Our Father, Who Died Long Ago

[Alistair]

90th of Ashan, Arc 718

He awoke to... immense satisfaction, a smile glued to his expression from the first trills since his eyes opened. While normally waking was something of a consequence of life, for Alistair and on this trial, it had been something to look forward to. As he awoke he viewed the sleeping body of his lover, head lain on the slope between his pectorals and the Rupturer's upper abdomen. Doran had used his partner's body as a place to lay his head, and the thought made him immensely happy; Doran had made him feel . . . masculine, on an instinctual level and one he found deeply fulfilling.

Quietly, and - hopefully - without disturbing his lover, the man stretched his arms out and yawned, reaching into the drawer beside him to see if Luden had any early morning herbs for better breath and hygiene. He'd never quite slept on this bed before, and only kept the house maintained and dusted through a Protocol imbued into his thrall, Andreas. Unfortunately, the drawer was filled with virtually nothing . . . and the man simply frowned in reaction, his obsessive nature getting the better of him as he closed it and grumbled with his throat.

Then, softly, he leaned into his lover and kissed him on the forehead - perhaps in part to bristle him with his beards and assist in waking him. Alistair wanted for Doran to sleep long and peacefully, but he also wanted to do so much today . . . and in truth, they had slept for some time. It was still dark, as they'd rested in what must have been the early evening, but with what seemed like the beginnings of the sun on the horizon. It must have been . . . four breaks into the day? Something to that notion. Early enough for Damien, considering the man did not sleep, and wished to wander the streets only in the hours of darkness.

The mage supposed it would likely be best to bring Damien here, rather than brave Kaelserad and - potentially - a first meeting with one Jonathan Burr, who the magister was far from certain of in regards to the whole cultural tradition. It was, perhaps, not a culture shared by the Etzori - and certainly despite appearances, Jonathan was deeply emotional and often erratic in his behaviors. Alistair could not risk danger to Doran, nor could he risk any of the other consequences of a meeting gone ill. This was a delicate process, one that both parties would need to be informed of beforehand. Though, in truth, a part of him wondered if he could keep the two men entirely separate . . . and live out his relationships with both of them, without any considerable overlap.

This, he would have to cover this morning. But first, he wanted the dawn of their trial to be pleasant. And, so, rather than unloading potentially unwanted factors of their relationship, Alistair greeted Doran's sleepy face with a smile and a trickle of kisses from cheek, to lips, to cheek. "Good morning, my love," he whispered. "I hope you slept well."

[Doran Cooney]

In the night, Doran's position had shifted from being comfortably wrapped around the other man, to using his torso as a pillow with his own body sprawled perpendicular. His legs were bent, feet pressed against the wall, back curved and chest pressed into both bed and side of Alistair's ribs, while his arms hung over the other man's chest and stomach, hands lolling limply with the slow rise and fall of the man's breaths. Doran's face was turned towards Alistair's, mouth slightly ajar, as he remained lost in the oblivion of sleep. The warmth of their shared bodies had been too much for him at some point during the night, and he'd managed to twist himself about the bed so that the covers were wrapped around just one of his legs. His typically wavy hair was matted to his forehead with sweat that had long since dried after he'd managed to unconsciously work himself free of the oppressive heat.

When Alistair stretched his arms, Doran mumbled unintelligibly, turning is head so his face was buried between where Alitair's chest ended and stomach began. Only just barely woken, he found that his new position didn't much allow for air, and he shifted once more, this time rotating his whole body and pulling his legs up closer to him. The first thing he consciously took note of was the familiar bristle of beard against his skin. It drew him out of his faceless dreams, and he quietly groaned as consciousness gradually returned. His neck and back were sore, and his right arm had numbed itself and was just now beginning to regain feeling, the unpleasant, buzzing bite of pain drawing him even further out of sleep.

Partially disoriented, he mumbled something as Alistair moved to kiss him, his lips moving in confusion rather than in a return of morning affection. It seemed he'd been more weary than he'd previously thought. Speech, however, finally broke him free of his malaise for the most part, and his foggy eyes seemed to regain their light as he stared back at Alistair's tender grin. It was still dark, but pale, blue light filtered in through the windows, more than enough for Doran to see without the aid of squinting. Blinking some of the sleep from his eyes, he drew in a deep breath through his nose as he stretched out his body as best he could. "I certainly slept." His voice was exceptionally soft, though there was mirth that danced through the words as he grinned in reply.

With a groan, he pushed himself off of Alistair's body, sitting upright as he used the heel of his palm to wipe some of the sleep from the corners of his eyes. "Is it really morning?" He blinked, several times, as he looked about the room with a dazed expression, tiling his head side to side to help stretch out the kinks in his neck. With a wide, unabashed yawn, he ran a hand through the mussed mess of his hair, his fingers catching at the unruly locks, but only enough to further tangle rather than assist. With a sheepish grin and soft chuckle, Doran remembered himself and who's bed he now sat in. "Good morning, Alistair."

While he still felt the gentle flutter in his chest when he looked at the other man, it was far out weighed by the deep, warm blush of affection that washed over his cheeks, the right of which still had a landscape of marks from where he had pressed himself into the wrinkles of Alistair's shirt as they'd slept. "I hope I wasn't too... heavy." He felt he should apologize, though he wasn't exactly certain of what it should be about. Feeling the considerably cooler air now that he was no longer pressed up against the other main, he flushed an even shade of embarrassment. He pulled down his own shirt who's hem had managed to creep up to about the middle of his chest exposing the pale skin of his scar marked stomach with a hurried motion. Clearing his throat, he offered Alistair a flustered, apologetic smile. "Did I wake you?" There was a gentle worry in his voice; Doran clearly did not want to be an inconvenience to the other man, and it was apparent he wasn't certain how one was supposed to act after sharing a bed for the night.

[Alistair]

Doran was cute -- if ridiculous. He awoke with sleepy, shut eyes, only to be off into the realm of worries within trills. He worried of so many things - whether he had been too heavy, or whether in fact he had been the one to awaken the magister rather than any other order. How that could possibly be the case, Alistair could only question, though in truth he found Doran's nerves and worries to both be - immensely - attractive. The mage kissed him to assuage those fears, as a smirk lit up his lips.

"You're silly," he could only reply. "Didn't I wake you, dear?" he questioned. Either way, he far from minded - Alistair had the luxury of seeing Doran, breathing in his smell, feeling his skin... and every breath. Being awake to him was a pleasure- one of life's few. Especially the more he took him in... him, and his rustled hair.

But of course, with every pleasure came a penitence. In exchange for the wondrous night they had before, Alistair had delegated himself the role of the honest man. He needed to tell Doran a slew of rather uncomfortable truths, and he supposed there was no better time than right now. He... did not want to hold off the truth; he'd already forgotten it from the trial before. This was... important.

"Doran," he began, "I am with another... too," he confessed.

He was anxious. Even though it was their tradition, he worried. Immensely. "Another man, one... Jonathan Burr. He was the second one I mentioned yesterday, that I did not explain. I've been anxious, lingering on this, for trials now. In truth I worried that you might immediately end our... arrangement and move on. And I still worry of this," he said. Doran and he had a very gentle, sweet thing between them; Alistair and Jon, something wholly different. He had contemplated keeping their lives wholly separate, living in two realms of thought, two sides to one man's life.

But he couldn't. Both of them had to know, and... if they were going to Kaelserad, they had to know now.

"I'm sorry, Doran," he simply said. "I should've let you know earlier. To be truthful, I thought Jon and I would break apart. I... did something that made him very furious. But we reconnected some when I returned to Ne'haer. And so things are the way they are now," he explained, turning his body to the side of the bed and glancing lowly towards the door as he spoke. It was... an uncomfortable thing. Very much so.

[Doran Cooney]

There was no need for an answer in words as Alistair leaned forward to kiss him. He had never cared much for romance; kissing and holding hands and being close to another person... it had all been something others did. The appeal had never found its way into his thoughts; until Alistair. Whenever he was around him, he wanted to touch him - less so desiring Alistair to do the same, but finding it oddly pleasing when he did do so. There was simply something about... everything when the other man was near. He couldn't explain it, and while his thoughts often touched on the idea of infatuation, Doran couldn't help but wonder if that was all it was. The idea of it being love he still found he couldn't quite entertain, but there was certainly something... more.

Flushed already, his cheeks ran hot beneath the smirk of Alistair's amusement, though Doran did quirk a brow at "dear". He wasn't certain he liked pet names, even when they were said in such a rolling, alluring voice, but he had no argument about his state of mind. He did feel a bit foolish and acknowledged the truth of the matter with a sheepish nod of his head, his own lips curling with embarrassment. "I... yes, right." He chuckled at himself, curving his back as he stretched out the cramps in his spine and shoulders. With a happy sigh, he blinked curiously at the other man, his state of dishevelment a testament to how well he had slept. There was a look of careful consideration in the other man's eyes, one Doran had begun to recognise as the preface to important subjects - as so many seemed to be with Alistair. "Is something the matter?"

What came next sparked several things all at once in Doran's chest, the largest of which was a perplexed confusion. "Oh." His voice was soft, airy as always, and carried an unusual lack of emotion. It wasn't that Doran didn't feel anything, rather he wasn't exactly certain what it was he felt, how much he felt it, and how such things might be expressed. His response, then, was more a verbal reflex than any true assessment of Alistair's... confession. After all, he could not be traditionally surprised in reaction: monogamy was only common upon the lower castes of Rynmere, and even then many partook of multiple lovers and romances. Rather, it was the man's delivery that cast him into such immediate disquiet.

That it was an admission, one clearly linked with Alistair's own uncertainty and hesitance, filled Doran with much the same. While it was not something at the forefront of his mind when they were together - distracted as he was by his own feelings for the other man -, Doran was still aware that Alistair was of noble birth. Whether or not he retained his title, his aristocratic lifestyle was hardly stripped away as easily as his name and holdings. He'd already seen its influence in Alistair's ideologies - morality, justice, duty. That Doran was not the only one Alistair had affections for, and actively pursued, was hardly surprising. After all, Alistair was the very definition of captivating, and Doran was little more than a bastard Ryn. Had Alistair laughingly stated such things or even gently acknowledged them, things would have been much different, but the odd glimmer of both worry and - perhaps - shame, gave Doran pause.

Then, there was the telltale twinge of betrayal. It was something unavoidable, but certainly worsened by Alistair's approach; his expectations seemingly giving validity to Doran's reactionary feelings where, in fact, there should have been none at all. Marcel had been the only other true source of any sort of jealousy or envy he had ever felt, and that had been quite subtle, as he had known full well Lily loved him unconditionally. He had already shared with Alistair his desire to remain with him - pledged that, as long as Alistair had need of him, he would always be there, to the best of his capabilities. Alistair had said much the same, and Doran had taken him at his word. His anxiety pressed against the confidence that Doran had held. Perhaps, if Alistair believed Doran might take such incidental news poorly - to the extent of breaching the assurance he had given - Alistair may not have believed his own words to be as true as Doran had imagined. It sat like an uneven, heavy chunk of bread in his stomach.

Finally, there was curiosity; his natural reaction, occluded as it was. He wondered what the other man - for he had no doubt such was the case after Alistiar's clear declaration during their game the evening prior - might be like. Was he tall and handsome? Small and meek? Powerful and worthy? He listened, closely, as Alistair continued, his eyes swimming with a mix of so many emotions, they seemed almost blank - though in the sense of his thoughts overtaking him, not in lieu of their absence.

Jonathan Burr. His name was remembered, but Doran's lips finally decided upon a shallow frown. Alistair's explanation was... disheartening, and it served to give weight to Doran's own anxious thoughts. Did Alistair truly think so little of him? The lack of trust, he supposed, was not nearly as one sided as his guilt had allowed him to believe. Doran had imagined he had been quite clear in meadow when they had shared what he had believed to be a bearing of soul. That Alistair had felt the need to withhold something so trivial as another lover filled him with doubt as to their own... "arrangement", as Alistair had called it. He wondered too if Alistair considered such things as promises made so easily broken, and his frown deepened some, a gentle sadness creeping into his dark eyes.

"I... see." Try as he might, the disappointment in his voice could not be concealed. Fortunately, Alistair opted to break his gaze away first, so that he did not see the quiet hurt in Doran's. "Am I..." He hesitated, not so much at a loss for words as possessing far too many. "Your sincere worry was that I might... break the vows we exchanged? Over another to lay claim to your heart?" His hands had since settled into his lap, voice now a quiet murmur, half of thought and half of defeated stillness. "I realise... we have spent only a handful of trials together, but I..." He sighed through his nose, his gentle dejection clearly directed at himself. "Well. I had believed my promises would be worth... more. To you."

Taking a deep breath and running both hands over his hair, he let them fold over the back of his neck a moment before falling back into his lap, another sigh released along with their descent - though this one of a more steadying nature. "I would have liked to have known, certainly, but..." He shook his head, the motion soft and hardly enough to even shift the crumpled covers of the bed. "Please rest assured, I have no intentions of... 'ending our arrangement' nor 'moving on'." Whatever excitement he might have had in meeting the other man had been near extinguished by his more sombre realisations.

He imagined much of Alistair's misgivings had revolved around Doran's reluctance to pursue a more physical relationship. That he put such little stock in words was worrying, considering it was, primarily, how Doran best expressed himself. Without the sanctity of trust in one's words, Doran had very little else to offer. The thought filled him with a heavy sort of sadness. "Will I be... meeting them today?" He smiled, weakly. There was not a hint of self-pity in Doran's words. Though he had certainly been wounded, not by Alistair's withholding of information but by the manner in which he had chosen to present it, he did what he could to press on. If Alistair had not faith in him, he would merely need to give him reason. After all, trust was built upon a foundation of time. "Damien and... Jonathan?"

[Alistair]

Doran did not take his words well. Alistair knew this almost immediately, watching the way his eyes worked and the change in his complexion. Where once they'd awoken to jovial smiles and soft kisses, the air shared by both had become thick, and neither looked fully at either for too long. Alistair... still did not believe that Doran had been upset by his words, but rather, the act of romance with another... and inevitably he was wrong. The mage had insulted him in a way unexpected - it was not that Doran felt truly insufficient due to the presence of another, but instead his disapproval came in the fact that Alistair would imagine 'another' being so consequential.

He was... mistaken, but - Alistair did not even know how to begin in describing it. It was so much more complex than Doran imagined, and Alistair's words previously had only been examples of his quiet insecurities in expressing himself. This... was not right. The man scooted closer to Doran, placing a firm hand within the small of his back and stroking his skin softly. As a physical man, this was the first destination for his apologies.

How could he even explain himself? Alistair couldn't even fully understand why Doran was upset -- he thought this was Alistair looking lowly upon him. Not trusting his words. In truth, it was more disdain towards his own vices, imagining that no one could possibly tolerate such actions so early in a relationship. It was not an expectation of Doran, but of people in general. But was that even the right way to explain it? Did Doran not want to be more than simply a standard set by Alistair?

The mage averted his eyes to the corner of the room as he thought. Then, he spoke back, speaking lowly into his words so as to make them more meaningful.

"I don't believe you an oath breaker," he stated, lips narrowing as he glanced to the smaller man. "But this is not something that many can view upon favorably, regardless of any prior promises. There are all sorts of ways to interpret my actions. One may believe that I do not feel attraction to them, thus the expression of my sexuality upon others. One may believe that my love for them is not genuine. I know we come from Rynmere... but I can't expect you to uphold our traditions. I can't expect you to simply surrender yourself to me for all eternity regardless of the context. Even though you made your promise, you did so without knowing... what it might entail," the mage explained, brows raising as his expression grew somewhat defeated.

Perhaps this was the wrong way to go about it. Again. But he couldn't always just apologize - sometimes, he wasn't wrong. And in this case, he believed it was so. Doran was wrong in his interpretation: it went far beyond promises.

He sighed. "In truth, if you had told me the same - that you were keeping a lover and intended upon staying with them - I would not have left you, but... it wouldn't have been easy for me, Doran. I would have wanted for the status of your relationship with this man, or woman, to immediately change." Alistair was a hypocrite, and he knew it. But in the context of Ryn polygamy, he was the breadwinner, the 'head of household', the one who kept the lovers... and kept many. Was it then his right to be hypocritical, as it was justified by their culture?

He did not know.

"So - you have to understand. I'm glad that you're not... wholly distraught. I'm glad that we will remain together. But please, do not mistake this for mistrust. It is more that I could never expect anyone to simply follow my lead regardless of what I do. You have made your promise to me, and I have made mine, but... if at any point I act horribly towards you, or wholly dishonest, or unloving; you have the right to leave. Do you understand what I'm saying, Doran? I can't use that promise to mistreat you. I don't want to."

And in truth, there will likely be more, though he didn't believe that adding that 'message' was greatly timed in the moment. Doran held reservations as things stood now, let alone with the thought of any further additions to Alistair's... many emotional and sexual companions.

[Doran Cooney]

It seemed Alistair was not intent upon moving on, and though Doran had offered the out, he was glad Alistair had refused to take it. The hand against his back was warm, but Doran's back stiffened, instinctively. It was one thing to be touched when he was expecting it - another when it seemed unwarranted. In spite of what he imagined Alistair might consider a refusal of his advance, Doran gently reached behind him, taking Alistair's hand in his own and tenderly wrapping his fingers around the man's large palm, removing it from the small of his back and settling their hands on his knee. All the while, he kept his eyes focused and listened quietly to what Alistair had to say.

While Doran was not quite as merry as he had been when he'd awoke, he couldn't help a small smile creep into his features as he Alistair explained. Though he still wondered at the veracity of the other man's words, he found that Alistair's potential fears were both petty and childish - aptly so, from what he'd already learned of the once-noble. The reactions, at least as far as Doran was concerned, were those of men and women who lacked confidence and faith in their partners - unfortunately, it only served to paint Doran's worries all the more vivid. If Alistair was concerned Doran might react in such callow ways, it was less a reflection of what Alistair thought of Doran, and more so an insight into his own proclivities. Jealousy had only ever rarely touched Doran's heart, and while he was glad to have met Alistair, he was not so naive to believe he had any "claim" on the other man.

Blinking, smile soft, he shook his head just slightly side to side. "I believe I stepped outside of the realm of the 'many' when I returned to Cappola after our first... encounter." He sighed, gently pressing his thumb into Alistair's palm with a reassuring pressure. "And while I may not know exactly all that lies ahead of us - clearly," He inclined his head, gesturing at the situation as a whole. "I did not make my promise without knowing what it might entail." Though his eyes were still tinged with hurt and sadness, there was warmth in his smile as he brought Alistair' hand to lips and gently kissed the man's knuckles. "Perhaps nobles are not quite as... noble, as I thought; if these are your valid fears, please understand that they yours alone."

He released Alistair's hand as the man continued, letting his own settle back onto his lap, raising a blatantly amused brow at Alistair's admission. It seemed, more and more, than the man's lack of faith was in himself and not his partner's. While reassuring in a sense, it was far too pitiable for Doran to find much relief in it. Hypocrisy had always been something of a privilege, as far as Doran understood it. Those who had the power to refuse others act in they way they did were powerful indeed, thus... it didn't come as too much of a surprise that Alistair might subscribe to such things. He was, after all, a child of the long line of Venora. There were only a handful of people he might call his peers, but Doran imagined it was difficult to consider others his equal without assuming they shared both virtue and vice of the only cohort he had ever really known. Doran shook his head, sighing gently at Alistair's puerile possessiveness. He was much like a knee scraped boy unwilling to share his toys - and worried his friends might not want to share with him.

"Allow me a summary, that I might be certain I've understood?" He had regained his composure, and much of his own confidence. The problem was one of Alistair's own doubt - something that Doran knew well as he had had plenty of his own. "Before you and I ever met, there was another man. Or men?" Doran raised a brow, though there was not a hint of caddy playfulness in his voice, merely genuine curiosity. "As our relationship was strained to begin with, you withheld your previous and current unions, so as not to... further frighten me off." He smiled gently at the idea; at the very least, Alistair's apprehension at that juncture had been well placed. "After we grew closer, you decided it time to tell me, only you struggled with... how?" Clearly, Alistair had, at the very least, tried. "All this, because you were afraid both deception and another lover or two would push me away?"

He breathed in deeply through his nose, letting the sigh out through his lips as he let his eyes fall for a moment. Nodding, mostly to himself, he met Alistair's gaze once more. "Then, allow me to share with you why I find this all so... unnecessary." Though gentle, his words carried with them a soft reprimand. "In my life, I have only ever known love for one person, and have - until meeting you - received love in turn from the same. Love is not jealously nor envy, though it most certainly can invite such things where it is found. It is... trust and understanding. Firm reassurance and tender support." His smile took on a nostalgic gleam for a moment before he continued, rooting himself in the present. "You claim to love me, and I believe you do. Or... believe you believe you do?" Doran shook his head, the wordplay lacking but point made all the same. "If that is case, I have no reason to leave you. No one," Here his airy voice grounded itself. "Not a single person throughout my entire life, has ever looked at me the way you do: with such affection and tenderness... and desire."

Sighing again, his voice lightened. "And that is why I made my own promise of my own volition. I am not bound to my word out of some greater, grander duty or... honor. I am bound because I want to be bound. Because I have made the very deliberate choice of spending all the time I can find with one of Rynmere's most wanted fugitive mages and once noble: Alistair Venora." His smile was warm. "Thus, it is my promise and my choice. And what is mine is not yours to use against me. If you tell me you love me, I choose to trust you. That someone such as you restrict yourself solely to one like me?" Doran chuckled, his mirth genuine if not somewhat reserved. "I understand you were raised as a noble and have little idea of what it is to be born one of the proletariat. But we are hardly jewels to be coveted. That you take notice at all is... more than most could ever hope for."

More relaxed now that he better understood where it was Alistair's apprehensions sprang from, he let out a concluding sigh. "So, do please try to meter out a little more faith when it comes to such matters as these. In spite of my appearance, I am hardly delicate." He tilted his head, an amused smile on his lips. "You are a rose, Alistair Venora, and I can't fault you for fretting over the quality of soil or water or sunshine. But I am a wildflower. I thrive where none should, and I need not a gentle hand to see that I bloom." Raising both brows now, Doran finished with a curious, "Now, do you have any more surprises for me?"

[Alistair]

Not all of his words were wholly heartening. In some semblance of his inner workings, he found that the mistrust between the two of them was wider a margin than he'd initially gathered... not unlike the assessment that the other had rightfully asserted not long ago. Doran continued to doubt the genuine nature of his affections, and Alistair continued in the same persistent disbelief that Doran was capable of - or willing to - fully oblige him. In his mind, he knew the truth that Doran did not, if only because Doran couldn't possibly know... as Alistair was not a man he even understood considerably.

If Doran really did know the truth - all of it - they would break apart. The things he had performed within the Coven . . . manifestations of a mage's cruelty, the exploitation that ether so often partook in to power its own vanity. His Necromancy, on its own, was vile... he had captured three souls for three warriors: Deovan, Icarus, Andreas. And beyond that, the foundation of their relationship had been attraction... and while it was certainly possible that this attraction branched out based on genuine characteristics, the root of Doran's predilections began with the disingenuous nature of the amber eyes. Sesser.

If their attraction was, essentially, a lie . . . and so too were Alistair's wholesome justifications for magic, then they could no longer cooperate, or function. And that was why, in truth, even such a 'minor' thing as a triage of suitors led him to gruesome possibilities: because the underlying truth that rested beneath any further development was one of unforgivable vices.

Doran was, and always would be, treading on thin ice... but unbeknownst to him.

He supposed, with that in mind, he could not be angered by the assertion that his love was not wholly honest. Doran worded it in such a way as to not be offensive, but he knew the truth within his circling words. Alistair was a fool, lying to himself, watching through rose tinted glasses. And... it was true, too often. Had he not loved Kleine? Had he not loved Patrick?

They faded away, now. Kleine remained by his side -- sometimes he even still called him his havendal. Alistair merely averted his gaze, only to turn to him on a lustful night... only further entrenching him in his own guilt. Vanity, jealousy, lust, fury, exploitation, dishonesty, manipulation. He was guilty of all such things on all three men. None of them were wholly safe from his mistruths and misdeeds, and he knew this. But in his heart, he knew that he loved them... all of them. Even if they didn't believe it.

He had a lot to give, one way or another. Hatred, or love. Too often pointed with the same fingertips, between the same sets of eyes. He was a broken, lost lamb.

"I am no longer a noble," he responded, staring quietly. It was such a simple interjection, laced with so little emphasis. He didn't smile, or smirk, or jeer and nor did he frown. He was merely cautious, uncertain of how to react to his words. He was certainly relieved - and even happy - to know that he felt this way. Though as always, he found that there was a sleeve of wonder and worry, wrapping around any and all of Doran's insightful whispers. Alistair didn't even know what he feared. But the man did not want it to all go away - for all of it to crash down on him. Life before them had been... unforgiving. Doran, Jon, even Kleine - they all brought him back. They offered him balance within their presence. He was much the man he wanted to be, faced with them.

All of them - which meant... one more. There was one more thing he needed to say.

"I'm sorry, Doran," he whispered, first. "I'm sorry for... not offering you the benefit of the doubt. For misjudging your devotion. I... have known little trust in this life of mine," Alistair stated, nodding his head slowly. His eyes were not faced at all with the other, but rather a distant specter of his thought, his irises clearly gone out to view space.

But then, his vision focused, as he squeezed the other man's hand and sighed. "There's one more thing I wanted you to know, before we left," he said. "There is a third - Kleine. My nurse, at Kaelserad. I... sleep with him. There is a minimal amount of romantic affection between the two of us, but - he would change that. I have not committed to such an idea, but the possibility of that changing is not wholly null." Alistair bit his lower lip, clearly nervous - but not nearly the same degree. Doran had made his point, and Alistair would take it. He couldn't always argue and come out the victor. In this situation, he was wrong. He only had to trust the other man, like he asked.

"I have... an incredibly high drive. Enough for several regular partners. And... I want more than that; I want to be the pillar of strength, and companionship, for the people who satisfy me. The people I love. So, I wish to remain in this web of relationships for the foreseeable future, and so... if you will truly tolerate this, I'm happy. It doesn't change my feelings for you. Nothing changes between us, I just -- love others too. And, yes, I do love you. I'm sorry for my worries; and I'm glad to keep you by my side." The man smiled softly, a ridiculous boyish expression detailing his face. He seemed... relieved, yet so awkward, and not for the reasons one might expect.

He had already begun to think of it - their first orgy. Of course. Him the dominant, three of his paramours beneath him. One by one, he'd --

The man exhaled, slowly. This was far from the time. Damien had been waiting.

[Doran Cooney]

His apology was unexpected but not unwanted. In fact, it was more of an honest invitation to insight into Alistair's life, rather than a singular concession. Doran, smile soft, nodded his understanding, clearly holding no grudges against him. He knew there was much of Alistair's past he did not know, and he imagined many of the events that had passed to shape the man who now quietly sat across from him would remain unknown.

His mystique was part of the many facets of his charm, but Doran found himself wondering if there was not some danger to it as well. After all, Alistair was hardly a simple man; with complexity came the inevitable snags of strife, fueled by miscommunication and misdirection - as had been made clear already. Still, he found only warmth in his heart when he looked at the other man, his own pain born from his affections. Though he could not know everything about him, Doran didn't mind, not in the moment. That Alistair genuinely tried and wasn't afraid to apologise wrote volumes, and Doran had always loved to read.

He listened quietly, his own fingers putting a gentle pressure on Alistair's, reassuring him that there was nothing to fret over. He did raise a brow at the mention of his third lover being his nurse. It hardly seemed professional. But it was more an expression of amused surprise, rather than hurt or betrayal. He nodded, thoughtfully, as Alistair explained both the situation between him and the nurse, Kleine, and his own reasoning behind his actions. It felt strange to have Alistair explain to him that, though he did not say the exact words, Doran's own reluctance towards more sexual relations only helped to fuel his desire for others. He wasn't certain how to feel about that exactly, but the thought was more humorous than anything. Alistair certainly looked as though he had quite a lot to offer in the realm behind closed doors and beneath silken sheets.

Doran's cheeks flushed a bit at the thought, but he shook his head to clear his mind and offer Alistair his reassuring words in reply. "'Tolerate' is a bit forceful, in my opinion. I am glad. Glad you've found so many to give your heart to and who are willing to do the same." He patted Alistair's hand, face still flushed but smile warm and easy. "Though, I admit, I find it surprising there are only three. I hadn't imagined you were so fastidious when it came to affairs of the heart, as I can't imagine you don't have others seeking your affection." Finally feeling as though they had come to an understanding, Doran released his companion's hand and let his feet find the floor. "I genuinely look forward to meeting them all. Damien, Jonathan, Kleine..." Turning back with a sheepish smile, he tilted his head just slightly. "But first... I would like a bath."

[Alistair]

This was... rather odd to him. Doran not only accepted the addition of others into their relationship, but... he appreciated it? Alistair's brow rose instinctively, surprised by the temerity of his partner, who clearly did not imagine that Alistair would choose one over the other, or narrow the eye of his relationships to a singular partner. Alistair, then, was glad as well. Doran seemed to understand precisely who he was, in the realm of affection . . . not a bad man, or a non-committal one, but merely... someone with a lot of love to offer, and certainly a great weight of lust.

The Archmage could only consider it humorous when Doran stated his surprise that there were only three: Himself, Jonathan and Kleine. Fastidious was one word for it, though in truth Alistair imagined he would become overwhelmed with the involvement of too many others. Doran, dear to Alistair's heart, was still a handful -- the mage's mind needed to be constantly trained so as to not... overstep his boundaries, ones that did fortunately appear to be widening. Jonathan, on the reverse, was perhaps too much; Alistair's boundaries were the ones often assaulted, and his reckless appreciation for magic had driven the Rupturer to a sort of maddened anger.

And, of course, Kleine could only be categorized distinctively, separately from the other two. Their relationship was far older, from slavery dated back arcs ago, to whispers of marriage in the language of the Horde. He was ultimately loyal, beyond anyone and anything, but... he was a guilty pleasure. And perhaps, as mutual love came so easily between the two, he felt the most remorse for Kleine... who had to watch him lay with others, confess his emotional tether to them, and ultimately expand upon his romantic life despite promises made for a life of their own.

Three was more than enough.

"I look forward to it, as well," he stated, half-lying. He looked forward to it if they didn't all attempt to slay one another. If they did, then the story changed. Jonathan, of course, was his greatest contention. Not only was he unpredictable in many of his behaviors, but -- he was an Aberrant. It was a great sickness that Alistair had elected to work with, but quite reluctantly in many regards.

Regardless, they needed to get ready. Alistair stood up from the bed, moving over to the dresser so as to consider his options for attire. He imagined... simple would suffice. Not unlike the outfit he wore now. "Take a bath, my darling," he glanced to Doran, a smile covering his lips. He was certainly happy that he'd accepted the broadened terms of their relationship, and he did want to show it. But... until Jonathan and Doran met, he could not be fully certain of the future. No celebrations could incur before that moment.

"I'll portal Damien over - for now. You can come out to the patio when you'd like to meet him." Stepping over and leaning forward to offer the smaller man a light brush of his lips, and a soft kiss, Alistair returned to his dresser and rummaged through the attire left behind by the Hunter who once lived here. He thought on the meeting that would come. The... melancholy that attached itself to Damien. Alistair could only hope that things went well; the Lich had been locked away from the trial they'd returned from Scalvoris, his abominable appearance isolating him.

At least, he could meet another friend. He could only hope.

[Nightshade Eld]

Alistair

Points: 15/15

These point CAN NOT be spent on magic.

Knowledge:
Negotiation: Sometimes your negotiating partner doesn't need persuasion

Personal: I'm Polyamorous
Doran: Accepted a polygamous relationship

Loot/Loss: N/A

Injury: N/A

Renown: N/A

Doran

Points: 15/15

These point CAN NOT be spent on magic.

Knowledge:
Acrobatics: Stretching One's Neck to Remove Kinks
Acrobatics: Adjusting Your Posture to Sleep in a Small Space

Loot/Loss: N/A

Injury: N/A

Renown: N/A



Comments: Why do I keep ending up with your threads, specifically you two? In all seriousness, though I liked this thread, it started out extremely cute and moved to extremely touching. The two of you work together extremely well, and I swear if the two of you do anything sweeter you're going to give me diabetes! I really appreciate how unsure Doran is waking up next to Alistair while Alistair is completely assured of himself in this situation like it's completely normal. Then again, for him, it just might be! The shift in tone that comes with Alistair's confession is beautifully done. The fear and heartbreak experienced by both halves of the pair is enrapturing, and I especially appreciate the conflict both go through in their own musings. I'd love to see a thread analyzing the psychology of Alistair a little deeper in relation to this topic. The rest of the thread shifts into something deeply touching and I truly can't help but adore the relationship these two have forged.