#hoistingcolours

While her eyes remained firmly locked on him she motioned to the chair across from herself with her hand. “Take a seat,” she said in a polite enough manner. “I just want to talk,” she told him, and as if to drive the point home she slid a bottle of mazte across the table as a proverbial peace offering. “I doubt you’ll like what I have to say, but really, I do just want to talk.”

She sat back, her butt on the very edge of the chair, making her slouch slightly and she folded her hands over her stomach. “You see, I spent some time with Willa yesterday and we got to talking,” Jocelyn began, gaze never leaving Vilayn - a gaze which had nearly made lesser men wet themselves - and inclined her head slightly. “Most of it doesn’t really concerns you, but some of the things she said got me real curious.”

For the first time since he’d come over, Jocelyn turned her eyes away and focused briefly on the task of taking a generous swing of her own drink. “I’m not one for beating around the bush, so you’ll have to forgive my courseness, but have you talked to her about what happens next with the two of you?” She let the bottle rest on her stomach while her fingers drummed against the glass. “You’re… not exactly young anymore. You’re happily married and I reckon you haven’t fathered any children - at least that you know of - and according to Willa you have no interest in suddenly doing so either,” she chose to let that sink in for a few seconds, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, and her gaze landed on him again like a lead weight.

The greatest concern Vilayn betrayed was a glance over his shoulder towards the captain, who, rather than sweeping over to his friend’s aid, was chatting happily away to Tosti. He could have been completely oblivious, had he not caught Vilayn’s eye at the last moment and, upon realising he was being stared at, given a perky wave. There was no help coming from that quarter. Vilayn would have to face Jocelyn’s interrogation by himself.

He lowered himself stiffly into the chair on the opposite side of the table and reached for the mazte, to show willing. After only one swig, he put it back on the table and moved his hands away from it, back onto his knees, where they beat out a steady tattoo as he listened to Jocelyn.

Considering the weight behind it, he bore her gaze well. His feet shuffled a little on the floor, his drumming fingers drummed a bit harder, but he wouldn’t let himself look away, even as the bottom dropped out of his stomach and went crawling away across the floor. After a moment to make sure she had finished and definitely not because he had to fight away a cold sweat, he said, in a professional and detached tone,

[Prompt]

“No you didn’t,” Eirin practically gasped in disbelief, and judging from the triumphant grin on Carina’s face, she sure as fuck did.

“I did, and I would happily do it again,” she countered with a hearty laugh.

Willa was the first to set foot on the stairs leading up to the door, followed by Eirin and Carina. In her eagerness, she hadn’t even noticed the Dunmer huddled together in either side of the door when she arrived at the patio outside the tavern.

Hearing their own names caused some consternation among the would-be ambushers and the sneak attack was almost ruined. Vilayn, who had been holding the mistletoe last by dint of being the tallest, let his grip on it slacken as he strained to hear what was said, either to protect his own reputation or to hear the gossip about somebody else. Nobody bothered to take it from him, too busy doing the same thing, until the women were on the steps.

Natural instinct kicked in at that point. Braskan elbowed his way past Oran, snatched at the sprig and held it over his head. Willa was met at the door by a crooked, gap-toothed leer, all too familiar, under heavily lidded eyes.

Ethysil looked at Eirin, then at the comforts of the study around him, and then into his glass of wine. Each stare grew progressively longer until he said, pushing away the temptation to sigh,

4. push my muse violently enough away to make them stumble and fall

All Ethysil had time to think, as he tumbled into the water, was that Carina’s insistence he not wear his new robes out on this occasion suddenly made sense. He landed in the pond with a crash, shattering the calm surface and disturbing the scribs which had been poking around at its edge, and surfaced a few moments later with a less than amused expression. A tangle of duckweed trailed down the middle of his forehead.

all right there Scroogethar

PS. Yes, I do regret giving Vilayn those arm band things.

Hazil is officially Too Small. I have no idea whether the Yellow Pages joke is a thing outside the UK, but if not, here you go [x].

Random Number Generator: Tosti, Vilayn, Ethysil.

📺 Do they share information about their relationships freely with friends and family?

Sharing general information about himself is rare enough for Tosti, let alone about his personal life. Besides, he doesn’t have much of one to discuss -- other than when he wants information out of someone, or when the crew are starting to question the second mate, he rarely maintains intimate relations with anyone.

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♦️ Are they concerned with the social status of their partner?

The only time Vilayn would be concerned is either when pretending his partner was of the nobility would make for a more exciting story, or when his partner actually being of the nobility could cause unwanted political complications. He knows his place. He’s a sailor, among the lowest of the low, and entered that life as an ordinary seaman, not even an officer. His husbands are a former ship’s cook and a common clerk. He is not one to judge. Besides, the lower classes have more fun.

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💭 Do they tend to sleep better when in bed with their partner?

“Aye, captain, me too. There’s something... fishy about her.”

“...Vi?”

“Aye?”