That is a terrible number and makes Alaric much more determined to make them all at least a little uncomfortable and a handful or so suffer.
He leans in really close to Anders, though, nuzzles at his jaw and then exhales right against his ear. "I want to know what color you turn if I play with the new one."
Anders, typically, prides himself on his ability to flirt and tease and make other people weak in the knees. It's not something he finds himself on the other end of very often.
He shudders and leans into Alaric's presence. "I'd be curious as well...I'm not known for turning colors...but I think you may have a talent for it." He turns his face to kiss Alaric's jaw and fights the urge to lean in for more. "I assume you have some idea of how tempting you are."
He closes his teeth on the delicate shell of Anders' ear and then sits up and back with a smirk. "I know exactly how attractive I am."
And is not above using it but also isn't entirely comfortable with it or within his skin. Separate things, but only barely. "Much as I imagine you know and use how attractive you are, quite often."
He has to take a breath to steady himself or he'll do something foolish, but he sits back with a smirk that turns into a playful grin as he gestures to himself. "Well, of course, why waste the Maker's gifts in vain? It would be a shame not use what He gave me for the betterment of others."
Absolutely something he's been told before...but it wasn't about his looks. Still, if it worked-!
"And I've been bettered already by your good looks, so really, we're both just doing as we ought to."
The tone just makes Anders' grin spread to Cheshire proportions. "Scenary, of course! You're nobility, you know that value of quality environs, my dear Alaric." He waved out at the expanse of now sun-drenched landscape around and below them. "Just look around, this is beautiful, muddy Ferelden Landscape of top quality with only a hint of dog in the air! With you here, however, it goes from beautiful to exquisite."
He shrugs a shoulder, expression utterly remorseful and perfectly performative. "Alas, I don't make the rules, you see, it's just how it is. I see you and my morale is lifted and lungs more full of air made sweeter by your presence."
He's not the least bit dissuaded, warmth blooms in his chest and drenches his overly dramatic tone and gestures with playfulness.
He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. "Oh, Maker, spare me these cruel barbs! Are you saying you don't appreciate my appreciation?"
He stood, then, the plate that had been in his lap now in his hand as he toed the edge of the ledge to look over it. "Perhaps I ought to go, then! The waves of the lake might appreciate me more. Certainly, Calenhad may be a less cruel mistress." Were it not over a hundred foot drop, but details were for the petty.
He manages to hold the remote expression for another moment, then braces one hand on the ledge under them, leans up and across the plate between them and kisses Anders.
Quick, definitive, and this time not... retreating immediately.
He'd banked on a couple reactions, but being kissed wasn't among them. A happy surprise, for certain, one that has him pressing back into the kiss with eyes closed and a small, happy, hum that betrays him.
When they pull apart, everything in his expression melts to something softer, even his voice. "Oh, well...I suppose there's a kinder master to be found here after all. A sacrifice in my place, then."
He turns towards the lake and flings the plate out into the abyss to sail into the lake. Probably.
He looks back to Alaric with a small shrug and moves to sit beside him again. "I promised not to leave it lying around and I did so."
Alaric is immediately, deeply, horrified - and caught off guard that only the length of the fall allows him to recover enough to catch it with magic and yank it back.
Anders doesn't even have the decency of looking apologetic, only put out that his perfect throw was so rudely interrupted.
"And I responsibly disposed of it! Or tried to. What does the tower need one plate for? No one would have noticed."
But it's done now and safely in Alaric's hands and Anders spares it only a brief squint as though the plate was at fault for this, then looks back up to Alaric with lazy amusement.
"You're far too good. You should try it, throwing things is very cathartic."
"Throwing it into a lake is not responsible!" He is very sure on this point and is keeping hold of the plate in case Anders tries again. "I most definitely do not need to throw the dishes."
Or ruin his chances of getting the kitchen staff feeding him separately on occasion.
He leans into Alaric's space, face tilted up at him like a man basking in sunlight instead of his companion's ire.
"Ser Morgan...you're so attractive when irritated with me. I'll need to remember that. Fine, keep your intentions and your plate. I'll find something else next time." Maybe.
"Please do. And ideally nothing useful or living." Throw rocks. Or bodies. Also he is still irritated but now irritated at being amused. How dare Anders do that to him. "And I will return this to the kitchen myself, thank you."
Does he like that growl? absolutely he does...on so many levels, each more complicated. One was a basic, rather easy fact that he wouldn't mind hearing that right next to his ear sometime. Preferably while tangled together. Another was the fact that no one, not even Karl had growled at him like that, excluding Alphas in their rut and irritable. Those times hadn't been like this, enticing and alluringly tempting to act out more just to hear it again. Which made this tangle in his chest all the more complicated.
Alaric was enchanting, captivating, he growled when pressed right, his face lit up with such joy but rarely enough that it was as beautiful as a force of nature, his hands and lips were soft, his eyes deep and gorgeous and Anders knew how right it felt for his fingers to be in that lovely blond hair that framed his face.
Was it love? Not yet, but Maker help him it was certainly infatuation and affection and things too dangerous to consider. Mages didn't love. Couldn't love. Andraste spare them both, or at least Alaric, that terrible fate...but when had he ever been so lucky?
He didn't bother to take the stars from his eyes as he continued to look up at Alaric. "You wear such irritation in your voice...I wonder what it tastes like."
Another dangerous thought, as idle as it sounded, though more for the fact he knew if Alaric kissed him with even part of that bite in it, he might find himself more than a little turned on. He blinks as though coming out of a trance and sits up a bit more. "We should head inside anyway...if we're caught out here, it will make sneaking around harder for a while."
He doesn't know what to do with that genuine reaction. It would, without his abilities and a bit more knowledge of Anders, feel like he was being mocked.
He isn't, though. He can feel that and it's... thrilling and scary and bewildering.
"Where will we sneak to, next?"
He isn't quite ready to let go, even as confused as he is.
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He leans in really close to Anders, though, nuzzles at his jaw and then exhales right against his ear. "I want to know what color you turn if I play with the new one."
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He shudders and leans into Alaric's presence. "I'd be curious as well...I'm not known for turning colors...but I think you may have a talent for it." He turns his face to kiss Alaric's jaw and fights the urge to lean in for more. "I assume you have some idea of how tempting you are."
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And is not above using it but also isn't entirely comfortable with it or within his skin. Separate things, but only barely. "Much as I imagine you know and use how attractive you are, quite often."
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Absolutely something he's been told before...but it wasn't about his looks. Still, if it worked-!
"And I've been bettered already by your good looks, so really, we're both just doing as we ought to."
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Well, no, but the outright prissy tone and sharply arched eyebrow imply otherwise.
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He shrugs a shoulder, expression utterly remorseful and perfectly performative. "Alas, I don't make the rules, you see, it's just how it is. I see you and my morale is lifted and lungs more full of air made sweeter by your presence."
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He allows silence to stretch a single beat too long.
Then:
"I will throw you off the ledge."
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He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. "Oh, Maker, spare me these cruel barbs! Are you saying you don't appreciate my appreciation?"
He stood, then, the plate that had been in his lap now in his hand as he toed the edge of the ledge to look over it. "Perhaps I ought to go, then! The waves of the lake might appreciate me more. Certainly, Calenhad may be a less cruel mistress." Were it not over a hundred foot drop, but details were for the petty.
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Quick, definitive, and this time not... retreating immediately.
Shush.
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When they pull apart, everything in his expression melts to something softer, even his voice. "Oh, well...I suppose there's a kinder master to be found here after all. A sacrifice in my place, then."
He turns towards the lake and flings the plate out into the abyss to sail into the lake. Probably.
He looks back to Alaric with a small shrug and moves to sit beside him again. "I promised not to leave it lying around and I did so."
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"I took responsibility for that plate!"
YOu can't just do that!
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"And I responsibly disposed of it! Or tried to. What does the tower need one plate for? No one would have noticed."
But it's done now and safely in Alaric's hands and Anders spares it only a brief squint as though the plate was at fault for this, then looks back up to Alaric with lazy amusement.
"You're far too good. You should try it, throwing things is very cathartic."
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Or ruin his chances of getting the kitchen staff feeding him separately on occasion.
He's firm on all those points, too.
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"Ser Morgan...you're so attractive when irritated with me. I'll need to remember that. Fine, keep your intentions and your plate. I'll find something else next time." Maybe.
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He...
He growls at Anders, albeit very softly.
"Please do. And ideally nothing useful or living." Throw rocks. Or bodies. Also he is still irritated but now irritated at being amused. How dare Anders do that to him. "And I will return this to the kitchen myself, thank you."
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Alaric was enchanting, captivating, he growled when pressed right, his face lit up with such joy but rarely enough that it was as beautiful as a force of nature, his hands and lips were soft, his eyes deep and gorgeous and Anders knew how right it felt for his fingers to be in that lovely blond hair that framed his face.
Was it love? Not yet, but Maker help him it was certainly infatuation and affection and things too dangerous to consider. Mages didn't love. Couldn't love. Andraste spare them both, or at least Alaric, that terrible fate...but when had he ever been so lucky?
He didn't bother to take the stars from his eyes as he continued to look up at Alaric. "You wear such irritation in your voice...I wonder what it tastes like."
Another dangerous thought, as idle as it sounded, though more for the fact he knew if Alaric kissed him with even part of that bite in it, he might find himself more than a little turned on. He blinks as though coming out of a trance and sits up a bit more. "We should head inside anyway...if we're caught out here, it will make sneaking around harder for a while."
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He isn't, though. He can feel that and it's... thrilling and scary and bewildering.
"Where will we sneak to, next?"
He isn't quite ready to let go, even as confused as he is.
this is really bad news, isn't it?