been interesting finding the right story beats to write about because there are many small things that are important to Dorym's character growth.

I may eventually do a multi-chapter work of shorts, but for now I do want to focus on the little song and dance these two have going on.

Thancred Waters was far too busy for this. He knew this, and he repeated it to himself every so often as he nursed his cup at the Quicksand’s bar. Was he far too busy to tail the adventurer? Yes. Was he also far too busy to wait at the bar for him? Also, yes. Still, here he was sitting in front of Momodi as they both waited for the adventurer to return.

After their last encounter, he would be a liar to say he was not concerned. Getting on the Syndicate’s bad side was no joke, and after following up on the merchant, he wanted to make sure the intrepid hero had not met the same fate. In addition, those fainting spells of his were nothing to sneeze at.

Momodi teased him briefly for seeking out a partner instead of just having them flock to him as was his wont. He rebuffed all her points, reminding her that he was strictly here to study aetheric disturbances and that now this man was a person of interest.

“Interest on whose account? I can tell you right now that he’s just a normal guy. A very handsome but normal guy.” She smirked at him, and he rolled his eyes.

While he could not deny her point, he mentioned that he was not interested several times. It was not that he didn’t like men that way, but they certainly did not pique his interest quite as often. He was also starting the leg work on granting him an audience with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, so he knew well enough to refrain even if he was interested. “Yes, quite right you are. Anyroads, you tell me he’s been acting differently. Would you be so kind as to summarize these changes?”

“Mmm…After Dorym's last major mission, when the information on his whereabouts happened to slip the records, he’s been distant. He’s still quite pleasant, mind you. If I didn’t know him, I wouldn’t have noticed. He comes down here, picks up a job, leaves. He’s pretty damn efficient about it, so I can’t complain too much. I do miss the conversation, but if you’re going to visit more often, I think I might survive.”

Thancred laughed at the comment, “You are quite the flatterer, Momodi. Is he expected back soon then?”

“What can I say? I enjoy the entertainment you bring with you.” She shrugged, grinning, “But yes, he should be back soon. He just had to check in on a local mining dispu—and speaking of.” She nodded her head towards the door, and Thancred threw a glance over his shoulder, trying not to make the waiting too obvious.

He stood from the bar and winked at the proprietress before pointing at a table. She gave him a knowing nod and went back about her business. He kept his head down until the sound of a chair scraping on stone met his ears, causing him to look up.

“Is there aught I can do—oh, it’s you.”

Thancred laughed, “And here I thought we were on good terms. I know you’re not waking up in my arms, but it can be arranged if you like. You need only say the word.”

The adventurer smirked and rolled his eyes as he sat across from him, “I did not mean it like that, my apologies. Mistress Momodi said someone was seeking after me. I was not expecting you, is all.”

Thancred waved him off, “I jest, friend. But, yes, I have been seeking to follow up with you since our last encounter.”

He raised a brow, “I did not take you as one to seek after a wayward adventurer’s health.”

“Just yours.” He noticed the other man stir in his seat, fussing with his hair, and could not deny that he felt some satisfaction from that. Still, he did not want to give off the wrong idea, so he added, “You know, despite your fantastic luck, not every adventurer finds themselves in the middle of aetheric disturbances. Fighting flying eyes and giant golems every week or so is not as normal as you’ve been lead to believe.”

The mention of the creatures removed any trace of mirth; Dorym only nodded.

“So, how do you fare? Mistress Momodi wanted me to pay a pretty penny for that information, alas, I do not have the coin, so I figured I would take time out of my schedule to check on you myself.” A lie, he knew, but Dorym didn’t, and he did not need to know how long the other had been waiting either.

He was quiet for a while, then sighed, “I would like a drink first if we’re going to talk. I can get yours too if you’d like. What are you having?”

Thancred gave the other his order and looked back at the bar to make sure the man was not trying to use this to leave the conversation. He stayed true to his word, though it looked like he had something to say to Momodi, who only laughed. When the glasses were set down at the bar, Thancred turned back in his seat and waited.

The glass was set in front of him without pause as the other took his seat once more. The look on his face made it appear that he was debating how much should be shared. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass and sighed once more before drinking, “It’s been better.”

Thancred leaned forward and smiled at him, attempting to get him to open up, “Is this something you wish to speak of? I would be more than willing to assist if I can, my friend.”

Another stretch of silence as he stared at the glass. This time, Thancred found himself shifting in his seat. Eventually, he took another long sip and spoke, “No shortage of contempt from the great and the good.” The anger in his voice was palpable. “He simply thought to change things. To make things better. If that is what happens to people like that, it is no wonder people do not seek change despite themselves.”

Thancred remembered the merchant that they had met. A handsome younger Hyur who had happened to get on the Syndicate’s wrong side. It was indeed a shame; he had to admit. “Yes…I see. You know, the stance of the Syndicate is not standard among the many.”

Green eyes looked at him, unimpressed, “Maybe so, but those who stay silent only aid the oppressors.”

“...Right you are there. But, listen, I will not deny that what happened was not unfortunate, nor will I say that this is an uncommon occurrence. It should not stop those who seek such change, though. You would be quite surprised with the waves one person can create. Yesterday, a young merchant, tomorrow…well, perhaps it may even be one very charismatic and able adventurer to shepherd those who seek change.” He smiled at the other man, who stared down at his drink, his cheeks coloring.

He had let Minfilia know of the adventurer, though the jury was still out on if it would be worth it for him to learn of the scions. Sure, he was promising but promising only meant so much when new adventurers were wont to bite off more than they could chew. Perhaps it was just his intuition, but there was something about this adventurer. He was different, Thancred could tell.

Thancred reached across the table and placed a hand on his. “Dwell not on what could have been done, and perhaps focus on what can be done to prevent it from happening to others.”

He kicked himself for the hypocrisy of his words, knowing damn well he was here because he felt terrible for not showing up soon enough to help in the fight. He was not one to preach about living without regret.

Still, his word must have taken root because since they started talking, maybe since the incident as a whole, Dorym smiled genuinely. Thancred could not help the blush that crept up his neck at how radiant and warm such a sight was. Momodi was not off the mark at all when she called him handsome. He smiled back, forgetting himself as Dorym slid his hand out from under the Hyur’s. Upon noticing, he took his hand back, a little too quickly, and used it to support his glass.

Dorym smiled broadly at the other, “I appreciate this. I know I must do better. I will be alright.” He swirled his drink again, lost in thought.

The Hyur blinked at the quietness that overtook the other, “Might there be something else?”

The Elezen looked up at him and nodded. “It is a bit of a silly request, I must admit.”

Thancred eyed the mage curiously, “You? A silly request? Perish the thought. What need might you have? I will do my best to fulfill it should it be within my power.”

That beautiful smile grew, and he sat up straight, taking another drink as he started, “You study aetheric disturbances? What does that look like for you? What can you tell me about it?”

This…was not what he was expecting.

Still, he acquiesced and provided the curious man with what information he could give. He spoke not of the other scions nor the primal threats they were investigating. It was all very rudimentary knowledge on aether, but Dorym was able to use the information to formulate some interesting follow-up questions. He was pretty insightful and a quick learner.

They spoke and drank for hours, though neither of them noticed. It turned out that Dorym, despite having no formal background, fancied himself a scholar. His interest in magic seemed to be entirely academically inclined, even down to his decision to come to Ul’dah. It appeared that it was partially because he was fascinated by the history of black and white magic and how they may be combined and partially because of the city’s reputation of prosperity. The mage happily took note when the gladiator mentioned the other magic guilds and their backgrounds, fully intending to check them all out.

“You know what they say about a man with his hand in too many pies. One might advise against too many disciplines at once.” Thancred teased, though Dorym did not seem to catch the joke.

He rolled his eyes and stared him down once more, and there was a playful tone in his words as he spoke, “As if you’re one to talk! Do not presume to know me, sir, for I am more capable than you realize. Let not a few fainting spells in your presence discount my ability.” He then let out a laugh.

“What might you mean that I am not one to talk? I am but a simple gladiator!” He leaned forward, trying to discern the man’s words despite his drunken state.

Dorym laughed once more and, when he tried to speak, lost his words as he laughed even more. This time, it was Thancred’s turn to stare Dorym down until he could compose himself. The Elezen met his gaze and, with all seriousness, said, “Pray tell, sir, how many “disciplines” do you have your hands in that a shadowy encounter with one poorly dressed foreigner slipped your mind?”

Thancred froze.

“Shit.” It all made sense. He felt the pangs of familiarity even at the Sultantree, what he was sure was their first meeting. Sure, he was dressed differently and carried himself differently hells even his hair was worn differently, but it was still obviously the man from a few weeks ago.

The look on his face must have been priceless because the Elezen was in tears, “I cannot believe you never realized!”

“Well, it was a stressful time—”

“It’s fine, dear. Worry not.” He wiped his eyes and then held out his arms, showing off the newer clothes, “It’s not my best fit, if I’m being honest, but your advice and generous coin were instrumental in my humble beginnings. ‘Tis a shame you spent it on using me as some sort of decoy and not getting the Mistress’ information, else I could have spared you the revelation.”

Thancred’s face was bright red at this point, and the alcohol was not helping in the slightest. He looked up and saw Momodi hiding behind a hand and giggling, showing that she had undoubtedly been listening in. “Were you ever going to say anything?”

“Hmm? No. Not really. But I do not let slights against me pass if I have the means to give a rebuttal.” He was no longer looking at him as he smugly swirled the remaining ice in his glass.

The gladiator scowled across the table, “So you just let me play the fool? Was that enjoyable for you?”

“Oh, this has been quite enjoyable. So, tell me, now that you remember, is this the type of informality you meant?” He steepled his fingers and leaned forward with nothing but a wicked playfulness in his eyes, “Or would you prefer the parley we’re engaging in be even less formal?”

This man was a menace.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, acutely aware of how much his features resembled that of an angler. “Dorym, listen. What happened—”

Dorym laughed again and grabbed the other’s hand, holding it with both of his, “You do not need to explain, dear. I told you, I took nothing personally, nor do I regret it happening. What I do know is that I greatly appreciate that I got to know the mystery scoundrel; for not only is he handsome and witty, but also very insightful and a great conversationalist.” As he pulled his hand back, Thancred found himself wanting to catch it.

He made a note to watch himself. He was drunk and would not sleep with the man he was trying to recruit. Work and play did not oft mix well.

“Yes, well, I am glad that I could make your arrival a story worth telling, though I ask you to refrain from sharing it.” He cleared his throat and fussed with his collar, “As for your other points, wit is typically at its best when matched with someone of equal or greater skill, and a conversation only works well when the other person can provide a meaningful contribution. You are quite an interesting one, Dorym Aurelius.” He stood and felt his head spin, “Alas, I fear I’ve spent too much time here. This simple check-in went a little longer than anticipated.”

The man pouted, pulling at Thancred’s heartstrings. He could stay here all night; he wanted to, but the balance was off now, and he was unsure of his ability to converse competently anymore. Here he was, worried that Dorym found their conversations awkward after passing out twice in his presence, but it was Thancred making a fool of himself this entire time.

Dorym rested his chin on his closed hand and looked up at the man, “Of course, of course. I will not keep you, but before you go...” He gave Thancred a soft smile and, with softer words, said, “I want to thank you. For everything. I did not get to thank you at the Sultantree, nor with the golem….”

The Hyur’s brows knitted together, “I did nothing at the golem. I was late, and you were injured because of it.”

Dorym beamed at the other man. “You still showed up. ‘Twas plenty helpful. Same with our conversations tonight, you did not need to show up, but you did. They’re little things, but they add up. I daresay this might be the best evening I’ve had so far in this hellish place.”

His first thought was to offer to make the night even better elsewhere, but he knew better. Still, he smiled, happy that he could assist in any way. He bowed deeply and with a flourish, “And may you have many great nights to come. Fare thee well.”

He saw Momodi, chin resting in her hands with a very, very smug grin looking directly at them when he stood. He noted that he would have to have a word with her later and turned on his heel and left, knowing damn well that looking back would cause him to lose the rest of his night.

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Dorym Aurelius watched the man leave, and once the door shut behind him, he let out a sigh. The night sky peeking in made him acutely aware of how much time he lost in conversation. He chuckled to himself as he stood and stretched. It had been a while since Dorym was able to have that much fun in conversation.

He loved being a tease, but he did worry that he may have pushed it too far. The other man was undoubtedly a flirt but also almost certainly straight. It was the same game Dorym played, after all. His preference may have been men, but he was no stranger to crossing gender lines for coin or information. It was likely the same story.

Still…a man can dream.

[crossingbard]

A Royal Reception

Summary:

Thancred and Dorym find themselves at the banquette being held for the Sultana.

Notes:

Ao3 Link

Just a little thing I wrote on the way to work ahaha. I am a big fan of the "see each other from across the room" at a party trope and wanted to play on that.

Thancred Waters looked around before loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Banquettes were all well and good, but the song and dance of it all was insufferable. He looked out at the merchants and nobles, frustration pulling at him. What a silly charade this all was. He scanned the crowd, and his eyes caught a glimpse of a glowing red, like metal in a forge.

The man was wearing a long blue duster, only acceptable in this climate due to the late hours. His white shirt was secured with a cravat, a bright green stone at its center that matched his eyes. The blue stone earring that hung opposite his silver ear cuff marked him as the man of honor. He sipped at his drink, but his eyes would not pull from the handsome man. His hair was worn similarly to the day they first met, the long loose copper braid draped over his shoulder instead of the messy high ponytail he wore when he was out and about. He moved about like a leaf in the wind, keeping a courteous smile as he talked to the nobles.

A good actor too, it seemed, judging by their last conversation.

He considered making his way over there, saying hello to him. Honorable intentions only, he told himself, trying to tame the blush overtaking his features. He did not want to interrupt, though, so he waited for the next part of the banquette. He was unaware of how long he stared, but he was pulled out of it by those same green eyes meeting his, piercing him from across the room. He tried to cover up with a grin and waved. Much to his surprise, the man beamed back at him and worked to excuse himself from the conversation when a glass clinked.

It was time for Raubahn’s speech.

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Dorym Aurelius hated everything happening here. He was no stranger to pretending among the upper class. Thanalan nobles seemed no different than Ishgardian nobles in that sense. Speak their praises, ask about their grotesquely lavish jewelry, mind your tongue, and speak not of other nobles unless they are spoken of first, else you may uncover a blood feud.

Even the jewelry he wore felt much. In addition to his cravat, the earring he had been gifted felt heavy, and he felt as though he was acting above his station, but Papashan assured him everything would be fine. He made his way back to his friend every so often in an attempt to reign in his sanity. The humble “stationmaster” was at least realistic.

He talked to him about the agenda for the rest of the evening. Soon, a speech, and then another hour or so of conversing as more food was brought out. A nagging feeling pulled at him, as if he was being watched, so he knew he would have to go back to socializing soon enough. He looked around, trying to figure out who could possibly be targeting him for his attention, when he met a pair of familiar brown eyes.

His shirt was tailored, showing off his figure, and he had at some point undone the top buttons of his shirt and loosened his tie. His usually messy white hair was tamed and styled, the bangs still mostly there but slicked back. A flirt even in this stifling place, it seemed. He was also likely drunk, given his flushed face. Still, another normal person was refreshing. He grinned and moved to excuse himself from Papashan, who, when he saw Thancred too, rolled his eyes and shooed him off.

As Dorym moved to push through the crowd, a glass clinked, and he stopped.

It was time for Raubahn’s speech.

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Crowds shuffled about after the Flame Commander’s speech. Now that the Sultana was on the floor, things had gotten more hectic. It even seemed that people who were not there before had shown up to speak with her. Thancred frowned and tried his best to pin down his friend’s location. For an Elezen, this should not have been a significant issue; however, Dorym was no taller than some Hyur and was lost amongst the elite. He should have known better than to seek him out. Dorym was the man of honor, and Thancred was but a scholar, only allowed to attend by virtue of being the Scion stationed to Ul’dah.

He may not have seen the Elezen, but he did catch Raubahn cutting through the crowd and followed him with his gaze. Upon looking ahead towards the man’s destination, he saw exactly who he had been looking for. Hidden in the shadows, it was no wonder Thancred had not spotted him. It looked as though he used the Sultana’s entrance as a means to back out of the limelight altogether.

He made his way there slowly, not wanting to interrupt his conversation with the other man. He worked through the crowd, greeting those he came by and exchanging pleasantries when a loud gasp cut through the room. Everything stopped, and he looked at the source to see a small lalafellan woman, pointing at the adventurer, now passed out in Raubahn’s arms.

He couldn’t be serious. Again? Here of all places?

He pushed through the crowd now, giving his apologies as he did so. He made his way to the larger man and gave him a nod. “What’s the situation?”

“Ah, Thancred, excellent timing. We were speaking on the history of Ul’dah, and it seems he fell asleep!” He spoke loudly, the crowd around him becoming placated as he let out a laugh. “If you could bring him to the Hourglass? My duties are going to keep me here, unfortunately.” He then set the Elezen down as Thancred leaned in, and this time, in a whisper, “I have reason to believe that he is one of Hydalen’s chosen. He showed me a crystal he had picked up as we spoke.”

Thancred nodded and undid another button on his shirt so he could have more free movement. The other man was taller, but he was light as a stick, making the task of carrying him much more manageable. His breathing was relaxed, combating the stern expression on his face, likely from whatever vision he found himself in. He knew of these well enough, having witnessed Minfilia react to such things. He let out a sigh...At least he was with Raubahn when it happened, he thought.

Of course, you're happy it was Raubahn. No one else would have passed him off to you.

He pushed the voice aside and, with a huff, made his way to the Hourglass. He was different; his intuition was correct. He would have to tell Minfilia immediately.