#moern

Check out new work on my @Behance profile: "D + M + Location symbol" https://lnkd.in/gaH-RY97

What’s another secret between spies?

I’ll go with a less discussed pairing I’ve been thinking about for a while!

“Why here, Doern?” Morrissey complained, his arms tired of climbing. “We could’ve gone to Drytop, murder some Inquest, and be done with it.”

Doern, who was considerably higher up than Morrissey, glanced at him before resuming his climbing.

“It’s ‘Preceptor’, Agent,” he corrected, lifting himself up from a ledge and surveying the scene. “And Zephirites won’t suspect a couple of leisure travelers spending coin in their domain. This way, we can investigate in peace.”

Morrissey rolled his eyes, grunting as he tried to lift himself up as well, arms trembling. Until Doern grabbed him and pulled him up, pulling him close when he almost lost his balance. The sylvari looked down at him, and a slow smirk began to form on his lips.

“That’s a lame excuse to invite me on a date, darling,” he cooed. Doern, however, let him go without another word, turning towards what they were there to see.

“Focus, Agent,” he ordered, kneeling down in front of a bright orange crystal. “And please, call me ‘Preceptor’.“

Morrissey pursed his lips on a grimace, reluctanly walking towards the crystal as well. A wave of heat seemed to emanate from it, and the sylvari felt as if the sun hit his face, despite being the middle of the night.

“Our preliminary investigations show that whoever touches the crystal will harness its powers,” Doern explained, “But the exact mechanics are still unknown. Now if you could hold on to the crystal as I measure your magic levels-...”

“Wait,” Morrissey interrupted, as Doern got a strange, asura-looking contraption from his bag. “You brought me here as a test subyect?”

“Do you wish to abort the mission, Agent?” Doern asked, unphazed. Morrissey mumbled a couple of insults, crossing his arms and grunting in frustration.

“No, okay, let me grab that pretty jewel for you,” he exclaimed, snatching it from where it levitated, a bit above the floor.

Immediately, the asura scanner buzzed and sparkled, and a tiny explosion blew the screen again, making both Whispers operatives jump back. Doern examined the remains of the apparatus, intrigued as Morrissey got the crystal up to his face.

“Do you feel any different than usual?” Doern asked. Morrissey shrugged.

“Warmer, I suppose,” he mumbled. “Still, if that was it, I want to go down. The height is making me dizzy, and-...”

He took a step backwards, and suddenly the floor disappeared beneath his feet. Morrissey frowned, confused, as he started to fall from the cliff, confused about why, and when, and how. But before fear could set in, a line shot beside him, and Morrissey held on to it as Doern quickly pulled him up, grabbing him once more. Only then, the sylvari shivered and held on to his superior, trembling.

“Holy... mulch,” he mumbled, throwing the crystal away. “I almost-... I could just kiss you right now, if I didn’t want to kill you!”

A strange kind of glare appeared in Doern’s eyes, as they held on to each other for a little bit more than necessary. Morrissey felt himself blush, as the intensity of his glance burned into him, making the murderous urge subside for a more tempting, pressing urge.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mozz,” Doern murmured, letting him go. “We still have a lot of work to do.”

As he started to climb down, Morrissey managed to smirk once more.

Morrissey has been very busy, just coordinating stuff between orders. He’s good sneaking around and gathering intel, and has been using his powers for good - for once. So it’s no surprise to him when Doern gives him a new mission to survey the Festival, keeping an eye on the Zephyrites, and seeing if he can find something out the Order doesn’t know yet.

What’s weird is that Doern’s going with him. All strictly job-related, of course.

When they take long walks on the beach? Just job-related.

When they drink and lay on the sand under the moonlight? Job-related.

When they take a trip on the tourist boat, feeling the salty wind on their faces, hesitating to hold hands? Job-related.