• Graded • Lunch For Schmucks?

[Patrick]

Ashan 16 718, Late Morning

Location: The Cow and Corset

Patrick stirred in his bed half forgotten of what transpired the night prior to this Trial, the better half remembered treated as some kind of wet dream he enjoyed. Sure enough when he nuzzled his face into the backside of his partner, his eyes cracked open with the realization that his mouth was parched. He cleared his throat quietly as he felt a little hoarse in the confines of his throat, probably from the rough grunting and growls he made during their early tussle last night. The fact Alistair seemed to be sleeping next to him felt nearly impossible, yet somehow the reality remained clear as day and plain enough to accept shortly after. His actual lover was here now in the same bed with him, after the time spent apart and being alone with his curse.

Pat already felt like doing something special for his companion, something unexpected given the usual nature he always displayed. Morning time romps were always fine and dandy, but this occasion called for something a little more planned out at best. Patrick stirred again but this time a little more carefully, determined not to disturb the peaceful sleep his beloved seemed caught up within. Slowly he turned away to try and slip outside the blanket, his naked frame highlighted in the morning sun shown through the open window of their room. Had it really been this late in the morning? He hadn't considered sleeping in this long, but of course he never suspected having an amazing make-up encounter with his boyfriend also.

Wait. Boyfriend just came to his mind? The thought felt strange if not uncanny to him, but a welcome change that produced a smile on his face. As he quietly knelt to grab his trousers first he watched Alistair, careful to reduce the noise he made as he proceeded to get dress. It was then Patrick notice within the mirror, just how outrageous his hair and beard had managed to grow over the seasons. It wasn't that it looked bad or anything, just a little less tamed than he approved off. So what could he do to surprise his lover before the man stir to a rose? First a clean bath and a shave seemed in order... and food definitely sounded like the best approach to follow up with.

It then dawned on him! Food!!

His eyes once more shot to the still form that was in his bed, Patrick silently moved to collect a piece of parchment and inkwell. He proceeded to write a message left behind for Alistair, and with it a few gold pieces to help the mage get his day started. Once that was done Pat then quietly left the room, determined to get a head start on his first Trial as a partner to the man he deeply loved. Once Alistair awakened to find he was alone in the room, however much later that would be, he'd find the nel stacked on that exact parchment with the message written inside:

"To-trial calls for something special for us both. Treat yourself to a nice wash up with this first, and when you're ready seek me out. You got that magic sense thing to help you of course, but no cheating by skipping that wash either! I await your arrival come noon. -P"
Location: Inn for Dinner

Noon had to be close by now as the sun seemed to reach it's peak for the Trial, and of course Patrick needn't worry about his lover showing up late either. The tether between them worked both ways after all, and although Pat never bothered using it much before; he certainly found it easy to hone into upon whim. Alistair would be arriving any moment now to find Patrick, sitting alone at an empty table within the Inn for Dinner tavern. A somewhat cozy place in comparison to the Inn they stayed at, and of course when the mage did arrive he'd find Patrick with a trimmed hair do as well as beard.

"Bout time you showed up," He teased the mage as he gestured towards the empty seat next to him, "you clean up nice by the way." On the table near Patrick was a wine bottle, already opened with one glass poured while another remained empty. "Would've waited but uh... Rharnian's can't go two Trills without alcohol honestly." He mused as he proceeded to pour Alistair some, curious to see how his lover would take it all.

[Alistair]

It was a dilemma. When he woke up, he had a decision to make: go out as Kian, with a different face, different voice, different identity... or go as Alistair. Typically in the public sphere, he wore a different mask. There were many enemies for him to keep aware of, within Rynmere and without. There was the Coven, for one. Then, there were Cassander's informants, and even the Seekers if they recognized him. While he would've liked to grow in accord with the more benevolent faction of mages, the last they'd known of him was as a Coven operative. Practically speaking, it would've been wise to wear a different face consistently, even transitioning from Kian onto different identities if necessary.

But he wasn't marked for death by the Coven, just removed from their ranks. They left on terms of discharge, not violent removal. Rynmere was the only "faction" actively hunting him, and even then, only those loyal to the King. It wasn't like most people recognized him, anyway. Even without Sesser masking his appearance, he didn't look the same as when he sat upon the throne of Oxentide. His hair was a medium brown, and he possessed an admirable quantity of facial hair. He didn't dress like a regal prince, either, but much like a regular man.

So, he decided to wear his own skin for once. Today, he was Alistair, not Kian, or Kieran Riley. He was Alistair... something, since Venora was a name that didn't feel quiet appropriate at the moment. He'd need to think of a substitute.

When deciding how to dress, the man was as meticulous as ever, and deliberate. He wore a linen shirt with short sleeves, showing off much of his musculature. For pants, he'd elected small trousers with a leather-like appearance, though in truth they were a knitted blend of materials. They went down only to his knees, and from that point onward his body was bare save for a pair of sandals. His legs, thighs and posterior had all gotten more developed and muscular of late, and so his physique looked more and more powerful and soldierly. It was clear even at first glance that he had a nearly perfect form, something he spent breaks upon each week as a method of enforcement. He wanted to stay beautiful, after all.

On his face, he wore glasses, though they had no functional purpose. The lens was mearly a curved strip of glass, with the glasses meant to look genuine for the purpose of disguise. Even as Alistair, he still possessed the same paranoia, and so any additional layer of secrecy - even merely changing one's initial impression to that of someone with poor vision - was adequate.

Upon getting ready, he followed the source of the tether to the Inn for Dinner tavern, where Patrick sat in waiting with alcohol. The place was classy enough; a fine establishment for a noble-reject like him. It wasn't like he was going to be invited to any Sabaissant-level eateries any time soon.

On the table was a Rharnian beverage, alcohol. He didn't really know what kind of alcohol it was, though. Alistair only knew wine, but at least he knew wine very well.

"You know I like to take my time when getting ready," he stated, smiling faintly. "Besides, I'm sure the wait wasn't too bad, with you drinking through your liver," he teased him, as the man poured him alcohol. He took a sniff, and reeled back slightly. "Strong - what is it?" he asked, though he only half paid attention to the answer, as he leaned in to kiss the other man.

[Patrick]

Seeing Alistiar arrive in the comfortable style he dawned brought a warm smile to Patrick's face, the pit of his stomach somehow in a fuzzy mess now that he'd laid eyes on the mage. It was definitely unusual but at this rate, Pat was learning to adjust to it quick enough. He had himself a lover once more, something he didn't count on happening anytime soon... given his current condition as a cursed individual. When Alistair reminded him that he liked to take time getting ready, the Rharnian couldn't help but laugh a little as he leaned back in his chair some.

"Well like I always say, alcohol all day from breakfast until dessert." He mused in repose to the comment of his liver. Alistair seemed to sniff and somewhat reel away, surprised by the contents of his cup as the aroma wafted in the air. "Scorra eggs." He lowly muttered with a serious look to his lover, curious to see how the man would take the joke. Either way Patrick got a good short laugh, a kiss exchanged with his Alibear before he gave a real answer. "It's a rare vintage imported from Rharne, called Stone Creek if I remember correctly. Perfectly aged too given the year, it's like the poor sods here can't handle real wine or liquor."

He grinned before he took a sip of the beverage casually, a satisfied sigh escaped from his lips as sat the cup back down. "Tastes just like home." Patrick then looked over to Alistair a little concerned, as he remembered the man hardly drank anyways. "You don't have to if you don't want to, it is pretty stout after all. I swear the inn keeper had it stocked away for nearly fifty arcs? Doesn't really matter, are you hungry at all?" He checked with a lean in close to his lover, a hand already rested on the firm muscles of Alistair's stomach. "Sorry," He apologized as he retracted his hand a little, "kinda nervous and excited that you're hear."

He then held rested his hand on the arm of his chair, open in the event Alistair wanted to hold it of course. "Still can't believe... I mean it's not that hard, but having you here with me is a little too surreal honestly." The whore muse with a soft chuckle as he waited, curious to see if Alistair was indeed hungry.

[Alistair]

Scorra Eggs? The mage's eyes narrowed as he winced. What a ridiculous... "Are you really trying to get me psychologically inebriated again? I don't think we can whip out our babymakers in the middle of the Etzori streets, dear, so there's really no..." Stone Creek, Patrick interrupted him. It was a Rharnian vintage. Okay -- likely with no drugs in it, too. He doubted Etzos' taverns voluntarily added such stuff to their beverages for an extra nel or whatever. They weren't exactly in the underground.

"I still think that despite you Rharnians and your obsession with alcohol, that Venora's vintners are better," he grinned, making a deadly claim against his lover. Patrick still seemed deeply attached to his roots as a Rharnian - which was why it was fun to shit on the culture. And there was so much material to shit on them with, like the fact that they're literally led by an aggressive drunkard Immortal who bedded Alistair's cousin, flowery Tristan, who everyone thought was the gay one until Alistair verbally came forward about it. So much material.

Patrick seemed concerned as to whether or not he would drink the beverage, and he leaned in and placed a hand on his chest, asking if he was hungry and showing genuine concern. It was... cute, and sweet. Really sweet. The mage smiled faintly, stopping the other man from pulling his hand away as he too leaned in and stroked his lover's upper chest happily. "Don't apologize, I'm excited to have you too," he whispered lovingly, offering the man a kiss on the lips. Then, he responded to his other question, "I'm hungry. And I'll drink too," he nodded with a satisfied smile. Due to a Necromancy mutation, Alistair rarely got hungry - he only needed to eat once every several days.

This was one of those several days, and so today, he'd eat like no other man... especially considering the immense work he needed to put into maintaining his figure. The more he'd built up his strength and endurance - and equally his musculature - the more maintenance he'd needed. Luckily, due to the same Necromancy mutation his muscles degraded at a much, much slower rate... but he still needed to ensure he had enough protein and nutrients to keep his body firm.

Alistair did in fact hold Patrick's hand, blushing faintly as he stared at his lover, taking in his features now that he could be more focused on his face than his... other various parts. "I can't believe it either," he spoke, quietly. "It's been an interesting last arc. I don't regret everything I did," he had to say, even though the obvious conclusion from that was that he regretted most of it, "But one thing I do wish I'd done differently is... staying with you, keeping up with you, coming to see you more often. I thought your life didn't have a place for me, Patrick, so I left your life altogether. I regret that - because I loved you. And I'm really glad that you're here with me now," he spoke truthfully, stroking the other man's fingers, and the back of his palm.

"I have a lot... a lot that I need to tell you, though. Some of it might upset you - some of it still upsets me. Some of it might make you want to step away and go back to being just my friend. I don't know. But I'm going to tell you everything, because I need to. I'm not going to conceal the truth. Are you ready?"

[Patrick]

It had greatly amused Patrick to see the reaction Alistair had with the joke on Scorra Eggs, maybe it had been a jest card played a little too soon considering. But he couldn't resist the opportunity to rile Alistair up, which was obviously mutual when it came to the choice in wine. At the remark that Venoran vinters Pat had been amidst the process of another drink, and therefore made a loud slurp from the sudden gasp he had in terms of reaction. Naturally this led him to inhale too much wine and cough a little as the alcohol burned his throat, his eyes in a betrayed wince as he rested the cup back on the table. "My heart!" He murmured between coughs as he feigned heartache, though a wide smile remained on his face when he did so. It took him a Bit before he finally got the coughing to quiet down though, with enough throat clearing to rough up his vocal tone a little.

"Damn that hurt." He mused with a look down at the contents of his cup. "Surprisingly I have to agree." He admitted with a sharp look to Alistair, a small look of knowing in his eyes. "Did you know that a lot of the brew in Rharne is mostly imported? Probably the reason why ours is so dirt cheap, since we're so busy drinking up everyone else's." He added with another short laugh and clearing of his throat. Of course when it came to checking his lover and whether or not he was hungry, Pat's advances weren't all too overbearing given the circumstances. He was a good lover in between the sheets to be sure, but miserable when it came to being openly affectionate in the public world. Probably because he never really learned how much was too much or how little was too little. In retrospect however it seemed Alistair approved well enough, the soft smile on the whore's face widened greatly with the affirmation his lover would eat and drink.

Good. This meant they could spend time doing actual bonding over something simple and ordinary, rather than just go about each other's business and meet back later for a good fuck. Patrick definitely wanted to push himself further into the 'boyfriend material' territory, but of course approached the ideal with the same demeanor as usual; just roll with it. "Excellent! I'd already ordered us some fresh cooked lunch, should be a hearty venison stew on it's way out in a few Bits or so." He remarked with a poorly made drum roll with his free hand, since the other one was currently being held by Alistair. For a moment the cursed couldn't help but sit there and watch, a genuine sort of bliss found in the comfort of Ali's embrace.

They both spoke quietly to one another and surprisingly Alistair felt quite the same, in regards to the fact the moment itself modestly unusual. Possibly because they were apart for so long, that the two had grown used to the idea before too long. Now? All Patrick wanted now as to hold Alistair close, to keep him within arms reach and never let him go like he did before. A mistake he had wound up making to be sure, the whore definitely had no intention of slipping up again. "There's always regrets to be had, otherwise you're not living well enough." He mused with another brief sip of his wine, evidently in the same boat as Alistair in terms of personal regrets over the past Arc.

Yet he couldn't fake the complete smile in his expression as he watched the passion in Alistair's eyes, his own heart randomly in a flutter as he heard the man reiterate those three same words. "And I love you." He lowly stated with a lean in close to the man, the entwined hands raised so he could kiss the back of Alistair's. Then it seemed the conversation took a more serious turn on Alistair's side, as he proclaimed to have a lot more to share really. Patrick did as well but he wanted to wait and hear out what his lover had to say, his expression plain while eyes attentively stayed focus on Alistair. He spoke with such levity and tone it almost did slightly unnerve Patrick, only due to the nature of his own insecurities more than anything. Yet he shook them away, mentally, and faintly smiled to the mage next to him.

"Say what you have to say love," He encouraged, "I promise I won't judge without trying to understand first. Plus I... have just a few things to tell you as well. But those can wait however, I want to know and understand everything personally. So that this time," As he finished the statement he clenched Alistair's hand a little tighter, "you and both can make something work out of this."

[Alistair]

A hearty venison stew sounded good. The mage showed his appreciation by waggling his eyebrows rapidly, teasing at the other man as he poked at his abdomen playfully. The two probably seemed like such overly romantic weirdos, wearing ridiculously thick rose-tinted glasses. But he didn't care. Right now, Patrick made him really happy, and he didn't find any shame in openly professing that. While Patrick was unsure of what was too much in terms of public affection, his lover didn't care in the slightest. He was not in Rynmere, where everyone had eight eyes and eight spies. No one here really meant anything to him - except for Patrick. They could gawk, or shy away. It didn't matter.

"Thank you for having a meal prepared for me, Patrick," he smiled. "I feel like a noble again already... which I guess is where I'll start, with telling you everything," Alistair stated almost casually. He was no longer furious over the loss of his nobility, just... exceptionally intent on getting said nobility back.

"Firstly, I love you more," he began playfully before recounting his tales, hoping to set a more decent mood before the tough talk came in. "Secondly, I'll start by telling you this: I am no longer a noble. The Church of Rynlism has cast my name from 'divinity', as we call it. The nobles of Rynmere are something akin to living divine, descendants of the great Sacred Seven. I, as the direct heir to Venora, was one of the most revered people within the Kingdom. That is no longer the case," he stated, directly. "It's because, due to someone that is also involved in what I'm about to tell you, the King spontaneously decided that mages are all evil. As we speak, they are being rounded up, beaten and demeaned, and hundreds are being sent to the pyre to burn like witches before the masses of Andaris. Our Kingdom has become brutal, and a brutal Kingdom cannot accept the power that might strike back against it. So mages must all go - myself included," he said, eyes staying focused on Patrick.

"As such, you and I are the same for once: common men. I'm no longer the royal, ducal Alistair. I'm just Alistair... still a Venora, but by blood and name, not holy right. My claims were forfeited, my lands were taken. This is my fate," the mage confessed.

But this was only the beginning. There was more... so much more. Too much to even start on. He'd need to take it a little slower, pace it all a little better. And the perfect opportunity came - lunch arrived, the venison stew he'd been told about. "I've fantasized about this for a whole hundred trills," he said, an attempt at a silly smile stirring up at the corners of his lips.

"Patrick, I have more to tell you," he confessed. "But I want you to know this: I am a wanted fugitive. Rynmere considers all mages to be highly wanted criminals, and I'm especially so, considering my political and cultural significance. I am a living, breathing scandal. A boogey man to many within the Kingdom, who feel both the mob-like disdain towards mages and the guilt of their own cruel action towards their countrymen. As such, I must be slain at all costs. For me, nowhere is safe. That's why... I'm going to lead into my next words: I've taken on a false identity, a false name, a different face. Kieran Riley, or Kian. You'll see him eventually - he looks wholly different than I. With Syroa's blessing, I can live as a different man. But even while I walk in his shoes, I'm still Alistair, and I'm still yours. So I hope that won't make you too uncomfortable. If it helps any, Kian is just as satisfying to look at. Perhaps even moreso," he stated, laughing awkwardly.

[Patrick]

Alistair began his first chain of confessions with the simplest of all, one that felt two-ways considering Pat could argue the same as well. But of course he didn't, he briefly laughed and remained on the receptive side with naught but a comment. "So you think." It had been just the slight murmur from the lips when he did, as the whore rubbed and poked the hairs on his chin with a thumb in contemplation. What his lover had to say felt more than just a little lofty in comparison to Pat's own year, if everything the noble had gone through took had taken place in just the span of an Arc?

Yeah. It did surprise him to learn that Alistair's noble right had been stripped away, though the concept that the nobility itself descended from Divinity? What sort of place lived with a culture like that to begin with?? Rynmere. The inner anarchist within him sort of revolted within, disturbed that people could see others as descendants of such a thing as 'Divinity'. But with Alistair there was passion in the way he spoke, a passion that suggested he wasn't so easily giving up the right destined to him. It was almost surprising for Patrick had he not known to expect it at least, a faint smile still on his face as he adored the enthusiasm his partner showed.

But it seemed there was far more levity to come with the story, as not only did he lose land and power in Rynmere; he was also being hunted down as a mage. Given his position of power he was in line for, the whore could understand why they'd want to hunt him. But whatever gave them motive to act in the way they did, what with torturing and executing mages just for their own sanity? Even the smile seemed to dissolve at the troubled unrest in his chest, what gave these people the right to carry out such barbaric actions on people with magic? Granted he wholly understood the fear behind the motive, fear sparked many horrid events when people fed into those dark influences.

Patrick himself still feared magic to a degree and he was a mage himself, no thanks to the efforts of his lover next to them as the food arrived. "Heh, what perfect timing." He commented with a short laugh towards the remark, the smile returned at the lightheartedness associated with their meal. Food in general always made people happy and it was good to see Alistair was no different, even Patrick himself enjoyed eating more than drinking and that spoke volumes. As they started to eat Alistair continued on with his piece, telling him of the different identity he's been living under. Kieran Riley? Kian? These were names that were so unlike Alistair to the whore, names that didn't carry the same weight as the noble Alistair Venora of the Rose. This identity also seemed to be associated with a whole another physical persona, granted to him through the power of his Sesser mark found on his back.

"Well then," He muttered with a few inconsistent stirs of his stew, "that's definitely a lot to weigh in. Kinda pales in comparison to all the stuff I've been through." Albeit Patrick had definitely done plenty on his own throughout the Arc. "It's all a little unsettling honestly... and a lot to swallow." He admitted with a sigh, a gentle squeeze of his lovers hand before he released it to continue eating. Though he merely took a bite of a venison chunk, and gave it a few good chews before consuming it whole. "First and foremost; No matter what shape or form you take you're still you, same you that I know inside out so nothing won't change that. Magic and I have never had the best of relationships, though that's my luck with any relationship anyways." He laughed a little awkwardly when he made that comment, but then continued to elaborate on where he was getting at.

"All the same it's a part of your life as it is mine... to a degree. I won't lie and say I'll adjust quickly as you and I both know that's never true, but I'll do my damnedest to take it in stride this time. I dunno what we can do about the headhunters though if they still pursue you, but all the same I'll protect you with my bare hands if necessary." Patrick briefly shot another soft smile to his lover before he took another bite, a mouthful of meat as he tried to ask his lover a question. "Is that all though?" He wanted to check as he felt there was more to come, and still wanted to hear whatever Alistair had to say before his own rant came next.

[Alistair]

Unfortunately, that wasn't all. It was difficult to admit, but there was so much more. One thing was certain, though: he was glad that Patrick accepted all of that. His fake identity, the loss of his nobility, the people coming to kill him. He was willing to 'defend him with his bare hands', he said, which was something quite romantic to say. The mage leaned in to kiss him after he spoke, despite some stew still lingering in his mouth... somewhere. Settling back into his seat, he smiled, and swallowed the remainder. "Thank you, love," he whispered. It was cute that they were already calling one another such endearing names, despite the shortness of their relationship. But he and Patrick had experienced a lot together, and the two of them had felt some form of love for over an arc now. They were deeply, intricately, emotionally and even spiritually tied.

"That's not all, though," he started. "This is the most difficult thing I'm going to inform you of, and above all things you must know this. I do not want this to come up at a later time under duress; I don't want it to change your feelings towards our relationship once we've already been in one for a long time. So, I'm going to give you the opportunity to walk out now if you don't want to deal with... all of the baggage I'm bringing," he admitted, lowering his eyes. "And, I don't think I can feel really good about us until you know this. I'm going to feel like I'm keeping a big secret, you know?" he said, a bit solemnly.

Then, finally, he parted his lips and came out with it. "I was in an extremely serious relationship with Fridgar, a Lotharro, and the man who allegedly tried to kill King Cassander. It wasn't true, by the way, but he's the reason the Kingdom is burning mages left and right," Alistair stated, rolling his eyes.

"This relationship... was very serious," he added. "Fridgar and I were together for a while, and we did everything together. We moved to Uthaldria together, started a life together. We got married at the temple of Thetros," he confessed, the most difficult admission he would need to make. "We had a child together, with a surrogate. She... she then killed that child, I'm told," Alistair said, his eyes narrowing even more as he attempted to hold back his grief. There was a great deal of grief. He'd lost everything - his family, his nobility, his safety, his dreams, his husband and his child. He had never fallen so low.

"So as you see, I have nothing now. I'm sorry that I went off with Fridgar. I didn't think you would ever want me, to be honest," he said, glancing back up at the Hound. "You were so far past me - the shy, meek little virgin who only barely understood what he was getting into. So I went for another, and it went... far, Patrick. And I'm still in grief, and I still hurt constantly. I can only imagine that Fridgar is dead, and in life I loved him immensely. It's not something that I'll be able to forget. Not now at least," he whispered, sighing.

His food was going to get cold, but suddenly, his appetite had died down some. That was rare, considering the aforementioned mutation. It just wasn't easy to eat and feel the way he was feeling.

"I've always wanted a son, Patrick," he said. "I had so many ideas - names, clothes, the sort of house we'd buy and the sort of room he'd have. My little legacy. And for just a moment, I had a baby boy, and he was taken away. It was four seasons ago, but I still feel the same as I did the moment I'd been told he passed. How long will I feel like this for? I don't know. But if you don't want to live a life with someone like that - someone grieving - then I'll give you the option to leave now. If not, then we can be together. Maybe I'll be able to forget. Maybe we can have lots more kids where that one came from... some way or another. Magic, the Immortals, I don't know. Butt babies," he giggled, before wiping his watering eyes.

"You tell me, Patrick. Where do we go from here?"

[Patrick]

As he suspected there existed a substantial amount of more. More weighted words as the story Alistair had to tell was another, addressed towards the very thing that Patrick tried to avoid at all costs. Not because he didn't want to know what had happened, but because he would rather not know if it meant avoiding the visible pain in Alistair's eyes. Clearly however it was something that needed to be discussed, and the mage reluctantly seemed ready to tell it anyways for the sake of peace in mind. A commendable and brave act on his lover's behalf, Patrick faintly smiled while he endearingly listened to the conversation.

"I'm not going anywhere just yet." He assured his lover with another squeeze of his hand. "Let's hear it." With the encouragement however came the internal struggle, was Patrick truly ready to deal with all this heavy weight history Alistair carried around? Part of him felt incapable of handling it and that he should just avoid it, but what would that lead him back to if he actually were to do it? Where would he go? No. Patrick wasn't going to place himself back in the lonely isolation that his world came to be, not when he still had a fighting chance at keeping his humane life intact. So with a bit more of a serious, if not uncomfortable, expression; Patrick listened closely to the words his lover had to tell him.

He remembered mentioning of this Fridgar before, the last conversation before Alistair left being that they were to marry soon. That they'd found happiness together. It had hurt incredibly so to hear those words back then, and just shortly after he'd been given Syroa's curse of Sesser. Yet to hear of their time together, hard as it felt, somehow reassured Patrick that the time shared was good for them. They had ups and downs to be sure but eventually the story took a different turn, one that Pat didn't expect to hear but at the same time easily identified as relate-able in his world. Loss had been the defining outline of his life, ever since he and Dominek were orphans left to take of each other in Rharne.

But given events like that were more a part of Patrick's history, this had been a development in Alistair's life considerably recent. He'd found someone else he believed to be in love with, settled for that person even though they made mistakes of their own, and even attempted to build a life together with him. Fridgar. Though Patrick had never had the chance to actually meet him, he definitely seemed the sort he would've wanted to meet anyways. Yet with all that went on and both lover's on their own separate path, it was no wonder neither Patrick nor Alistair found opportunity to seek one another out. Then there was the mentioning of a surrogate who turned psychopath, ultimately cementing the spiraling downfall of their dynamic love life. Now it sounded as though this Fridgar was out of the picture entirely, though where uncertainty lingered so did hope for peace in mind. That same peace that was meant to be found to-trial, now that the two lovers were reunited to share their ups and downs.

Alistair seemed to remain consistent with the mood of this story, grief filled his very being as he sat there to tell it. The ideal of settling down with a family had been one Pat had once, a long time ago when he still lived as a genuine romantic once. That time had long passed and with it, any expectation to settle for someone else. Yet... here he was. "Fuck..." He murmured with a turn in his chair so that he leaned on one arm more, his fingers held over his lips as he seemed to contemplate everything he just heard. It was... a lot. More than he anticipated hearing honestly. He had half expected some 'heir' business before, but nothing so tragic as the ending which he'd been given. It truly seemed that despite all their differences, the two had something to keep them together after all. He looked to Alistair once more and though he didn't smile, he still genuinely felt sympathetic.

"Hey," He muttered with a soft tug at Alistair's hand, "C'mon over here a Trill." It seemed awkward and unusual at first since it actually came from Patrick, but his grief struck lover seemed willing enough to comply with the notion. When he rose up from his chair Patrick readjusted his sitting position, and pulled Alistair over onto his lap with arms brought to embrace the noble man. For a moment there came a silence between them, but after a sigh finally escaped Patrick that silence quickly broke. "Y'know I've never told anybody about my own past? Nobody but Dominek knew this when it happened, but I too once had a relationship I felt that way about. A long time ago. Except... well her last relative died and she wanted to leave after that. I didn't... so she left anyways. And ever since then I've never been straight or honest with my feelings, and not once considered ever settling down with anybody again."

He gave a gentle squeeze to Alistair with lips pressed on the man's shoulder. "I'm terribly awkward with this sort of stuff even now, but after all that I've heard I already know; I don't wanna leave or go anywhere unless it's with you." In the event his words caught Alistair by surprised, Patrick chuckled and suddenly found a faint smile formed in his lips. "You and me? We've been through a lot together, as well as alone in our own worlds. What you've experienced? I've experienced in other ways to completely understand, and that pain honestly won't go away as much as you want... but overtime it becomes easier to manage, or least I've managed to discover when I dealt with it." One of Patrick's hands then rested over the man's chest, directly over the beating instrument buried within. "Point is... my life has been a lotta misery compared to some, misery I've spent plenty of nights drinking away. But after all this time I never once thought I'd meet, yet alone fall in love, with someone so special who could come to understand that misery."

"I'm by no means perfect for this shit, hell it feels weird for me to be talkin' about it now. But no matter how weird it is, underneath it all I feel nothing but love and compassion for you. Alistair. Because I understand the hurt and suffering, I don't want to walk away from that. I'd rather try and make it all better, because for the first time in a long while I feel like this is something that I can make work." He told the man in almost hushed whispers, his mouth close to the man's ear as he looked back down to the bowls of stew. "Aaand if you don't intend to finish that bowl, somebody's gonna have a second helping in a Bit." He added as a tease to mediate any heavy thoughts associated with the mood.

[Alistair]

Somehow, despite the gravity of his confessions, Patrick was very calm. He didn't overly react to anything, and he maintained an understanding look and a compassionate energy to him throughout the whole conversation. He wasn't judging him, and he wasn't displaying any level of disgust at the thought of Alistair engaging with another man, marrying him, any of that. He just wanted to tell him that he understood, and that it would be okay, and that he would be there for him to make it all better. For a moment, he was almost skeptical of it all. Was this really the Patrick he knew? Alistair loved him, but for so long he thought there was no point in such feelings. But now, something had really fundamentally changed. He had become a good, loving man. For a moment he almost thought of his own family. If only his father had been as tender and caring to his mother as Patrick was being to Alistair right now. So... understanding.

And, of course, the embrace came. The mage gladly sat on his lap, sinking into him as his partner caressed him and brought him to a point of relaxation. Alistair nodded as Patrick spoke, smiling faintly at many of his words. He had nothing but love and compassion for him, apparently. All of this all at once - so much kindness. It was almost difficult to live in after how inhumane the world had been of late. Alistair was convinced that nothing would ever go right again. But he at least had one thing. Finally.

"I'll finish the bowl!" he exclaimed, fidgeting from atop Patrick's lap as he tried to lean forward and take a spoonful of the stew. It was good, just... not as good as this conversation. This connection.

"Patrick," he whispered, "Fridgar was good to me. He loved me. He was kind," he complimented him, unwilling to simply take shots at him and move on. He had to come to terms a better way than that.

"To Fridgar," he said, lifting his glass from the table, as a slippery mess of tears started to fall from his eyes. He didn't whimper or sob - the tears just came, quietly, without much impact other than the visual. It was all he could allow; he'd had four seasons to cry and regret.

"And, now my dear," he whispered, taking a sip of the alcohol before turning back to lay a passionate kiss on his lover's lips. "To us. Patrick and Alistair, the Hound and Rose. To our future, to our legacy, to our lives. Lives that we won't let end. Because finally, after so long, we matter to someone else. Let's keep alive."

. . .

After that, Alistair was nothing but kind to Patrick, for the remainder of their lunch and evening together. He was walking on a cloud - laughing at far more than what he should have, entertaining every thought. The stoic, calculating man opened up more and more to his lover, accepting that the man before him was likely not only his first love, but his last. He decided to make it count.

Then, leading Patrick back to Cydonia - his flagrantly named Etzori home - the two spent the night together as they often did, before fading into a surprisingly tranquil rest.