[EL NYSA] IC INBOX

[flashystyle]

●●○○○ THESA

Dorian Pavus
@sparkler (33), Tevinter, Thedas

CONTACT

IGNORE

I WAS A: Incredibly privileged know-it-all with a family complex. I got better.

I'M SKILLED IN: Talking about myself excessively. Calling everyone names. Also, some magic and archiving.

I'M LOOKING FOR: A way to stop feeling so helpless in the absence of home.

ALSO, I'M: Very tired. All the time.

Comments

[priorly]

Perhaps between us. As a code name.

[It's not that Prior's telling people so they'll never be able to think of it as anything else, of course.

But, in answer to Dorian's request, Prior just leans forward and tugs on the breast pocket of his button down.]

He gets highly indignant whenever I try to leave him in a box.

[flashystyle]

So he's just like his mother already.

[He grins from ear to ear, but after a moment, he realizes he doesn't want to put his hands anywhere near it. So he hands off the bottle to Prior.]

To be fair, I'd also be highly indignant if I were left in a box, when the alternative is you.

[priorly]

He lacks a mother, [Thank you, Dorian.] I'm arranging a collection of benevolent uncles, instead.

[And what the fuck, you put your hands on a snake.

Anyway, Prior has no such qualms, but there's no need for either of them to hold it. At the smell of something edible, a sleepy little face appears over the pocket edge. Prior edges carefully back to a chair where it's easier to balance while holding the bottle.]

Do you want to live in my pocket, too? I had no idea you had aspirations to be kept.

[flashystyle]

Then you haven't been paying attention, dear Prior. That's all I aspire to.

[He winks, moving away to go place the remaining bottles in the fridge. And then various fruits. And vegetables. This bag he was carrying? Very full, and he didn't know what all to bring for when it actually eats.]

If there is any particular order to the benevolent uncles, I'd like to be the first.

[priorly]

I don't mean this negatively, but I'll have to get a larger jacket.

[Watching as Dorian unloads, and unloads, and unloads the bag like some kind of medieval Mary Poppins, Prior shakes his head.]

And refrigerator, apparently. Did you stop at the market or just crash into every stall and catch what fell?

[flashystyle]

Neither. I stepped into the market and all the merchants recognized me, falling over themselves to gift me with such a bountiful harvest. No, I insisted, it isn't necessary, but there isn't much you can do when they're so in love with you.

[He hums, shutting the fridge door and pilfering from one of the cabinets. He's been here long enough to know where all the cheap liquor is stored.]

I figured whatever it doesn't eat, the boys will. And if they boys don't, then you can make them eat it as some sort of punishment for some inevitable wrongdoing they'll do.

[priorly]

[Wait, wait wait. Prior's voice suddenly drops to danger Will Robinson levels.]

The boys. Is that supposed to be Byerly and Miles? And what does that make me, their mother?

[flashystyle]

[He blinks, looking back at him with brows raised in amusement.]

I'd say more of an underpaid nanny. Am I wrong?

[priorly]

...Yes.

[Fairly significantly, actually, enough that Prior's leaning back in his seat just to gain the space needed to correct this error. There's an uptick of one finger around the baby feeding bottle, announcing the lecture.]

Just because a person has some feminine traits does not indicate they take the female role, in the kitchen, the bedroom, or anywhere else. Not that there should be such a thing as a female role, it's a tired old cliche that sends men in dull suits off to dull jobs while far more fabulous creatures stay home to do housework. I have never been anyone's nanny, as sexless a role as that is, and if anything Byerly's more likely to cook for me.

[flashystyle]

[God, he can't remember the last time he actually listened to a lecture that he himself wasn't giving. Despite his inclination to be indignant and defensive, he only sighs, leaning against the threshold to the kitchen. Eventually, sheepishly:]

I apologize, Prior. I meant no offence, to you or to them.

[priorly]

[He's not angry, it's just a mild ticking off. Prior's stern expression cracks into a smile as soon as he's done.]

Oh you can offend them, that's fine. It passes the time. Just don't mistake me for anybody's mother figure. Like baby gophers, I dislike being put in boxes, and god knows I feel unalluring enough without being stuffed into that one. Now come over here and help me nurse this powder puff.

[flashystyle]

[He ducks his head with a relieved laugh, moving back towards him but starting just short of the chair. He's not any more eager to touch the thing, and there's something more important for him to address first.]

You never have, and never will be unalluring. You should know that. Even with that little creature to distract from you.

[priorly]

And a cane and [His hand brushes the purple bruise at his throat. Dorian's seen more of those, now: his arms, and below a collar bone.] well, never mind me being maudlin. Are you afraid of mice?

[flashystyle]

And none of that matters. [He says, dismissively, attention going on little Furrily.] Of course not. But one doesn't touch mice. It gets fur everywhere, no matter how you wash.

[priorly]

[A pause while Prior looks down at his decidedly furless self, and back at Dorian, eyebrows raised.]

[flashystyle]

[He's running out of excuses.]

It might pitch a fit if it's not with you.

[priorly]

It needs socialization. You can't be first uncle if you won't come near it, I'm not raising a hamster with a complex.

[flashystyle]

It wouldn't be my nephew if it didn't have a complex. It's tradition.

[priorly]

We're not revisiting the sins of the family on its newest son. [This gopher is absolutely going to turn out to be a girl. With a little scooping motion, Prior holds it up.] Come on, it's no hairier than that thing you wear on your face.