formmusebox | for Dorian (makingmyway)

for Dorian (makingmyway)

Dark Orym AU

[The world has changed significantly in the months since the Apogee Solstice. The ceremony, the plans of Ludinus Da'leth had not gone exactly as expected. But they had, in the end, been successful enough. Predathos itself had not been fully released, not physically, but the very essence of it had been called down from Ruidus, broken out of its chains and left with only one choice of where to go.

Orym had been in the wrong place at the wrong time -- or perhaps the right -- an attempt at dislodging the obsidian-like orb that had been the Raven Queen's Champion, the Tempest's Lover. The machine had fired anyway, and for the halfling who had been caught straight in that beam, everything was pain and red.

When he woke, he hadn't been himself. Not entirely. He remembered everything, knew who he was, but he was something more now, something that hungered for so much more than Orym had ever desired. His own desires remained, though they'd been turned to near desperate obsessions. He would not lose anyone else that he loved in this absurd struggle; he would not allow it. It was that reflexive need brought on the bright and blinding flash of light that sent Bell's Hells and their allies scattering to the winds, teleported far enough away to be safe in a very broad sense of the word.

As the lights faded and the smoke cleared, as Ludinus and the rest realized what had happened, Orym had felt this new power course through him. And soon everyone came to know it. He'd killed Da'leth and Thull with little more than a glance. A swift death was more than they deserved for what they had been responsible for, what they'd done to Will and Derrig, what they'd tried to do to Laudna. From there, well, Paragon's Call and the Ruby Vanguard answered to him now. Orym, formerly of the Air Ashari, now of the Red Moon. Soon the world would answer to him, and this ridiculous play of gods and monsters would be over.

At his command, his forces have been trying to locate and bring back the rest of his friends. If he can keep them close, he can keep them safe. By now though, he knows that his friends have banded together to fight him. It stings, of course it stings, but he knows that they just don't understand. It doesn't change that he cares for them, and his people have been given strict instructions that while Bell's Hells and the Crown Keepers are to be fended off, they are not be irreparably harmed. They are dear and precious to Orym, and his anger while still quiet and subdued is lethal these days.

He misses his friends. Most nights he holds the sending stone and calls out to Dorian, just wanting to hear his voice, to know that he is safe. But there never seems to be an answer. It doesn't stop him, and most nights the words are simple. 'I hope you're okay, Dorian. I just want to hear your voice again. I miss it. I miss you.'

Today the skirmish that has broken out has been a violent one. Sometime during the fighting, Dorian seems to have been separated off, and the bard has taken a significant amount of damage. Maybe that's what has brought Orym actually out to the battlefield. He so seldom joins the fight these days, but this.

This requires his presence.

Dorian is here. Of everyone that he's wanted to see, the Air Genasi is the one who has had his heart aching the most, the feelings that he'd done so much to try to hide for Dorian's sake, no longer feeling that need to be hidden. Who else could protect him better than Orym? No one. He can give Dorian the world if he wants it, anything.

So when Orym slips in on the edges of the fray, when he sees one of his mages level a spell that sends Dorian sprawling to the ground, the halfling's voice rings out, stern and unyielding.]

Enough.

[He punctuates the words with a gesture towards the Paragon's Call member who had made the attack. A crimson hand appears and wraps itself around their throat, squeezing the life out of the solider slowly.]

You will not hurt him.

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[Orym sighs quietly, glancing off towards the window, the growing reds of the sunset. But then the night sky pulsed red these days, the glow of Ruidus brighter than ever, the ley lines still flaring like an aggressive aurora once the sun has quit the sky.]

The gods were always going to die. It was their time, past it really. Their end, this change, it's inevitable.

[He looks back to Dorian and there is that flash of red in his eyes before he shuts them as if he's fighting for control of himself, opening them with their usual green once more.]

I've gentled it, Dorian. It doesn't care if it shatters the planet to end them, if every creature on the surface of the world dies in fire and ruin. I won't let that happen. The gods must die, but not at the cost of the rest of Exandria.

[Now he does step forward again.] And not at the cost of losing you. I know, I know you've been sheltered too much in your life. But this isn't a cage, Dorian. This is a sanctuary. Until the worst of this is done, until a new world is born.

[ He startles a bit, seeing the way Orym’s eyes flash red before they’re green again. And he’s conflicted once more, because he knows this isn’t right, that Orym would normally never agree to a life like this. That he’d never think that lives, even those of the gods, should be sacrificed. If there’s a way to fight back, he’d take it.

But what must it have been like for him all this time, sharing his body with this being? Having to keep it under control all this time? Having to shoulder this…all by himself?

How much has he been fighting all this time? ]

…that’s what my parents used to say too.

[ This hurts, it hurts all too much. He isn’t strong enough for this, and he doesn’t move as Orym steps closer. ]

How long would a world like that take, Orym? People are already suffering for this “new world”. How much longer will people have to suffer before it’s supposed to be safe?

We can’t stand idly by while everyone else is hurting. You know we can’t.

[ It’s what Orym would have done, not too long ago. ]

Edited 2023-04-09 07:34 (UTC)

As long as it must. And people have been suffering for the gods since the beginning of time. This is the first time there will be an end to it. But all change is hard.

[That may be an understatement really.

But those are the questions really. Since the moment this other entity made its home inside him Orym has struggled, has fought to keep some piece of himself, some control over this. He has tempered at least the most violent and destructive parts of what Predathos wanted with Exandria, and it is exhausting. The only thing that has kept what shreds of his sanity remain intact is the thought of his friends and keeping them safe.

He draws his sword suddenly, but there's nothing violent in the motion. Instead he flips it so that he's holding it by the blade, setting it down in Dorian's lap.]

You aren't a prisoner here, Dorian. Not really. You can leave whenever you like, on one condition. Kill me, and you're free. That's all. I won't raise a hand against you.

[He even slips off his shield and rests it leaning against the bed.]

Before you do, I want you to know that I love you. That I'm in love with you. I have been for a long time.

[There might be some part of Orym that hopes Dorian will do just that, that he'll end this now while he still has enough of himself left to still exist in the end.]

[ He doesn’t have an answer to that. It’s true, people have suffered even under the gods. But he also knows - or at least, has been told - that Orym has had this argument before, only he’d been arguing the opposite side. So is Orym really saying all these things, or is that Predathos’ influence on him?

He tenses when Orym draws his sword, but his wariness shifts to confusion as it’s laid in his lap. And as Orym explains, his eyes widen. ]

I -

[ It’s something that they’ve all talked about before; that killing Orym might be the only way to kill Predathos. And the chance is here now, he would be able to end it all.

But his hands tremble as his fingers tangle tightly in the sheets, because he knows he can’t. He can feel all his strength crumble away as Orym confesses, his heart shattering completely, his eyes burning with tears as he hangs his head. ]

I…I-I can’t, Orym…I…

[ This isn’t fair. All he’s wanted for so long is to hear those words from Orym’s lips, to know that Orym felt the same way he did. But not like this.

And he knows he’s being selfish again. He has an opportunity to end all of this, to do what he and his friends have been trying to do for months and stop this. But he’s selfish, because he knows he can’t bring himself to kill Orym, no matter how that might help everyone else.

He’s far too in love with him to part from him now. ]

[Orym watches him sedately. Inside Predathos is raging, but for the moment at least Orym manages to hold him at bay, waiting for Dorian to take the sword. It would all be over, and maybe that might be a mercy. But Dorian doesn't take the blade, and he hears those words, that broken tone of voice.

His own heart aches and he reaches out to lay both his hands over one of Dorian's where it clings to the sheets.]

Then stay with me, Dorian. Help me remember who I am. It's hard... it's so hard. He's so strong. Stay by my side, and help me keep my heart by letting me give it to you.

[If he can hold onto some part of himself, this will be fine. He can keep the worst of Prdathos's destruction at bay while making this world into a new one.]

[ Dorian tenses as those hands - so gentle, so familiar, so not like what he’d feared when he’d heard Orym was taken over by this thing - take his, and he finally lifts his head again to look at Orym.

Swallowing thickly, he then slides out of the bed, taking one of Orym’s hands in his as he kneels in front of him. ]

…All right. If all I can do is help remind you of who you are, then I’ll do it, gladly.

[ And if he stays close, maybe he can find a way to save Orym without killing him. Find a way to send Predathos back to where he’d been locked away before, and free Orym. ]

I’ll keep you - the real you - safe in my heart, always.

[Orym watches silently as Dorian kneels before him, at his eyelevel now. He can see the pain that lingers in those pretty blue eyes, and he'll do whatever he can to soothe it away. Unfortunately that whatever he can has turned into something of a frightening thing these days.]

Thank you.

[He means those words. The part of Orym that is still himself fully recognizes how easily that last bit could be lost. And he needs to hold onto it as long as he can.]

And I'll keep you safe too. No one will dare to hurt you again.

[One hand lifts to brush the back of his knuckles against Dorian's cheek, at the same time as a wash of magic joins it, bathing Dorian in calm and security, serenity, a promise that everything is good, that he is safe and loved so much, that everything will be fine, that he's exactly where he belongs.]

I love you, Dorian Storm.

[ Dorian’s breath hitches softly, and the part of him that recognizes the sensation of magic is quickly drowned out by the feeling of calm and ease that suddenly washes over him, soothing away the worry and confliction that he can’t even remember why he’d been in such a state in the first place.

Eyes softening a bit, he leans into the touch of Orym’s hand as he breathes out a small sigh. ]

I love you too, Orym. I have for so long…

[ The words come unbidden, untouched by whatever is affecting his mind. ]

[There, that's better. Orym hates seeing Dorian in distress. And here it is again, the best of intentions twisted into something that Orym as he once was would never have been okay with.

Now though, now he only smiles as Dorian leans into his touch, his gaze softening as well.

There is a moment -- one brief flicker of something -- in his eyes, awareness or desperation or warning, who can say, when Dorian speaks those words back to him. But it's there and then gone and Orym steps closer to wind his arms around the other man.]

You don't know how happy those words make me.

[That much is true, has been true. And the words Orym offers next, maybe they're meant as some sort of proof that he's still who he was -- just changed, just improved.]

That day, just before the solstice, the last time we talked. I wanted to tell you so badly. But I didn't know if I'd live through what was coming, and I couldn't do that to you. So I thought I might never get the chance.

[ A soft sound rises from Dorian’s throat as Orym’s arms come around his neck, and he wraps his arms around the other man’s waist to hold him closer.

With a soft sigh he takes the chance to rest his forehead against Orym’s. ]

I thought about telling you too…but I was so scared. Then when everything started happening, I was worried that I’d never see you again, and that you would never know how I felt.

[Somewhere deep down Orym hates himself for all of this. But maybe in the end he's too weak after all, too weak not sink right into those arms around him, to breathe in everything about the man in his arms.]

I know now. We both know now. And there's nothing to be scared about anymore.

[He'll make certain of that.

The entity inside him is pleased too, as if allowing his host this, will placate Orym, soothe him into resisting the greater plan less. There is so much to do yet.

At the same time, the line between the god-eater and the halfling is blurring, and Predathos can feel the curling possessive need to keep Dorian close as well. His. And anyone who dares to touch him will regret their entire existence.]

[ He nods a little, and buries his face in Orym’s neck. ]

Yeah. And we can just…stay like this, right?

[ The tone in his question holds something more than curiosity, though. Something almost doubtful, a bit concerned, remnants of his earlier reluctance still peeking through the magical effect. ]

[Orym sinks his fingers into Dorian's hair and nods.]

That's right. We can stay like this as long as you want.

[His forces would move without him. He could communicate with them from here. And for the moment, all of that could wait anyway.

Another soft pulse of that magic, a gentle soothing of that doubt.]

My Dorian.

[Orym would protect him. He would make him see the reason in what he was doing, in the world he would create. They could rule it together, side by side, to set people free from all the senseless suffering in the name of entities that do not care for them.]

[ Dorian breathes a relieved sigh, the lingering uncertainty fading from his chest as those fingers comb through his hair. He holds Orym closer, nuzzling into him and feeling completely at ease.

Like he’s right where he belongs. ]

Mm…yes. Only yours.

[Orym smiles at the words, and inside him, so close to the surface, that other essence feels a darker coil of pleasure at that. Yes, good. His and only his. Perhaps it is evidence of just how intertwined the halfling and the god-eater are becoming.

For the moment though, the darkness stays submerged and Orym tightens his arms around Dorian for a long moment.]

I've missed you so much. Let me stay with you tonight?

[ Dorian can’t help a faint chuckle as he draws back a little to meet Orym’s eyes. ]

Of course. I’ve really missed you too. It’ll almost be like old times, huh?

[ Though without Fearne it’s still not quite the same, and the thought does squeeze his heart a little. ]

Almost.

[Orym smiles again, reassuringly.]

You'll see the others soon, I promise.

[Because Orym will see them brought to him, no matter what resistance they put up. He is not going to take chances of losing them. Besides, Liliana wants to see her daughter, and he can't deny her that. She's been so instrumental in bringing him to this place.

Those thoughts could wait though. Now, now is for Dorian. For making up for lost time and for firsts.]

Kiss me? [It's phrased as a request, but there's certainly something running deeper in his tone that has become used to not being denied.]

[ Dorian smiles, even as the promise settles uncomfortably in his stomach, like it’s…wrong, somehow.

But he doesn’t have much time to think about that as Orym’s request quickly distracts him, and he can’t help blushing a little. Despite being nervous, though, he nods. ]

O-Oh…! Um, yes…okay.

[ Taking a breath, he shifts a bit closer, meeting Orym’s eyes for a moment before he slowly leans in, letting his lips brush against the other man’s, slow and hesitant at first. ]

[The blush is endearing -- and Orym is pleased to see it, really, evidence that Dorian's misgivings have subsided. With a little help, of course, but what's a small bit of magic just to set this beautiful man at ease.

He smiles, trying not to let his breath catch at just that soft, tentative touch of lips. But he has been waiting for this moment.]

That's perfect... [He purrs to him before Orym initiates the next kiss, less hesitant. This is his.]

[ Dorian’s heart threatens to beat out of his chest as he kisses Orym, gentle and slow. This is all he’s wanted to do for so long, but he worries that it won’t meet Orym’s expectations.

So he can’t help visibly relaxing when Orym speaks, and he feels the praise against his lips. He doesn’t have a chance to respond, though, when Orym kisses him again, and his own breath catches at the intensity of it, so different than his own. He can’t help melting a little against the other man with a soft sound, leaning more into the kiss. ]

[Orym winds an arm around Dorian's shoulders, fingers sinking into Dorian's hair and gripping tightly. He lingers against Dorian's lips, tilting his head just slightly to better align their mouths, catching the other man's lower lip between his own, a brief scrape of his teeth.

There's a possessiveness in him, almost desperate. He will keep Dorian safe and protected and with him.]

[ He shivers a little as he feels that arm come around him, at those fingers in his hair, the way they seem to fit together so well. Wrapping his arms around Orym’s slim waist, he pulls him closer, holding the halfling flush against him to deepen the kiss.

But Orym nipping his lip surprises him a bit, and his lips part as he gasps softly. ]

[They fit together perfectly. Orym thinks they have waited far too long for this, considering they never had the chance for it at all. But they'll have more time now. Forever.

Those parted lips are too good an opportunity to pass up, so he lets his tongue dip past them, slow and deliberate.]

[ A soft moan rises from his throat, muffled between them as Orym’s tongue finds his own. The overwhelming taste and scent of Orym sends a rush of heat pulsing through his body, pooling dangerously into his core, and he holds the other man even tighter against him in his own desperation. ]

[The desperation in that hold is not something Orym could possibly fail to notice. It's everything that he's wanted, everything that he's felt, and with the way that so much of his own hangups and inhibitions obliterated by Predathos crashing through him and settling inside him, well, he's perfectly eager to chase that up, to lean into it.

He breaks from Dorian's mouth just enough to speak, words shaped to the other man's lips so the words can be felt as much as heard.]

Do you want me, Dorian?

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