#even with Varlen's unfortunate costume mix-up

[thereluctantinquisitor]

“You–uh–spooked…my heart.” for Dorlen because honestly I can actually SEE Varlen saying that line xD

Pfff this is PERFECT VARLEN DIALOGUE indeed! Many thanks, friend!

Pavellan. Dorian Pavus x Varlen Lavellan (approx 1500 words)

“Come on, Varlen –dance, yeah? Get out there! Shake your butt or something!”

The sound Varlen madein response to Sera’s urging was akin to a wounded animal begging for the sweetrelease of death. He shook his head, a tall drink of something in one hand, the other fighting for freedom as Seratugged it insistently towards the dance floor. “I don’t want to,” hecomplained, attempting the subtle art of wriggling free without spilling hisdrink. “I just want to drink and go home, Sera. You’re the one who wanted toparty.”

Fixing him with a flatgaze, Sera heaved a sigh and released him dramatically, the way one drops asoggy sock. “What, so you got all dressed up and stuff just to decorate thewall?” She gestured to Varlen’s costume, one brow arched so high it nearlyvanished beneath her fringe. “Can’t have been easy wriggling your way into that.”

In a sense, she wasn’twrong, but it really hadn’t been Varlen’s fault. At the last minute, he hadordered a batman suit online, but when it finally arrived… well…

Let’s just say he hada whole new appreciation for catwoman.

“I can’t dance in this,” he protested, gesturing at theoutfit. “I can barely breathe in this!” He groped around behind him, then brandisheda long, thin strip of black fabric. “I have a tail.”

“Pshh.” Sera justrolled her eyes. “Be grateful you’re not in heels or nothing! Now go on. Tenminutes.” She nudged him in the ribs playfully, swapping to a sing-song voice.“Dance for just ten minutes and I’llstop bugging you…”

Some battles were notdesigned to be won. Varlen let out a tight breath – mostly courtesy of the suit– and took a long, deep, steadying drink. “Fine,” he gasped once he had drainedalmost half the glass, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand and slappingit down on a nearby table. “Ten minutes. Then I’m going home and peeling myselflike a banana.”

Sera snorted at that,giving him a push in the direction of the dancefloor with the heel of her palm.“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“No stripes. Not funny.”

“Sourpuss.”

The dancefloor was asmuch of a nightmare as Varlen had anticipated. He winced, music throbbing loudas a heartbeat on a silent night, and he swore his own was breaking its properrhythm to match that of the bass. It was always an uncomfortable sensation, particularlythe more he thought about it, but he reasoned he only had to put up with it forten minutes.

What could possiblyhappen in ten minutes?

He started to move;small, awkward steps at first, not entirely sure how to dance to thatparticular style of music. It was so fast that he doubted it had been designedfor human beings. But he gave it his best, certain that Sera was lurkingsomewhere just outside the dancefloor, watching, making sure he upheld his endof the bargain. More people joined in the fray, and soon there were bodiespressed tight against Varlen, blocking his view of pretty much everything butsweaty skin and the alarming amount of fake blood. Always with the fake blood. Monsters and ghouls and sexypretty-much-everything jumped, bounced, raised their arms and shook their hair aroundhim. Varlen tried to share their enthusiasm – to lose himself in the cacophonyof noise and sweat - but fell so far short of the mark that he wasn’t even sureit existed.

It was all too much.The heat, the bodies, the loud, thumping, angry music. The catsuit. Varlen was pretty sure he might sweat himself into a stateof dehydration if he didn’t extract himself from the makeshift mosh-pit soon,so he started wriggling, trying to push his way through an imaginary gap. Hewasn’t short by any means, but the press was a difficult thing to fight. Justas he was considering dropping to the ground and waiting for some burly mandressed as the Hulk to notice and carry him to safety, someone grabbed him bythe shoulder and pulled sharply backwards.

Yelping, Varlentipped, throwing his arms out but meeting little more than the forearms andwaists of the other dancers. Just as he began picturing his fate, trampled to deathby Sexy Spongebob, he was caught beneath the arms and extracted from the thronglike a child from a pool, and probably twice as soaked. Gasping, Varlen pulledout of the person’s grasp and whirled, ready to give whoever had manhandled hima piece of his mind. But the angry tirade lived a short and futile life at theback of his throat, dying before it even reached his lips.

Standing before him,tall and dark and dazzling, was the most beautiful Grim Reaper Varlen had everseen.

Death – because Varlendid not know his name – flashed him a smile, raising his hands in a placatinggesture. “Apologies. You seemed a mite distressed. I thought I might lend ahand.” To emphasise the point, he turned one gloved hand, revealing theembellishment that gave it the appearance of something skeletal. Varlen wasstill reeling from the shock of being faced with quite possibly the mosthandsome man in existence, but Death clearly took his silence as a bad sign.“I… hope I did not frighten you, snatching you like that. Small window ofopportunity, you see. It was then or never, lest you succumb to the undulatingmasses.”

Blinking, Varlenregained a modicum of composure and shook his head, a blush crawling up hisneck. Or perhaps it was heat stroke. Hard to tell in a catsuit. “N-No! No,that’s not… I wasn’t—”

Say something charming, the voice in Varlen’s head screamed as hestammered through the sentence. Look himin those gorgeous grey eyes and be witty you lycra-swathed muppet!

“— You–uh–spooked…myheart.”

Sometimes, Varlentruly wondered why he ever left the house. The blush that had been lingering onhis neck boiled up to the tip of his ears and Varlen winced, reaching to hidehis face in his hands. Oh god. What wasthat? Spooked my heart?!?

Then… laughter. Lowand amused and almost… fond. In sheerdisbelief, Varlen lowered his hands and fixed Death with a hesitant look, apart of him certain the man was about to mock him and stride away. It would bewell-deserved, all things considered, so he braced himself for it.

But instead,quartz-grey eyes caught Varlen’s, and a smile spread across that handsome face.“Well… that is undeniably a new one,I will give you that,” he said, echoes of laughter chasing the words from hislips. “I have always found myself rather drawn to originality.” His gazeflicked down, a brow rising in what was either approval or horror. Or both. “My.That is an… interesting choice incostume. Bold, if I do say so myself.”

Varlen felt the urgeto wrap himself in a towel or something. At that point, being naked wouldprobably be preferably – at least he wouldn’t be so damn hot. But considering he did not have a towel or enough time to freehimself from his lycra prison, he did the next best thing.

He planted his handson his hips, struck a pose, and owned it.

“You like it, huh?” heasked, the redness of his face doing its best to betray his attempt at bravado.“Figured I’d try something a little different, y’know? Shake it up a bit. Rockthe catsuit.”

Death arched his brow,but the smile never left his face, even as his gaze drifted back up from itsappreciative lingering to rest on Varlen’s face. “Oh, I do,” he replied simply, in a voice smooth as velvet. “I imaginethat was quite the task to slip into. And out of.” He blinked, as thoughremembering himself, and held out one skeletal hand. “Where are my manners; DorianPavus.” He smirked. “I would have you know the name of your mysterious rescuer.After all, I intend to take full, unashamed credit.”

Varlen grinned, takinghis hand. “Not so mysterious, now that I know who you are,” he remarkedplayfully. “I’m Varlen. Thanks for the save back there. It was getting a littleclose for comfort.”

They smiled at eachother. Shook. Stopped shaking. But for whatever reason, neither man let go. Amoment passed, then two, the pair of them just standing there, staring at theirclasped hands, the music thumping, the dancers cheering and jumping andspinning, the lights blazing past to the rhythm of the DJs booth. Yet, even asthe ‘shake’ stretched well beyond the point of traditional comfort, neitherseemed even slightly willing to break contact.

“Do—” Dorian began.

“— you want to get outof here?” Varlen finished hurriedly. Both men broke into matching chuckles, andDorian nodded, a glittering sharpness to his gaze that made Varlen’s knees goweak.

“Excellent.” Heturned, throwing back his cloak, gesturing gracefully towards the door with thehand not currently holding Varlen’s. “Now… care for a date with Death?”

Varlen’s grin justgrew wider. “Hell yes.”