for Dorian (makingmyway) - Fuck or die ritual sex

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym doesn't know how they've gotten themselves into this.

They'd found themselves taking refuge in a temple to some minor deity that Orym had never heard of before. Bell's Hells had made their way inside, and for a while that was all the halfling knew. Not more than three steps into the temple and he'd collapsed, struck unconscious without even a moment to react. He'd later learn that the same had happened to Dorian -- though the rest of the members of the Hells had been entirely unaffected.

The appearance of the worshippers in the temple had been met with suspicion by most of their still-awake friends, but by the time Dorian and Orym woke up, it was clear that they had no chance but to take the offered help. The temple, it seems, has been in a sort of stasis, a waiting, for the right people to step inside. Some prophecy that is now being fulfilled with a halfling and an air genasi who did not sign up for this. But they are in it now, and there is only one way to survive this curse.

Orym awakes with a start. He finds himself laid out on a stone altar, though soft, silken fabric has been draped over it -- similar to the frankly flimsy material of the shift that he's been dressed in. There are flowers in his hair, and strewn around him and for once he's not the source of them. He glances to his left and sees Dorian there, still sleeping, dressed and adorned similarly. For just a fraction of a second, Orym feels his breath catch. Dorian looks too beautiful to be real, dressed in the same diaphanous white robes, adorned similarly with flowers. Concern takes over in the next moment and he reaches over to set a hand on his chest, shaking gently.]

Dorian? Dorian, wake up.

[He sounds a bit frantic, looking around and immediately noting that his weapons are nowhere nearby. He doesn't recognize this place, the chamber large and lit by firelight and moonlight. And they're alone. Where are the others?

What Orym, for all his perceptiveness, has not noticed, is the thin band of gold that circles his neck, nor the identical one around Dorian's. Those will be a problem he'll learn about shortly.]

Comments

[makingmyway]

[ There’s no response from Dorian at first, the Genasi still ensnared in a deep sleep. But eventually the shaking does rouse him, and with a faint groan his eyes flutter open. His gaze is unfocused for a moment as he glances around, until it finally settles on the halfling. ]

Orym…? [ Slowly pushing himself into a sitting position, he winces a bit as his head throbs lightly. ] What happened?

[ As his mind becomes more aware, he recalls a little of what happened before - just enough to remember stepping foot inside a temple before suddenly collapsing. But as he glances around again, he realizes that the chamber they’re in isn’t the same as the one they had entered with the others. ]

Wh-Where are we…?

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym exhales a soft, relieved breath as Dorian opens his eyes. He's okay. A weight lifts from his chest as he watches the bard sit up, and he shakes his head at the question.]

I don't know. We were walking into the temple and then...

[Then nothing. Then they were here, and their friends are gone. Their clothes are gone and so are their weapons, they're draped in silks and flowers and gold, and Orym doesn't like the way any of this is unfolding. He lets his hand rest against Dorian's shoulder still, as if needing that connection while they figure this out.]

'And then you were chosen by the goddess herself. We have waited for ages for the prophecy to find its vessels. And now you are here, to consummate a union and bring Her blessings upon this temple and its people.'

[The voice that answers is soft, melodic, belonging to a young elven-looking man, blond hair long and bound up in an elaborate braid, wearing a robe adorned with the holy symbol that they had seen on the temple itself before they entered. He stands a ways away from Dorian and Orym, smiling at them with an almost eerie serenity in his expression.]

[makingmyway]

[ Dorian startles at the unfamiliar voice, his head whipping around until he catches sight of the elven man. He draws up a little more, one hand catching Orym’s forearm as if to keep the halfling close, as though that could really protect either of them. ]

…prophecy? Vessels…what are you talking about?

[ Dorian becomes all too aware of the sheer clothing he and Orym are wearing. Under the strange man’s gaze, he almost feels as if they were wearing nothing at all.

And as he processes the rest of the figure’s explanation, something heavy settles in his stomach as he worries that that may almost be the point. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym frowns, turning to the man who seems to have come seemingly from nowhere. The hand on his forearm is reassuring somehow, and does stop him from moving to approach the elf.]

I don't exactly remember signing up for any of this. Where are our friends? What's going?

[The elf only continues smiling.]

'Your friends are quite all right. The prophecy chose only the two of you.'

[The halfling frowns.]

Right, I think this is probably some mistake, we aren't here to fulfill a prophecy.

[A faint shake of the elf's head.]

'I'm afraid you do not have a choice. The prophecy has already chosen you, and the only way to escape it is to fulfill it.' [The elf lifts a hand to his own neck to draw Dorian and Orym's attention to theirs.] 'The goddess has claimed you as hers. If you do not fulfill the prophecy, the collars she has gifted you will steal the breath from your lungs.'

[Orym's eyes dropped to focus on the thin gold band around Dorian's neck even as he lifted a hand to feel his own. There was no space between the metal and his neck, as if it had somehow been painted on to his skin rather than placed around his neck.]

...what's the prophecy?

[The elf brightens at the question, explaining eagerly.]

'The prophecy states that two people whose hearts and souls are meant to be one, but who have not yet fully found one another, will come to this place. They will bless this temple with the union of their bodies and their souls. And once the goddess is satisfied, the collars that are the marks of her claiming will fall away. It may take some time. So we have prepared food and drink for you enough for days.'

[makingmyway]

[ The elf’s smile is unsettling somehow, but that’s becoming the least of Dorian’s concerns as he listens to the explanation. His eyes similarly fall to the collar around Orym’s neck as he reaches up to feel the one he wore. A part of him thinks to point out how he doesn’t always need to breathe, but he could only still his breath for so long. His ability would do no good after too long, and besides Orym had no such reassurance.

There is still a lot to process regarding this whole situation, but he can’t help tensing a little as the elf admits how long they could be here. ]

Days? We can’t just stick around here for days.

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym is focused less on the timeline and more on what is apparently being asked of them.

And the fact that apparently some goddess he'd never heard of before they wound up coming here somehow has his number enough to know that he has been pining intensely -- and not all that subtly if the looks Fearne has given him are any indication -- for a while now.

They're supposed to... gods, they're expected to fuck on an altar like some pagan ritual sacrifice. Are they going to be watched? Are there other people here watching? What is Dorian thinking? ...does this mean that Dorian feels the same? Orym has certainly hoped he has, but hasn't been near brave enough to bring up the issue and now this.]

He's right. We have places we need to--

[The elf holds up a hand.]

'Yes, your friends told us. We've provided them with what they needed from this place, and they have continued on. They will return in several days. Hopefully you'll be ready to leave by then. Though you may want to get started, if that's the case.'

[makingmyway]

[ The only reason Dorian is focusing on how long it would be is because he can’t imagine the rest of it. He can’t think about the feelings he’s been holding for his closest friend - holding for how long, he doesn’t even know, it feels like it’s been forever - and how he hasn’t had the courage to do anything about it. Except now, they’re actually expected to…?

Dorian can’t help sputtering a bit, a flush spreading across his face. ]

G-Get started…? You don’t just mean for us to… [ He waves a hand to the space around them in a vague gesture. ] Here…now?

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

'Yes, that's right. Here. Now. We've provided you with everything you could need. There are baths in that alcove. Please, feel free to make use of whatever part of the space best suits you. At least once the altar would probably be wise. You'll find you can't leave the sanctuary, I'm afraid. The goddess wants you here. I'll take my leave.'

[The elf goes on as if he is talking about nothing more complicated or sensitive than the weather.

Orym meanwhile has begun to turn a vivid shade of red and is very pointedly not looking at Dorian for the moment because he will probably spontaneously combust.]

Look, this isn't--

[But the halfling only gets half a thought out as the elf suddenly vanishes.]

[makingmyway]

[ Dorian starts as the elf begins to leave, and he’s halfway to getting up from the altar. ]

H-Hey, wait…!

[ But then the elf is gone, and Dorian slumps back next to Orym, his heart racing in his chest as he also purposely avoids meeting the halfling’s gaze. ]

…what…the fuck…

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

Yeah, yeah that's a really good question.

[Orym runs a hand through his hair fitfully, looking around before finally -- finally -- looking back towards Dorian.]

This can't be true. There has to be a way out of here, right? We should look.

[Orym will just pretend that he hasn't been completely called out for the feelings he's been harboring for the bard all this time.]

[makingmyway]

[ Dorian is also doing his best to ignore the fact that he’s been so called out about his feelings for the halfling. Instead he nods, combing his fingers through his hair and removing some of the flowers he finds tucked in there. ]

Right…it couldn’t hurt to look around.

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

Right. Just... be careful.

[They've already been knocked out once in this place. Orym stands and hops down from the altar, turning back to look at Dorian -- which is a mistake because once the bard stands he gets a full look at the other man dressed in the diaphanous fabric and winds up looking far longer than he needs to.

Fuck. Pull it together, Orym.

He heads over to the perimeter of the room, seeing what looks like a hallway. When he approaches though, he's met with some invisible force that doesn't allow him to pass. As he pushes harder forward he's thrust back hard enough that he goes tumbling, landing flat on his back.]

Ow.

[makingmyway]

Right…you too.

[ Dorian slowly slides off the altar, though it takes him a moment to keep his balance. As he steadies himself, he can’t help glancing towards Orym, seeing the way the robes billow around his lithe form. His throat goes dry, and he quickly looks away to step down from the raised platform that the altar is on.

He doesn’t get much of a chance to look around though when he hears the dull thud of Orym hitting the ground. ]

Orym…!

[ He rushes over to the fighter, kneeling down beside him. ]

Are you all right?

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym finds himself looking up at Dorian. And like this, with the soft light reflecting behind him, dressed in white and adorned in flowers and gold, Dorian looks like something out of a divine vision.

Orym's breath catches, and he tries to pass it off as just having had the breath knocked out of him.]

Yup. I'm good. We can't go that way.

[He's just. Going to lie here for a second.]

[makingmyway]

[ Despite the situation, Dorian can’t help a vaguely amused smile at Orym’s assessment. ]

So I see.

[ The smile quickly fades though as he glances towards the hallway, then back to the altar and the space they’d come from. ] There’s nothing back that way either.

[ The chamber is well-lit enough that he’s able to get a good look even from his current position, but it only makes his stomach twist even more. ]

Orym, I…I think we really are stuck here.

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym props himself up sitting, looking around as well. He's pretty sure that Dorian is right. They really are stuck.

It's fine.]

Yeah, I think you're right.

[He hops up onto his feet and turns to look at Dorian.]

It's fine. We'll figure this out. Let's get a drink.

[There's food and drink set out for them. They can start there. Orym lifts a hand to his neck without realizing it, the first less-than-subtle constriction of the collar beginning.]

[makingmyway]

[ Dorian remains where he is for a moment, watching as Orym walks away. The shimmering robes flowing around the fighter’s slender frame is quite a sight, and it almost feels like his heart is leaping into his throat.

It doesn’t occur to him that that might be something else entirely.

Regardless, he tries to clear his thoughts with a shake of his head before finally getting up himself, walking to join Orym where the food and drink is spread out. ]

It was courteous of them to provide such a variety of sustenance, at least.

[ Said with as much sarcasm as he can muster. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym can't help but laugh at that, shaking his head.]

Yeah, they're really great hosts.

[Just as much sarcasm, but he settles to a seat and reaches for something that looks like wine. He pours too glasses. He needs this right now, he thinks, because his mind is racing too fast to keep up with.

He slides one over towards Dorian.

Fuck. They need to talk about this.]

What the priest said...

[makingmyway]

[ Lowering himself into a nearby seat, he accepts the glass with a murmured thanks. And he’s taking a sip when Orym begins speaking, which has him nearly choking on the bit of wine he had.

Fuck. ]

About this…supposed prophecy?

[ No no no, he isn’t ready for this. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym nods. That, yeah. He takes a long sip of his wine. Then another.]

I don't really put a lot of stock in prophecies or anything.

[Another tightening around his neck, more noticeable this time as if he's being chastised for the words.]

I don't know why it decided to pick us...

[And another constriction. 'Liar.' The halfling can hear the soft, amused accusation echoing in his head. And he can't fault it. Because Orym knows why it picked him. He can't speak for Dorian, but he knows his own heart.]

We'll figure this out. [His voice is starting to sound strained now, breath starting to be a struggle.]

It's fine. [It's not. And the voice of a goddess he never asked to catch the attention of echoes in his head in that same soft amusement. 'It could be, stubborn boy'.] Maybe we can talk some... some sense... into.

[makingmyway]

[ Dorian nods as he tries to clear his throat, feeling it tighten just a bit. ]

Y-Yeah. It…It seems crazy, right?

[ And it does to him, if only because it makes no sense that Orym could ever feel the same way that he does for the halfling. He had been holding these feelings for so long, because there was no way he could tell Orym how in love with him he’s been.

‘Why can’t you?’ a voice in his head asks, and he tries to clear his throat again.

Trying to ignore the storm of emotions coursing through him, he instead focuses on the way Orym is suddenly sounding, worry creasing his brow. ]

…Orym? Are you…?

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

Maybe... maybe not... that crazy.

[He is starting to sound like he's been running, though he is trying very hard to ignore it, to pretend it isn't happening. But that's distracting him from little things like paying attention to what he's saying.]

It's... f...fine. I'm fine.

['Wrong again.' And as if to prove herself right, the collar constricts again, enough that the halfling is starting to feel light headed, and he wavers where he's sitting, looking like he might tip over all too soon.]

[makingmyway]

[ Dorian can’t help tensing a little, drawing in an admittedly labored breath.

Not that crazy…? Surely he couldn’t mean…

The thought doesn’t get too far though as he feels the collar constricting around his neck as well, starting to obstruct his own breathing. In a moment of panic he stills his breath in his chest, and it certainly helps with the pain, but it doesn’t ease the feeling as he realizes what’s happening with Orym.

Sliding out of his seat, he kneels in front of Orym, one hand cradling the halfling’s cheek as he checks on him. He can’t say anything and risk trying to breathe, but the concern and fear clear on his face. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

This... this wasn't how I wanted... wanted to tell you..

['Oh just kiss him already. This is getting painful to watch.' Orym is beyond worrying about that voice in his head right now. His vision is starting to blur, eyes not quite focused as he looks at Dorian's handsome face.

Then there's that hand and he doesn't have it in him not to turn into the touch. He can see the concern there, wonders at the silence before realizing what Dorian has done with his breath. Oh, oh good, that's right. That's smart. A smile flickers over his lips as he realizes that the bard will be okay. That's a relief.

This is about when consciousness decides it's done with him, and the halfling tips forward into Dorian.]

[makingmyway]

[ This is too much for Dorian to process, as he catches Orym in his arms, a cold wash of fear coursing through his body as he tries to rouse him.

Dammit, shit, fuck!

‘You know what you have to do to help him’ the voice echoes in his head again, and Dorian remembers how much he hates hearing strange goddesses speaking to him in his mind like this.

The worst part is that he does know what could help Orym, or at least he has an idea. Compared to what they’re being asked to do, it’s relatively small, enough to buy them some time to figure the rest out. But he hates this, because it isn’t fair.

This isn’t how he wanted to let Orym know either.

Still, he knows he has no choice now, not if they’re going to survive this. So, steeling up his courage, he carefully arranges the halfling in his arms in order to tilt his head up.

And, after a moment of hesitation, he leans in to press a gentle kiss to Orym’s lips. ]