[ Dorian watches Orym, trying to take in his reaction even as his mind is racing. So when Orym looks away, he mistakes it as the halfling’s disappointment, maybe even something worse for the situation he’s now ended up in.
And as much as it hurts, Dorian can understand that. This is certainly the last thing he wanted. He never wanted to own Orym, like he was some sort of property. He wanted Orym to be free, to have a choice of where he wanted to go, who he wanted to be with.
And selfishly, he never wanted Orym to see him like this; to know who he had to pretend to be as Brontë Wyvernwind, the Secondsun of a powerful noble family who didn’t always measure up to the expectations his parents placed on him. He’d always felt more like himself as Dorian, especially when he was with Orym.
But now that Orym was here, he would see him being Brontë all the time, and the halfling was meant to be…what, his servant? His attendant? Something…else? What had Cyrus planned when he’d bought Orym’s debt to “give” the halfling to him anyway?
Whatever his brother’s intention, it all settles uncomfortably in his stomach. But so does the thought of sending Orym back to the brothel. As bad as this situation is, he can at least make sure Orym is treated well here. And it gives him more time to figure out a way to free him, without worrying that something might happen to him when he isn’t there.
Here, he can at least protect Orym.
So he shakes his head and hesitantly, as if afraid that it wouldn’t be welcomed, he reaches to take Orym’s hands in his own. ]
No…I’ll figure something out. You’ll be safe here, and I’ll take care of everything.
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And as much as it hurts, Dorian can understand that. This is certainly the last thing he wanted. He never wanted to own Orym, like he was some sort of property. He wanted Orym to be free, to have a choice of where he wanted to go, who he wanted to be with.
And selfishly, he never wanted Orym to see him like this; to know who he had to pretend to be as Brontë Wyvernwind, the Secondsun of a powerful noble family who didn’t always measure up to the expectations his parents placed on him. He’d always felt more like himself as Dorian, especially when he was with Orym.
But now that Orym was here, he would see him being Brontë all the time, and the halfling was meant to be…what, his servant? His attendant? Something…else? What had Cyrus planned when he’d bought Orym’s debt to “give” the halfling to him anyway?
Whatever his brother’s intention, it all settles uncomfortably in his stomach. But so does the thought of sending Orym back to the brothel. As bad as this situation is, he can at least make sure Orym is treated well here. And it gives him more time to figure out a way to free him, without worrying that something might happen to him when he isn’t there.
Here, he can at least protect Orym.
So he shakes his head and hesitantly, as if afraid that it wouldn’t be welcomed, he reaches to take Orym’s hands in his own. ]
No…I’ll figure something out. You’ll be safe here, and I’ll take care of everything.
[ I’ll take care of you. ]