Percival gets a full look at Essek before he disappears beneath the housecoat. He's never seen his husband quite so dressed down, and the sheer fabric of the camisole is--it's rather appealing. It's not the first time he's realized just how attracted he is to Essek, but it's a bit flustering to be reminded of it in such an intimate space, which they will be sharing for a while.
He doesn't stare, though. He has the decency not to and he turns his attention toward the spread when Essek asks about it. That is, he manages to give the food his attention for a few seconds before getting caught up in watching Essek remove some of his jewelry. Get it together, de Rolo.
"Nothing too heavy," he says as he sits back. "It smells like a curry over rice and there's bread here. Then as much fruit as either of us could ask for."
The warm spices likely won't be too hot, but Percy is looking forward to the flavors that are so readily available in Emon.
"That sounds wonderful," Essek says sincerely. Curry is something of a staple food in Kryn culture. Spiced mushroom with a light, tangy vinegar sauce is usually the default, a traditional dish found in taverns and eateries and on tables from the Coronas to the Lucid Bastion. Grown in sprawling farms beneath Rosohna, mushrooms and tubers are naturally a prominent ingredient in many recipes, and Essek has found himself missing the particular flavors of home since his relocation. Not that he expects this curry to taste anything like the ones he's familiar with; a different base, and likely different spices. But the touchstone is something he appreciates nonetheless.
The food has been arranged over the low table in the corner of the room meant to be used as a sitting area, with two lounge chairs flanking it. Essek settles in one of them with a sweep of his housecoat that's nearly as graceful as his cloak.
"Shall I serve?" he offers. Traditionally the role of a host in his culture, but if this keep is an extension of Whitestone, then that should be considered his role as much as it is Percival's. Essek is already reaching for a bowl and serving spoon before his husband can answer, lifting the covers from the larger serving bowls to begin doling out helpings of rice and curry. A thicker, creamier sauce than he's used to, but it smells appetizing.
Percy settles into the other chair and he can't help but smile when Essek offers to serve.
"Yes, thank you. I'll pour, if you like," he says with a gesture to the bottle that came with dinner. Whatever it is, he trusts it will compliment the meal. He takes a deeper breath as Essek uncovers the curry. He's fairly certain at least some of the spices come from Marquet.
This is a more intimate occasion than their usual dinners together, served in a small dining room with a servant or two lingering just outside open doors to see to whatever they might need. Tonight it's just the two of them, and, outside of social occasions, it's likely to be similar for the rest of their stay.
"How are you feeling about tomorrow night? I thought we could keep the day relatively quiet, unless there's anything you are desperate to do in Emon prior to the soiree."
Once their dinner is distributed and Essek has a drink in his hand, he leans back into the chair behind him. "Confident. I am not worried about presenting myself to the sort of people we will be meeting there." The sweetness of the wine, he notes, nicely cuts through the spice from the curry. He'll have to ask Percival about who is preparing their meals during their stay here. "They will think what they will think about me regardless, but I intend to show them that a Kryn drow is much different from what they might be expecting."
His fingers drum against the arm of his chair, a light tap of nails against the upholstery. "I think I should like to see at least a little of the city beforehand. I would not like to appear ignorant about it."
Percy has prepared Essek with as much information about the unfortunate state of drow in Tal'Dorei as he could find. He knows people will likely have opinions, some informed by the stories here and others by Empire propaganda, and there is little he can do to shield his husband from that. But he has no intention of leaving him to sink or swim alone. Percival will support Essek in his debute however he can, including being a proud spouse.
His smile returns when Essek confesses a desire to explore.
"Then I will happily squire you around, if you'd like company in your exploring."
Percy knows Emon well enough and, he hopes, he knows Essek well enough that he might be able to share relevant points of interest.
Pleased by the offer, Essek gives a positive-sounding hmm. "I would gladly accept your guidance."
In truth, a relaxed tour of the city sounds like the perfect lead-up to tomorrow night's event. Rather than admitting that he hasn't seen much, he would prefer to speak with authority. Rarely has he ever been on his back foot when it comes to social engagements like this, and that is in large part because he does his research beforehand. He would have made a poor Shadowhand if he didn't.
"Do any of your former compatriots still reside here?" He asks with a curious glance as they really dig into their meals. "Perhaps you could introduce me, if so. It would be helpful to know where to find allies in this city."
He's heard plenty about Vox Machina, though ironically more from other sources than from Percy himself, beyond the occasional anecdote and reference. It's a part of his husband's life that he hopes to learn more about first-hand, both out of curiosity and genuine interest.
"Oh, well... Keyleth is in Zephrah, last I heard. I think Grog might still be in Vasselheim, and Pike and Scanlan with him. The next time Vex'ahlia is in Whitestone, I'll surely make an introduction. She ah... had quite a lot to say when she heard about the marriage treaty."
It feels a bit strange to recount the scattered locations of his friends. People he'd spent so much time with, and now all of them are living very different lives. And he misses them, he realizes. Quite a lot.
"The person I can most certainly introduce you to, however, would be Shaun Gilmore. He's a good friend to have, and a solid ally."
And he suspects Shaun will flirt unrelentingly.
"Allura Vysoren will be at the gala, but if you'd like to meet her before that on quieter terms, I could send a note in the morning."
A lot to say, Percy says, and Essek nods with an understanding hum. A few of the Nein had strong opinions about this arrangement as well when he'd informed them, but naturally, there was nothing to be done. And Percival's friends, it seems, have scattered even further apart than the Nein. It makes a little more sense then why none have visited Whitestone in the last several months. Busy with their own lives, no doubt.
Essek receives regular Sendings from Jester still; Percy has witnessed several in their time together. But other than that and his contact with Beauregard, he's neither seen nor heard from any of the Nein directly since he left for Tal'Dorei. Jester's updates mostly consist of tales of her adventures at sea, but occasionally she'll tell him what she's heard about Caleb and Beauregard's progress in the Empire. She knows what is important to keep him apprised of.
He misses them, of course. Constantly. But as much as he wants to extend an invitation--please, my friends, visit me at my new home, you will be most welcome--it feels selfish to ask them to drop their current objectives and responsibilities just to see him. Later, perhaps. Eventually.
"I would not wish to inconvenience the Arcanist on such short notice," he says. "I am content knowing that there will be someone at this party I am actively interested in speaking to." His legs cross as he considers the other name Percy had mentioned, connects it to some of his own research on Emon. A specialty shop for enchanted and unusual magical items, specifically. He'd been considering asking Percy to visit. "The Gilmore you are referring to is the owner of a shop specializing in arcane wares, yes?" he asks with a hint of amusement. "That seems like a convenient friendship for a group of adventurers."
"Allura can be wonderfully forgiving if one knows how to ask her," he says with a wry smile. "But I look forward to having the chance to introduce you. I imagine she will be a far more interesting conversant."
Percy is curious about Essek's work and fascinated by the mechanics of how wizards perform their magic, but, at some point, there is only so much theory he can grasp without having years of arcane study to help him follow. He'll continue to be interested, always, but he suspects a conversation with Allura will be far more engaging for Essek.
"Yes, the very same." A warmer smile lights his face. "We had to be endearing, Vex'ahlia haggled for everything."
He manages to finish his curry between bits of conversation and eventually sits back with a peeled orange.
"Once, Vax spent an afternoon enjoying Emon on Shaun's arm and it got us a decent discount."
Essek chuckles knowingly, shaking his head. "Flirting for favors? A true classic." And a tactic well known to him, on both sides of the equation. It's impossible not to think of earlier days; of Caleb smiling at him, holding eye contact for too long, squeezing his arm, touching his shoulder. "I think I should like to meet Shaun Gilmore," he decides.
He finishes his own meal as well, and makes good progress on his wine.
"I suppose it would be most practical while we are sharing a room if I rest when you do," Essek muses aloud. "I won't require the bed to trance, so you are welcome to it."
"It's large enough for two," he says as he looks at the bed. "If you'd rather sit while you do."
Though there is an entire, cozy sitting area that Essek can also make full use of. Still, Percy feels wrong not to offer. There's enough space that they wouldn't touch each other without making some effort.
Percy realizes that he is tired from traveling, more than he'd thought upon arrival. Whatever adrenaline there had been is long gone now. He relaxes more, content to trade lighter conversation as they both wind down. And when he is ready, Percival gets up to retreat to the bed, putting out a few more candles as he goes. It occurs to him that Essek can see in the dark, but he leaves a few burning on the far side of the room all the same. His husband can put them out if he'd like.
The bed is comfortable, more so than some of the ones they've braved on the road here. It puts him in mind of nights spent here before, when the room he occupied was considerably smaller, when his workshop existed somewhere considerably closer.
"Good night, Essek."
Blessedly, sleep comes easier than he's anticipating. But it doesn't stay easy. It's some hours into the night when Percy stirs. It's just little changes at first: his heart beats faster and his breathing quietly picks up. Sweat beads on his skin despite the otherwise comfortable temperature of the room.
And, at some point, Percy sits bolt upright with a sharp, gasping breath and a soft, desperate, "No."
The room is not full dark, but it takes precious seconds for his vision to focus at all. The few candles left alight have burned low and the flames sputter as they encounter liquid wax. It makes the deep shadows flicker and shiver and Percy grips the blanket and sheets tighter as he tries to bring himself fully around.
Essek declines the offer of the bed. He doesn't need it for trancing; the chair does just as well, comfortable and high-backed, and honestly, he doesn't even need that. When he trances, he floats. He closes his eyes and crosses his legs and lays his palms on his knees, and hovers several inches above the seat of the chair as he settles into restorative meditation. After more than a century of practice, it doesn't take long to settle into the correct mindset, to focus internally and let his thoughts become amorphous and fluid.
But like all elves, he remains peripherally aware of his surroundings when he trances, and somewhere around the three hour mark, nearing the end of his required rest, he is alerted back to full awareness by a gasp from the nearby bed and Percival's voice distinctly uttering the word no.
Essek's eyes blink open, able to see perfectly in the dim light of the room. His husband is sitting up in bed, the sheets pooled around his waist. He's breathing heavily, clutching at the blankets. Essek drops down to his feet, crossing to the bed with light steps and sliding onto it. His eyes glow faintly in the low light, a reflection from the candles.
"You were dreaming, I think."
Spoken softly into the quiet as he reaches out tentatively to lay a slender hand on Percy's shoulder. The way he says it has the ring of curiosity, almost. Essek has not dreamed in more than a century, not since he was a child, before he learned to trance. He hardly remembers what it was like.
Seeing movement in the dark from the corner of his vision nearly gives Percival a heart attack. His chest goes tight and he doesn't breathe again until he actually hears Essek's voice. He manages to focus on his husband, but it is more difficult to calm himself. He stares at Essek, willing himself to see the man he has been living with. And nothing else.
He lets go of a heavier breath and he pushes his fingers through his hair as he hunches forward. His pulse is still pounding, but he tries to slow his breathing. Percy slides his hands to the back of his neck and he just stays like that for a little while, unable to summon his voice to answer just yet.
"I'm fine," he says at last, quite aware that it is possibly the most unconvincing thing he's said since they met. He sits up slowly, unfolding himself. Then his eyebrows draw together and he closes his eyes again. He manages to keep his voice even the next time he speaks. "I don't suppose you could give us a bit more light?"
It's a ridiculous request. It puts him in mind of a child being afraid of the dark. But he cannot stand the deep shadows, and the lights that Essek creates tend to glow steadily rather than flickering.
The length of time between his posed question and the answer does nothing to assure Essek of its authenticity. His hand moves gradually from Percy's shoulder to his back as his touch becomes firmer, hoping to provide some reassurance. With a soflty-spoken word he honors the request for light, and the room is lit in a steady pale blue glow.
"I gathered as much, k'allis," he says, keeping his voice low and soothing. The Undercommon word for dear one is nothing he hasn't spoken before in Common, though somehow it feels weightier in his own language. "It has been a long time since I have dreamed, but I recall how it felt to wake from a nightmare."
Is trying to relate an awkward thing to do? Perhaps Percival would simply prefer to drop the subject entirely. But it's equally possible that he'll find talking to be soothing. Essek quickly discovers that more than fearing crossing a line or coming on too strong, he wants to help his clearly shaken husband. How could he not, when he's come to care about Percival as much as he has?
"Humans cannot trance, of course, but I could guide you in a meditative breathing exercise that might prove calming enough to ensure a more restful sleep," he offers. "This was done for me in my youth."
Listening to Essek's voice itself is soothing. Knowing he is not here alone in the dark with only his own thoughts and the sound of his shivering breath. He focuses on the way Essek's hand feels on his back, too caught up to fully appreciate the tenderness of the gesture. The foreign word catches in his mind, but he can't focus on it enough beyond the tone to glean its meaning.
The offer is kind. That Essek wants to help him at all is--no, to say it's unexpected is a slight. His husband has been attentive before, and Percy is grateful for it now. He makes himself take a deeper breath, if only to prove that he can. And while he wants to grasp this offered help, there is some cynical part of him that believes it cannot possibly help. Perhaps meditative breathing will help calm him down, he'll trust that. But he doesn't know if anything will get him back to a restful sleep.
A weak smile appears and Percy finally looks at Essek, able to make him out better in the pale light.
"I suppose it was only a matter of time before you learned your husband's restless sleep habits."
Maybe it could have gone on much longer, given that they do not share a room in Whitestone. Percival rubs his brow, just trying to ease some of the tension away. As the adrenaline fades, he feels exhausted.
"Let's try the breathing," he says quietly. He wants to accept Essek's help. He should let his spouse in that much. And, if nothing else, it saves him from explaining himself, at least for a little while.
Essek's expression is one of sympathy, but also resolve. As soon as Percy agrees to his suggestion, he gives a curt nod. "Good. Listen to me, then." He has no issue taking the lead here, authoritative, but gently so. It seems to him that in this state, Percival could use someone telling him what he should do.
He very deliberately has not inquired as to the subject of the bad dream; best to let that fade away, and instead concentrate on what might be done to mitigate the symptoms of his husband's apparently regular restless sleep. Perhaps this will be a lesson he can take forward with him. Essek's hand rubs down and up Percy's back once before he pulls away, scooting toward the head of the bed. With his back to the headboard, he sits cross-legged and pulls a pillow into his lap.
"You will lay on your back with your head here." A hand gives the pillow a single sharp pat. It's clearly an instruction rather than a suggestion, which Essek hopes cuts through the possibly awkward novelty of this new level of intimacy. "Hands folded on your chest, eyes closed. You should attempt to concentrate on my voice and your breathing. Nothing else."
The shift in Essek's demeanor feels sudden, but welcome. It feels like imposing some order over frightening entropy. It cuts through the lingering guilt and fear and the strange, oily feeling that comes with it all.
The sharp tap on the pillow gets his attention and prompts him to move. Percival eases further down the bed so that he can rest his head on the pillow in Essek's lap. It's an unexpected intimacy and, even if it is purely instructional, he takes some comfort in the closeness.
He rests his hands on his chest and looks up at his husband for a moment more before finally closing his eyes. It takes a moment to get his breathing even, but at least he manages.
The proximity is no accident, and the intimacy that comes with it is meant to be comforting. As soon as Percy is settled, Essek's hands come to rest on his shoulders, pressing down lightly.
It occurs to him as he looks down at the man settled in his lap that this is the first time he's seen Percival so closely without his glasses, let alone disheveled in bed after a less than pleasant dream. It's an incredibly vulnerable state to be in around anyone, Essek recognizes, which makes the trust Percy is putting in him all the more poignant.
"If you find your thoughts wandering, say so. I will assist you," he says simply. "Now, follow my instructions."
Essek retains that same soft, authoritative tone as he begins to lead Percy in a breathing exercise, instructing him on when and how much to breathe in, how long to hold, and when to release. He counts out loud, occasionally touching the center of Percy's chest to feel his chest expanding. It's a lot of deep breaths and slow exhaling, as might be expected, but the pattern isn't just one continuous cycle.
"Hold until it feels natural to release. Good. Now inhale--five, four, three, two, one."
Percy tries to relax as Essek pushes down on his shoulders. He nods to acknowledge the instruction, but keeps quiet otherwise.
As the exercise begins, Percival tries to focus on his own breathing at first. But, before long, it's Essek's voice that has his full attention. He does as he's told, inhaling and holding and exhaling however he's told to. But it's the quiet cadence of Essek's voice that keeps him where he is. And if he focuses on that, then he isn't drifting off into his own mind.
Maybe that's not how he's supposed to do this, but... it helps. And Essek won't know the difference, will he?
The way the pattern of breathing changes isn't something he expects, but he manages to follow along. Feeling the gentle pressure of Essek's hand on his chest makes him aware of the physical movement involved in what he's doing. Once, Percy's fingers move just enough to brush against his husband's. With his eyes closed, with nothing but Essek's voice in his head, it just--it seemed like the thing to do.
He realizes he wants to seek more contact, but that hasn't been offered and he absolutely should not press. With that swirl of conflict, he misses something Essek says.
"Sorry," he murmurs, resisting the urge to open his eyes. His thoughts had wandered... just not in the direction he'd anticipated.
Notably, Essek has not withdrawn his hand from its place against Percy's sternum since his husband's fingers brushed it. It remains there, steadying, as the other rests on his shoulder. It makes Percy's momentary distraction all the more obvious, when his chest doesn't rise beneath his touch with a five-count inhale as he'd expected it to. The muttered apology comes a moment later.
"It's fine," Essek assures quietly, taking stock of the man laid out in front of him. His weight rests heavily between the bed and Essek's lap, no obvious tension in his limbs. With care, Essek lifts the hand from his shoulder to brush his fingertips lightly across his forehead, smoothing back strands of hair still stuck to his skin with cold sweat. "How are you feeling? You seem more relaxed." Or at least not obviously agitated, as he had been before. It's an improvement.
"Better," he answers. Not fully improved, but not in cold terror, either. As gentle fingers stroke across his brow, Percival aches to touch Essek further, to take full comfort in his presence, but he thinks that would be taking advantage of his husband's care and kindness.
"Thank you," he adds after a moment. He shouldn't stay like this any longer than he needs to, despite the temptation. Percy sits up slowly, shifting so that he can face Essek. Some of the tension is gone, at least, and left behind is a weary-looking artificer. "I'll try to get back to sleep."
He thinks he can manage it now. Usually it only happens once like that, and once he gets it out of his system, he can manage a few more hours. Besides, he wants to be as fresh as he can for tomorrow, between escorting Essek around Emon and preparing for their evening in the palace.
Though Essek permits Percy sit up, of course, hands sliding away as he moves, he isn't entirely convinced that his husband's condition has improved to his satisfaction. While he isn't actively panicking any longer, he looks...exhausted. And not in a way that seems conducive to sleep. Perhaps part of it is merely the pale blue light further washing out a already pale man. But Essek knows how to read people, and Percy seems...resigned. To more poor rest, perhaps, but not wanting to burden his spouse further. Essek can't allow that.
"Percival," he murmurs, concern evident in his tone. His brow has furrowed, and he reaches for Percy's nearest hand to hold it between his own. "Is there something else you need? You have only to ask."
There is a tightness in his chest, a twist of worry and affection, that makes him bold. "I want to help you."
"Thank you," he says, and he tries to imbue it with the gratitude he truly feels. He hesitates a moment, then takes one of Essek's hands to lightly kiss his knuckles. He lingers just a moment longer than is probably proper. He sits up again and lets his thumb stroke across Essek's fingers before he lets go.
But rather than going back to his pillows, Percival seems to consider a moment.
"Would you--" The request sounds silly in his head, but he pushes himself to make it anyway. Essek is worried and Percy doesn't want to brush him off. "Stay here? At least until I'm asleep again."
He won't ask his husband to lay down with him, but if he would just stay in bed for a little while and allow Percy that feeling of company, he thinks it might help.
It is too dark in the room still for Percival to see his blush, Essek concludes as his hand is released. He can feel the heat in his own face, can feel the lingering brush of Percival's lips still against his knuckles. He flexes his fingers and folds them together with his other hand, idly allowing his own thumb to brush over the same spot.
Oh, he's in trouble, isn't he?
"Of course," he confirms quickly, relieved that Percy hasn't dismissed him. "That is no imposition." He dares to inch a little closer toward the center of the bed, moving away from the pillows and the headboard. "Make yourself comfortable. I will...arrange myself accordingly."
"Thank you," he says again, soft as he settles back down. He lays close to Essek but doesn't try to touch him, just takes comfort in the sense of his presence. Blissfully, Percy manages to fall asleep again, and he stays asleep.
He wakes later than he usually does, which might also be a blessing. He looks better in the morning and he seems content to move on without discussing what happened. And Percival seems very eager to squire Essek around Emon.
They spend the morning along the waterfront, and by afternoon he has Essek in a canopied marketplace. He introduces him to Shaun Gilmore, but doesn't subject his husband to his dear friend for very long: they will have plenty of opportunities to visit again.
In the late afternoon, it's back to the keep to prepare for the evening. Part of that involves time for napping and bathing, a light meal. And, of course, time to dress. Percival is in dark blue and silver and he exchanges his usual glasses for a pair without the magnifying lenses. When Essek is nearly finished dressing, Percival appears with something dark draped over his arm.
"I ah... I wanted to give you this for tonight, if you like it."
He hesitates, then drapes the mantle on the end of the bed. Unfurled, it reveals the Whitestone crest embroidered in silver. Normally it's done in gold, but he's taken note of his husband's aesthetic. Percy brushes his fingers over it before he steps back, allowing Essek a proper look at it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He doesn't stare, though. He has the decency not to and he turns his attention toward the spread when Essek asks about it. That is, he manages to give the food his attention for a few seconds before getting caught up in watching Essek remove some of his jewelry. Get it together, de Rolo.
"Nothing too heavy," he says as he sits back. "It smells like a curry over rice and there's bread here. Then as much fruit as either of us could ask for."
The warm spices likely won't be too hot, but Percy is looking forward to the flavors that are so readily available in Emon.
no subject
The food has been arranged over the low table in the corner of the room meant to be used as a sitting area, with two lounge chairs flanking it. Essek settles in one of them with a sweep of his housecoat that's nearly as graceful as his cloak.
"Shall I serve?" he offers. Traditionally the role of a host in his culture, but if this keep is an extension of Whitestone, then that should be considered his role as much as it is Percival's. Essek is already reaching for a bowl and serving spoon before his husband can answer, lifting the covers from the larger serving bowls to begin doling out helpings of rice and curry. A thicker, creamier sauce than he's used to, but it smells appetizing.
no subject
"Yes, thank you. I'll pour, if you like," he says with a gesture to the bottle that came with dinner. Whatever it is, he trusts it will compliment the meal. He takes a deeper breath as Essek uncovers the curry. He's fairly certain at least some of the spices come from Marquet.
This is a more intimate occasion than their usual dinners together, served in a small dining room with a servant or two lingering just outside open doors to see to whatever they might need. Tonight it's just the two of them, and, outside of social occasions, it's likely to be similar for the rest of their stay.
"How are you feeling about tomorrow night? I thought we could keep the day relatively quiet, unless there's anything you are desperate to do in Emon prior to the soiree."
no subject
His fingers drum against the arm of his chair, a light tap of nails against the upholstery. "I think I should like to see at least a little of the city beforehand. I would not like to appear ignorant about it."
no subject
His smile returns when Essek confesses a desire to explore.
"Then I will happily squire you around, if you'd like company in your exploring."
Percy knows Emon well enough and, he hopes, he knows Essek well enough that he might be able to share relevant points of interest.
no subject
In truth, a relaxed tour of the city sounds like the perfect lead-up to tomorrow night's event. Rather than admitting that he hasn't seen much, he would prefer to speak with authority. Rarely has he ever been on his back foot when it comes to social engagements like this, and that is in large part because he does his research beforehand. He would have made a poor Shadowhand if he didn't.
"Do any of your former compatriots still reside here?" He asks with a curious glance as they really dig into their meals. "Perhaps you could introduce me, if so. It would be helpful to know where to find allies in this city."
He's heard plenty about Vox Machina, though ironically more from other sources than from Percy himself, beyond the occasional anecdote and reference. It's a part of his husband's life that he hopes to learn more about first-hand, both out of curiosity and genuine interest.
no subject
It feels a bit strange to recount the scattered locations of his friends. People he'd spent so much time with, and now all of them are living very different lives. And he misses them, he realizes. Quite a lot.
"The person I can most certainly introduce you to, however, would be Shaun Gilmore. He's a good friend to have, and a solid ally."
And he suspects Shaun will flirt unrelentingly.
"Allura Vysoren will be at the gala, but if you'd like to meet her before that on quieter terms, I could send a note in the morning."
no subject
Essek receives regular Sendings from Jester still; Percy has witnessed several in their time together. But other than that and his contact with Beauregard, he's neither seen nor heard from any of the Nein directly since he left for Tal'Dorei. Jester's updates mostly consist of tales of her adventures at sea, but occasionally she'll tell him what she's heard about Caleb and Beauregard's progress in the Empire. She knows what is important to keep him apprised of.
He misses them, of course. Constantly. But as much as he wants to extend an invitation--please, my friends, visit me at my new home, you will be most welcome--it feels selfish to ask them to drop their current objectives and responsibilities just to see him. Later, perhaps. Eventually.
"I would not wish to inconvenience the Arcanist on such short notice," he says. "I am content knowing that there will be someone at this party I am actively interested in speaking to." His legs cross as he considers the other name Percy had mentioned, connects it to some of his own research on Emon. A specialty shop for enchanted and unusual magical items, specifically. He'd been considering asking Percy to visit. "The Gilmore you are referring to is the owner of a shop specializing in arcane wares, yes?" he asks with a hint of amusement. "That seems like a convenient friendship for a group of adventurers."
no subject
Percy is curious about Essek's work and fascinated by the mechanics of how wizards perform their magic, but, at some point, there is only so much theory he can grasp without having years of arcane study to help him follow. He'll continue to be interested, always, but he suspects a conversation with Allura will be far more engaging for Essek.
"Yes, the very same." A warmer smile lights his face. "We had to be endearing, Vex'ahlia haggled for everything."
He manages to finish his curry between bits of conversation and eventually sits back with a peeled orange.
"Once, Vax spent an afternoon enjoying Emon on Shaun's arm and it got us a decent discount."
no subject
He finishes his own meal as well, and makes good progress on his wine.
"I suppose it would be most practical while we are sharing a room if I rest when you do," Essek muses aloud. "I won't require the bed to trance, so you are welcome to it."
no subject
Though there is an entire, cozy sitting area that Essek can also make full use of. Still, Percy feels wrong not to offer. There's enough space that they wouldn't touch each other without making some effort.
Percy realizes that he is tired from traveling, more than he'd thought upon arrival. Whatever adrenaline there had been is long gone now. He relaxes more, content to trade lighter conversation as they both wind down. And when he is ready, Percival gets up to retreat to the bed, putting out a few more candles as he goes. It occurs to him that Essek can see in the dark, but he leaves a few burning on the far side of the room all the same. His husband can put them out if he'd like.
The bed is comfortable, more so than some of the ones they've braved on the road here. It puts him in mind of nights spent here before, when the room he occupied was considerably smaller, when his workshop existed somewhere considerably closer.
"Good night, Essek."
Blessedly, sleep comes easier than he's anticipating. But it doesn't stay easy. It's some hours into the night when Percy stirs. It's just little changes at first: his heart beats faster and his breathing quietly picks up. Sweat beads on his skin despite the otherwise comfortable temperature of the room.
And, at some point, Percy sits bolt upright with a sharp, gasping breath and a soft, desperate, "No."
The room is not full dark, but it takes precious seconds for his vision to focus at all. The few candles left alight have burned low and the flames sputter as they encounter liquid wax. It makes the deep shadows flicker and shiver and Percy grips the blanket and sheets tighter as he tries to bring himself fully around.
no subject
Essek declines the offer of the bed. He doesn't need it for trancing; the chair does just as well, comfortable and high-backed, and honestly, he doesn't even need that. When he trances, he floats. He closes his eyes and crosses his legs and lays his palms on his knees, and hovers several inches above the seat of the chair as he settles into restorative meditation. After more than a century of practice, it doesn't take long to settle into the correct mindset, to focus internally and let his thoughts become amorphous and fluid.
But like all elves, he remains peripherally aware of his surroundings when he trances, and somewhere around the three hour mark, nearing the end of his required rest, he is alerted back to full awareness by a gasp from the nearby bed and Percival's voice distinctly uttering the word no.
Essek's eyes blink open, able to see perfectly in the dim light of the room. His husband is sitting up in bed, the sheets pooled around his waist. He's breathing heavily, clutching at the blankets. Essek drops down to his feet, crossing to the bed with light steps and sliding onto it. His eyes glow faintly in the low light, a reflection from the candles.
"You were dreaming, I think."
Spoken softly into the quiet as he reaches out tentatively to lay a slender hand on Percy's shoulder. The way he says it has the ring of curiosity, almost. Essek has not dreamed in more than a century, not since he was a child, before he learned to trance. He hardly remembers what it was like.
"Are you all right, Percival?"
no subject
He lets go of a heavier breath and he pushes his fingers through his hair as he hunches forward. His pulse is still pounding, but he tries to slow his breathing. Percy slides his hands to the back of his neck and he just stays like that for a little while, unable to summon his voice to answer just yet.
"I'm fine," he says at last, quite aware that it is possibly the most unconvincing thing he's said since they met. He sits up slowly, unfolding himself. Then his eyebrows draw together and he closes his eyes again. He manages to keep his voice even the next time he speaks. "I don't suppose you could give us a bit more light?"
It's a ridiculous request. It puts him in mind of a child being afraid of the dark. But he cannot stand the deep shadows, and the lights that Essek creates tend to glow steadily rather than flickering.
"It was a bad dream, that's all."
no subject
"I gathered as much, k'allis," he says, keeping his voice low and soothing. The Undercommon word for dear one is nothing he hasn't spoken before in Common, though somehow it feels weightier in his own language. "It has been a long time since I have dreamed, but I recall how it felt to wake from a nightmare."
Is trying to relate an awkward thing to do? Perhaps Percival would simply prefer to drop the subject entirely. But it's equally possible that he'll find talking to be soothing. Essek quickly discovers that more than fearing crossing a line or coming on too strong, he wants to help his clearly shaken husband. How could he not, when he's come to care about Percival as much as he has?
"Humans cannot trance, of course, but I could guide you in a meditative breathing exercise that might prove calming enough to ensure a more restful sleep," he offers. "This was done for me in my youth."
no subject
The offer is kind. That Essek wants to help him at all is--no, to say it's unexpected is a slight. His husband has been attentive before, and Percy is grateful for it now. He makes himself take a deeper breath, if only to prove that he can. And while he wants to grasp this offered help, there is some cynical part of him that believes it cannot possibly help. Perhaps meditative breathing will help calm him down, he'll trust that. But he doesn't know if anything will get him back to a restful sleep.
A weak smile appears and Percy finally looks at Essek, able to make him out better in the pale light.
"I suppose it was only a matter of time before you learned your husband's restless sleep habits."
Maybe it could have gone on much longer, given that they do not share a room in Whitestone. Percival rubs his brow, just trying to ease some of the tension away. As the adrenaline fades, he feels exhausted.
"Let's try the breathing," he says quietly. He wants to accept Essek's help. He should let his spouse in that much. And, if nothing else, it saves him from explaining himself, at least for a little while.
no subject
He very deliberately has not inquired as to the subject of the bad dream; best to let that fade away, and instead concentrate on what might be done to mitigate the symptoms of his husband's apparently regular restless sleep. Perhaps this will be a lesson he can take forward with him. Essek's hand rubs down and up Percy's back once before he pulls away, scooting toward the head of the bed. With his back to the headboard, he sits cross-legged and pulls a pillow into his lap.
"You will lay on your back with your head here." A hand gives the pillow a single sharp pat. It's clearly an instruction rather than a suggestion, which Essek hopes cuts through the possibly awkward novelty of this new level of intimacy. "Hands folded on your chest, eyes closed. You should attempt to concentrate on my voice and your breathing. Nothing else."
no subject
The sharp tap on the pillow gets his attention and prompts him to move. Percival eases further down the bed so that he can rest his head on the pillow in Essek's lap. It's an unexpected intimacy and, even if it is purely instructional, he takes some comfort in the closeness.
He rests his hands on his chest and looks up at his husband for a moment more before finally closing his eyes. It takes a moment to get his breathing even, but at least he manages.
"What if I can't? Concentrate."
no subject
It occurs to him as he looks down at the man settled in his lap that this is the first time he's seen Percival so closely without his glasses, let alone disheveled in bed after a less than pleasant dream. It's an incredibly vulnerable state to be in around anyone, Essek recognizes, which makes the trust Percy is putting in him all the more poignant.
"If you find your thoughts wandering, say so. I will assist you," he says simply. "Now, follow my instructions."
Essek retains that same soft, authoritative tone as he begins to lead Percy in a breathing exercise, instructing him on when and how much to breathe in, how long to hold, and when to release. He counts out loud, occasionally touching the center of Percy's chest to feel his chest expanding. It's a lot of deep breaths and slow exhaling, as might be expected, but the pattern isn't just one continuous cycle.
"Hold until it feels natural to release. Good. Now inhale--five, four, three, two, one."
no subject
As the exercise begins, Percival tries to focus on his own breathing at first. But, before long, it's Essek's voice that has his full attention. He does as he's told, inhaling and holding and exhaling however he's told to. But it's the quiet cadence of Essek's voice that keeps him where he is. And if he focuses on that, then he isn't drifting off into his own mind.
Maybe that's not how he's supposed to do this, but... it helps. And Essek won't know the difference, will he?
The way the pattern of breathing changes isn't something he expects, but he manages to follow along. Feeling the gentle pressure of Essek's hand on his chest makes him aware of the physical movement involved in what he's doing. Once, Percy's fingers move just enough to brush against his husband's. With his eyes closed, with nothing but Essek's voice in his head, it just--it seemed like the thing to do.
He realizes he wants to seek more contact, but that hasn't been offered and he absolutely should not press. With that swirl of conflict, he misses something Essek says.
"Sorry," he murmurs, resisting the urge to open his eyes. His thoughts had wandered... just not in the direction he'd anticipated.
no subject
"It's fine," Essek assures quietly, taking stock of the man laid out in front of him. His weight rests heavily between the bed and Essek's lap, no obvious tension in his limbs. With care, Essek lifts the hand from his shoulder to brush his fingertips lightly across his forehead, smoothing back strands of hair still stuck to his skin with cold sweat. "How are you feeling? You seem more relaxed." Or at least not obviously agitated, as he had been before. It's an improvement.
no subject
"Thank you," he adds after a moment. He shouldn't stay like this any longer than he needs to, despite the temptation. Percy sits up slowly, shifting so that he can face Essek. Some of the tension is gone, at least, and left behind is a weary-looking artificer. "I'll try to get back to sleep."
He thinks he can manage it now. Usually it only happens once like that, and once he gets it out of his system, he can manage a few more hours. Besides, he wants to be as fresh as he can for tomorrow, between escorting Essek around Emon and preparing for their evening in the palace.
no subject
"Percival," he murmurs, concern evident in his tone. His brow has furrowed, and he reaches for Percy's nearest hand to hold it between his own. "Is there something else you need? You have only to ask."
There is a tightness in his chest, a twist of worry and affection, that makes him bold. "I want to help you."
no subject
"Thank you," he says, and he tries to imbue it with the gratitude he truly feels. He hesitates a moment, then takes one of Essek's hands to lightly kiss his knuckles. He lingers just a moment longer than is probably proper. He sits up again and lets his thumb stroke across Essek's fingers before he lets go.
But rather than going back to his pillows, Percival seems to consider a moment.
"Would you--" The request sounds silly in his head, but he pushes himself to make it anyway. Essek is worried and Percy doesn't want to brush him off. "Stay here? At least until I'm asleep again."
He won't ask his husband to lay down with him, but if he would just stay in bed for a little while and allow Percy that feeling of company, he thinks it might help.
no subject
Oh, he's in trouble, isn't he?
"Of course," he confirms quickly, relieved that Percy hasn't dismissed him. "That is no imposition." He dares to inch a little closer toward the center of the bed, moving away from the pillows and the headboard. "Make yourself comfortable. I will...arrange myself accordingly."
no subject
He wakes later than he usually does, which might also be a blessing. He looks better in the morning and he seems content to move on without discussing what happened. And Percival seems very eager to squire Essek around Emon.
They spend the morning along the waterfront, and by afternoon he has Essek in a canopied marketplace. He introduces him to Shaun Gilmore, but doesn't subject his husband to his dear friend for very long: they will have plenty of opportunities to visit again.
In the late afternoon, it's back to the keep to prepare for the evening. Part of that involves time for napping and bathing, a light meal. And, of course, time to dress. Percival is in dark blue and silver and he exchanges his usual glasses for a pair without the magnifying lenses. When Essek is nearly finished dressing, Percival appears with something dark draped over his arm.
"I ah... I wanted to give you this for tonight, if you like it."
He hesitates, then drapes the mantle on the end of the bed. Unfurled, it reveals the Whitestone crest embroidered in silver. Normally it's done in gold, but he's taken note of his husband's aesthetic. Percy brushes his fingers over it before he steps back, allowing Essek a proper look at it.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)