#tonlen

“Sit first, I have nearly as much hair as you,” he teases, moving to sit on the sofa in the living area. Oisin takes a seat behind him and begins the slow process of undoing the braids. He picks up their conversation from before the rain came, talking idly while they work. Once the outer loops are taken care of, Tonlen sighs and stretches his neck - the loops were pretty but they concentrated the weight of his hair. He hadn’t realized the strain until they were undone. 

Oisin sets to work on the inner rings, their fingers sinking deeper into his hair, closer to his skull. They shift closer so that he feels their breath on the back of his neck. The only part of them touching him are the brief moments where their fingertips brush against his scalp. Yet, he feels their breath, and he can smell their sweet perfume, now mixed with the scent of rain that surrounds them both. His eyes flutter closed and he bites his lip, doing everything in his power to keep any hint of arousal out of view. Still, he gasps a little when Oisin shifts and he feels their leg brush against his lower back. 

Tonlen is a physical person. His work surrounds craft with his hands and he adores touch. For so long those around him would not touch him for fear of his frailty. But Tonlen is whole now, an adult who enjoys touch and sex and has longed for Oisin’s touch for many, many months. There have been kisses and hand holding but nothing farther than that. Oisin is inexperienced and Tonlen longs to give them the romance they deserve. Still, he equally longs to feel them and having them so close now, touching him, even in such a chaste way, is embarrassingly arousing. 

“You have beautiful hair,” they murmur, making him smile.

“When it isn’t frizzed with rain,” he replies. Oisin’s hands slide further into Tonlen’s hair and he cannot stifle the gasp as they gently hold his scalp. They shift and their breath is suddenly ghosting over his ear, their lips so, so close to his skin. 

“Even so,” they say, and then he feels their own interest - questioning and soft, but definitely there. He turns his head just slightly, eyes at half mast, wanting so badly to kiss them.

Oisin presses their lips to Tonlen’s cheek, kissing it, slowly moving lower, their lips continuing to graze his skin until finally they reach his lips. The kiss starts as all of their kisses do - sweet, chaste, full of the sweet emotion they share between them. The energy shifts between them and the kiss deepens. Tonlen gently presses his tongue against Oisin’s lips and they open for him. A soft groan escapes Tonlen as he gives into the kiss, relishing the heat and taste of Oisin’s mouth. 

Their hands are still in his hair, and at this angle, Tonlen is practically laying atop Oisin, head resting on their shoulder. It’s not the most comfortable position which prompts some slow shifting so that Oisin’s arms come around Tonlen in a close embrace, their hand coming up to gently caress his cheek.

Unh. They’re all around Tonlen, holding him, touching him, tongue in his mouth. He wants them with a desperation he hasn’t felt in nearly two decades. He wants them on top of him, to feel their weight against him, bodies aligned and needy. 

Oisin pulls back, gasping a little, lips reddened from the kissing. Unthinking, Tonlen follows them, snagging their lips in another quick kiss. A whimpering sound escapes from Oisin and they lean down and kiss Tonlen’s nose, eyebrow, and forehead. 

Tonlen reaches up and runs a thumb over Oisin’s lower lip. Their tongue flicks out and he groans in response. 

“I want you,” he says, his other hand coming up to undo the buttons on their shirt. He only opens a couple before leaning forward and kissing the exposed flesh. They grasp and their head falls back.

“You’re amazing,” they whisper. Tonlen continues to kiss them and at some point their mouths lock again. Oisin shifts and Tonlen moves with them, letting them guide the motions of this dance. This is the farthest they have ever gone and he doesn’t want them to regret any of it. They end up horizontal on the couch with Tonlen on his back and Oisin looming over him, their mouth still on his, their tongue in his mouth. 

Distantly, Tonlen realizes his hair has been absolutely ruined for the day but oh, this is the absolute best way to ruin it. He reaches up and tangles his hands in Oisin’s freer hair, loving the feel of their thick, frizzy hair around his fingers. They feel so good - every bit of them, from the knees pressing against his thighs to their hands to their lips to their hair. 

They lower themselves against Tonlen and his body arches to meet them. Even with his slightly smaller stature, their bodies align so well. When his hips cant upwards, he feels a tell-tale hardness. Oisin makes a sound halfway between a gasp and a mewl, hips thrusting against Tonlen reflexively. 

Some reason enters Tonlen’s brain and he retracts enough to look up at them. The blue of their eyes are nearly overtaken by their pupils, blown wide with pleasure. Hair a mess and lips swollen with kisses and they look like sex, beautiful, hot sex that Tonlen wants to fall into for the next several hours. Potentially even days. But they are new and he cares entirely too much for them to rush this.

“We don’t have to do any more than this,” he says, gently trailing his thumb along their cheek. Oisin leans into his touch, turning just enough to press a gentle kiss to the heel of his hand. His heart leaps into his throat at the gesture and suddenly he wishes they were going slower. Physicality he can do, but affection...it’s so much harder. 

“I want…” they start. Tonlen waits but they don’t continue.

“Yes, darling? You can want anything, I’ll do what I can to give it to you. Time? I can do that. More? I can do that too. Something different? Tell me, darling.” They seem to rally at his words, a small smile spreading across their face.

“I want to see you, to touch you, learn you.” He blinks up at them, then smiles lasciviously.

“You want to see and touch my naked body?”

They blush furiously, “You’re so beautiful, I...please?”

“Oh, darling, yes.” He sits up and sets to disrobing. He hails from Arlathan and is quite aware of the art that is removing clothing. He is no professional by any means, but he has worked with enough of those artists to have picked up a few things. The graceful movements, the slow yet deliberate removal of clothing. His eyes rarely leave Oisin’s, watching their reactions as he bares himself in a purely sexual light - completely unlike the atmosphere of the baths. It’s all utilitarian in the baths, so de-sexualized to ensure safety. But here, Tonlen is sex and desire. He is lithe and moving his body in ways that are only to invite sexual attention. 

When he is fully disrobed, he leans back onto the couch, hands above his head, hips angled lewdly toward Oisin. 

“Like what you see?” 

They swallow, “Um, you…” Their hand reaches out then falls back into their lap. 

“You can touch me if you’d like. I welcome your touch, but if you want to just look that’s alright too.” They are in control, he tells himself, even as his arousal is still very much apparent and very much in need of...tending to. 

“Your tattoos are amazing,” they say. Taking a chance, he gently reaches out and guides their hand to a tattoo on his chest - a small purple tulip hanging around his collarbone. With that one touch, they come alive and their hands begin to learn the land of Tonlen’s chest. They map out his tattoos, brush over his nipples, making him bite his lip. At the sight, they trail their fingers back up over a nipple, gently rolling it.

“Mmm, that feels good.” It’d feel even better with their mouth but this isn’t about that - they want to learn him, so they will. 

They take their time in exploring his body. They have an artist’s eyes and hands, and they touch him with a reverence he’s never experienced previously. Lithadra had been an artist - an erotic dancer who enthralled those who came to watch them dance. But never had he ever touched Tonlen like this - like he was the most exquisite and fascinating thing in the room. Everything with Lithadra had been a dance, but with Oisin it’s different. He is letting them lead but that’s just the thing he’s made the decision to let them, it isn’t just assumed they’ll lead - or assumed that he will lead! 

“Oisin?” His voice is soft (the only soft part of him at the moment) and laden with affection. They look up from where they were tracing a newer tattoo on his thigh.

“D-did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, I...may I kiss you?” It seems a little like an absurd question since he is very much naked and their hands are near his half-mast erection. It also seems entirely the right thing to do. Oisin’s look of alarm morphs into a sweet expression of a smile.

“Yes.” They lean forward and he kisses them. It’s not a chaste kiss, but it isn’t a kiss meant to lead to sex either, it’s a lover’s kiss - full of affection and sensuality...and trust. 

“I want...may I touch you?” They ask when the kiss ends. Their voice is heavy with meaning and given that he had already given them permission to touch him, he thinks they must be referring to his cock. Neither of them, however, can get away with assumptions.

“Where do you want to touch me?” He asks then presses a kiss to the corner of their mouth because he can’t help himself. Those lips, oh they’ll be the death of him.

“Your...um, that is…” they swallow and pause.

“Do you want to touch my cock?” He asks gently, careful to keep all expectation out of his voice. He wants them to learn to do this on their own. 

They flush but nod, biting a luscious lip. “Yes.” 

Blood rushes southward, hardening him once more, eager for their attention. He leans back and gestures, “By all means, please touch me.” 

They smile and it is a gorgeous smile, full of affection and wonder, it takes his breath away. They don’t immediately go to fondle him, instead they bend down and give him yet another kiss.

“Thank you.” 

He feels like he should be thanking them as they move their hands down, down, and finally reach the black curls framing his cock. Tonlen does not lack for confidence, or size for that matter. That said, he very much hopes Oisin enjoys his body. 

Their eyes are half-mast, lips parted in wonder when they finally brush their fingers against his erection. 

“Yes,” he whispers, head falling back before coming forward immediately to watch. 

“How...tell me what to do.”

“Mmm, what you’re doing feels good. Maybe touch me like how you like to touch yourself?” Again they blush and he smiles. “Darling, it’s natural - love your body.” He certainly wants to love their body, but that’s for another time. 

Still blushing, they grasp him more firmly and slowly begin to work him. It’s looser than what he uses for himself, but it’s Oisin touching him. Oisin with their long fingers and their freckles and oh, damn, that is good. 

“Tonlen?”

“Mmm, yes, darling?”

“Could...could you show me?” Oh he can definitely do that. He takes his length in hand and begins to stroke himself, watching Oisin’s face the entire time. Precome beads at the tip and he runs a thumb over the head. 

“Oisin,” he groans and strokes himself in earnest. His free hand comes up and tweaks a nipple. Oisin’s eyes are wide and hungry, taking in the eroticism of Tonlen touching himself. 

He’s touched himself many, many times since beginning this romance. But having Oisin here, watching him, their hands questing to touch him - anywhere, everywhere - he doesn’t last long. 

He cries out in pleasure as he comes, hips thrusting off the couch, spending against his chest. Their name is on his lips and their hands on his legs. 

Tonlen flops back against the couch, breathing heavy and his cock softening. Damn.

“That was...amazing,” Oisin says after a long minute. Tonlen turns to them with a big smile. 

“I’m happy to please. Would you like anything, too?” They remain completely unclothed and untouched save for those lips. He wants to touch them, learn them as they learned him.

But Oisin shakes their head, even with the bulge evident in their breeches, “I don’t think I’m ready for that. I’m sorry.”

“Oh darling, there is nothing to apologize for. This was incredible.” He leans up on his arms and kisses their nose, “you’re incredible. Now, let me up so I can clean this mess.” 

Ten minutes later, Tonlen is cleaned, his hair put up into a bun and a loose robe wrapped around his body. He leans against Oisin on the couch and they just...talk. There’s no expectation to continue, from him or from Oisin. It’s...nice to have someone like this again. The sex is great, but this? The casual talking, leaning against them and talking about his art and their art - that’s what he’s been craving since he left Lithadra. It was good to be on his own for a while, but then it just turned to loneliness. 

He doesn’t feel lonely with Oisin. 

The day gets long and eventually Oisin must leave lest one of their parents comes barging in demanding to know Oisin has remained unmolested. The irony doesn’t escape him. They stand in the doorway, looking down at him with soft, blue eyes.

I’m falling in love with you, he nearly says, but his tongue is suddenly rubber and sudden fear takes the place of affection. He sucks in all of his emotions and a small chasm forms between him and Oisin. They blink, taken aback, even as Tonlen smiles.

“I want to see you again, soon,” he tells them. 

“Yes!” They take his hands, trying to physically cross the space Tonlen’s own fears created in the span of seconds. 

“You are such a light, my darling,” he murmurs, “I’ll write to you.”

When he receives word that she will be granted these rest days, he sets to work. He knows the first day, or perhaps two days, will be spent at home with her family. Sleeping and recuperating. But he sends a missive requesting the third day, even if it is only for an afternoon. He promises nothing strenuous, and in fact, he plans to pamper her.

Oisin’s reply is short but sweet, clearly written by someone else to give her fingers a rest. He suspects the neat script belongs to Einin, explaining the lack of normal endearments in the reply. Still, it says love at the bottom and it fills him with a reciprocating warmth as she agrees to the day.

He awaits her at the Eluvian, dressed in a looser fitting tunic and flowing pants. She arrives rested and beautiful as always. Her hair is in a simple braided bun, and the paint upon her face is minimal.

“Darling,” Tonlen says, striding to her. He takes her face gently in his hands and kisses her softly.

“Oh, I’ve missed you so,” she sighs, leaning her forehead against his. He suppresses the desire to kiss her all over. They are in public and today is not about his desires, but rather her comforts.

“As I have missed you. Come, I have arranged something for you.” He takes her hand and they start their walk through Daran to the baths. She leans against him, her aura soft and tired but vibrating with happiness. He does not hide his affection or love, instead surrounding her with it even though they are in public. Passerby give them a wide berth, and normally he would not be so unrestrained, but he cannot find the ability to care when this is the first time in several months they have stolen a moment together.

They arrive at the baths and she sighs.

“A bath?”

“A private bath,” he corrects, “well, not entirely, I will be there unless you do not want me to - though that would prevent some of the surprises I planned.” The baths have rooms that can be rented for privacy. It requires some forethought, but it’s not exactly difficult to reserve a bath.

Oisin turns to him and presses her lips to his temple, “Of course I want you there, though I do not think I am up for...certain activities.”

“Darling, if I wished to make love to you, I would not bring you here. Not to worry.” He squeezes her hand then guides her into the bathing hall. Their private bath is in a room along the west wall. It is a nice room with bath centered in the middle, rectangular in shape the corners are rounded. Nothing in the room has a hard edge - not even the windows, which are circular and angled high with stained glass to prevent any would-be peeping toms from looking into the room.

The room itself is a warm off-white with accents of turquoise and brass. There are towels and special ordered bathing products he’d ordered placed by the bath. Lit candles provide a gentle scent of a sea breeze.

Oisin sighs, tension quickly leaving her shoulders.

“It’s lovely, Tonlen,” she murmurs. He kisses her cheek then sets to slowly divest her of her clothing. He leaves her hair up, hair will come later. First, Tonlen wishes to tend to the body. Once naked, she steps into the warm water, giving a sigh of comfort. She settles into a rounded corner while Tonlen fetches a small sphere of salts and soaps baked together. He plops it into the water where it sizzles then sinks, radiant blues and whites sputtering up from it, turning the water into a beautiful mosaic.

“Oh!” Oisin gasps, “oooh.” She sinks further into the pool when the enchanted soaps begin to coil around her.

“It is enchanted to relax the muscles and to soften the skin - it is rumored to be exceptionally relaxing.”

“It is. Join me?” She asks, batting heavy eyelids at him. Who is he to deny her this?

Tonlen quickly disrobes, his loose clothing picked strategically for this. He steps into the water and lets out a sigh himself. It does feel incredible, his own worn body seems to melt into the ease of the water. It is tempting to simply relax with her, enjoying the warmth and the soap - but he has a plan, and he very much wants to fulfill it.

He knew that sex was likely not happening, which he doesn’t mind. But he did miss touching her, and he thinks she missed the touching as well. Add that to her sore muscles and the conclusion was logical.

Tonlen leans over the edge of the bath and picks up a bottle. He bought it at the same shop as the bath bomb and the enchantment is similar.

“What do you have there?” Oisin asks, her voice lower and raspier as the magic relaxes her. Tonlen smiles and gestures for her to turn around.

“Turn around and I will demonstrate.” She flushes slightly but does as he requests, giving him her back. He pours some of the lotion into his palms and works it into a lather before placing his hands on her shoulders.

Slowly and gently, he works the oil into her skin. His thumbs make gentle circles into her skin and muscles, slowly working them to further relaxation.

“Oooh,” she breathes, melting under his touch. He leans forward and kisses the tip of an ear.

“You have been working so hard, I know. You deserve rest.” Inch by inch he works his way down from her neck to her shoulders. He works at her right shoulder first, feeling the muscles bunched and aching for some sort of release.

She makes little noises of shock and pleasure, and sometimes in pain at the massage. But he knows it is a good pain, the kind that is working a pain out and not setting one. Down her arm he massages, carefully tending to the muscles of her biceps and triceps, then the tired muscles of her forearm. He pays special attention to her wrist, rotating it and murmuring soft healing spells as he brings it to his lips for a kiss. He works at her palm and fingers, pressing in similar spells to ease the pain of overuse.

He repeats the same process with her other arm, slowly pulling apart the tension. He only pauses the massage to hold her, kissing her neck and murmuring sweet things to her. How he missed her, how he loves her, how he wants to make her feel good.

There are tears upon her cheeks but a soft smile too and he knows that there are no tears of pain. The emotion is much and he is accustomed to her displays by now. He kisses the tears on her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose, before settling at her mouth. They share a long passionate but unhurried kiss that nearly completely distracts him from the rest of the pampering.

But he remembers and pulls away, “I’m not done yet,” he says softly before returning to the bottle of oil. He shifts so that he is at her back again and resumes the massage, moving lower this time. She presses into his hands, eyes fluttering closed as his hands move to undo the knots in the center of her spine from bending and twisting so much. His fingers drift to her sides, skimming to the soft skin of her stomach before returning the muscle of her back.

“Oh, Tonlen,” she moans when he reaches the base of her spine, right before the curve of her ass. He presses his thumbs into the dimples right above her bum then moves them in small circles. She makes a sound that is halfway between a moan and a whine. Taking a hint, he continues to work that spot, only venturing out to give the muscles bunched around her hips similar treatment.

Oisin’s breath hitches and her head lolls. He spends a long time with her lower back, working it slowly until he worries that too much will actually cause more harm than good. Instead, Tonlen’s hands drift lower to the soft muscle and flesh of Oisin’s ass.

“Oh!” She says as she feels his hands.

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want,” he clarifies as he keeps his touches consistent with what he was doing, “these are muscles like all the rest.” Tonlen presses a kiss to the nape of her neck and she settles once more.

“A-alright.” He kisses her shoulders in thanks before continuing. This angle is not the best to massage her here, but he makes do. He does not venture towards her cleft like he would during sex. Instead, his hands remain with the soft muscles, pushing and rubbing them until she is moaning softly once more.

“I had no...idea,” she murmurs and he grins. He loves showing her new ways to love and to be loved. He loves that he is the one to show her this. Her reactions are so beautiful and honest that have him radiating love and affection in return.

Like he worked on her shoulders to her arms, Tonlen gradually shifts his hands down to her right thigh. He coaxes her to sit while he tends to her legs. He ignores the slight arousal in the air and the response to all the touching, focusing on his task. This isn’t for sex, this is for her to relax.

She bites her lip and moans when he makes it to her foot. He presses into her arch and works some of the lotion into the heel of her foot. When he touches her toes she starts to giggle, making him smile in return.

The left leg has much of the same effect. Her feet are sore and he takes all the care to ease some of the tension from them.

All that is left after the massage is her hair, but her eyes are hooded and she is beckoning him to her.

“Love,” she calls. He sits next to her and she quickly moves to him, wrapping her arms around him and tucking her head against his chest. From this angle, he can see that the lotion has soaked into her skin and it makes her look radiant. Resplendent and golden, absolutely gorgeous.

“I want to do this to you too,” she says after a long while.

“Mmm, I would love that. Another time, though, today is about you.” He adores spoiling her, he would do it constantly if funds or time were of no concern. He would have her bedecked in the best finery, smelling of her favorite flowers and perfumes. She would have everything her heart desires - from the halla she loves to clothes to her dream home. He wants these things for her, wants to help her achieve them.

She looks up at him and he down at her. Their lips meet in another kiss, moving against each other unhurried and loving. His hands drift to her hair, unpinning the bun and slowly undoing the braid so that her hair is spilling down her back into the water like a golden waterfall.

He breaks the kiss with a sweeter kiss to her nose.

“Time for your hair, darling,” he whispers, not wanting to break the soft atmosphere with a loud voice. Oisin sighs and nods, turning so he has full access to her long locks. He pours water over her hair then works a comb gently through. Her hair is so lovely, like the rest of her, it’s thick and catches the light with the different hues of blondes. It is hair that would make anyone envious, thick and heavy without being frizzy and overwhelming. She wears it so well, with just the littlest bit of fringe in the front to frame her lovely face.

Such long hair takes time to wash, however. He works from the top down with the shampoo until it is time to rinse. Afterwards, he starts up again with the conditioner. He takes care to massage her scalp while the conditioner sits, moving around the base of her skull all the way up to forehead and then back to around her ears. She flushes at the ear touches even as he tries his best not to touch the sensitive tips.

His name is a breathless sigh on her lips.

With her hair finished, his plan comes to a simmering close. She turns to him in the water, fresh face covered in freckles that he has kissed more times than he can count. Love washes over him.

“Let me wash you, love,” she beseeches. Satisfied with his own plan, he nods. She grabs a washcloth and grabs the soap and begins to lovingly wash him in turn. Her hands linger over his skin, pausing over the still sensitive skin on the back of his shoulder.

“This one is new,” she says, tracing the outline of a new flower - a pretty red amaryllis with petals outlined in gold. She presses a soft kiss to it, making him shiver.

“I got it two weeks ago on a visit to my family,” he says once she resumes washing him. She follows a path similar to his own, flowing down to his arms and hands.

“Oh? And how are they? And little Asarla! How is she?”

“They’re well! Asarla is very smart for her age from what I gather. Only three but solving puzzles made for five year olds. She told me that she wants more pretty shoes.” He laughs, his little sister is so much like him and their mother. She is so gloriously stubborn and adorable, he loves her to bits.

“That’s wonderful, perhaps we can arrange for a large dinner between our families again, soon?”

Tonlen sighs and turns to her, “Darling, this is supposed to be a relaxing time.” She chuckles.

“I concede your point. What made you think of this anyways?”

He shrugs, her hands slipping around his shoulders, hands cleaning him but also gripping in what he thinks he is appreciation. Her form is also deeply pleasing to him and he would be lying if he said that he did not greatly appreciate getting to touch her so much with the massage.

“When I was an apprentice, there was a commission that took months to complete alongside my master. It was this elaborate leather, gold, and gems. I was tasked with assisting with the leather embossing and some of the metalwork. By the end of the commission, my body felt like it was destroyed. My back ached, my hands were torn up, it hurt to move my neck. My uncle Tasallir saw how in poor shape I was, so he had it arranged for me to spend the day with a massage healer. I am not as good as a massage healer, but I thought this might help ease some of the pain.” She pauses in her ministrations and turns around to face him.

“You’re right, you’re better. I can’t think of anything more perfect than this, thank you.” His heart clenches. She is wonderful and good and he loves her dearly. He swells with happiness that she has so enjoyed his gift.

The seamstress, Allure, nods, sketching quickly, making notes.

“Do you have any other specific ideas?”

“Flowers, I’d like it to incorporate flowers somehow. And I want the slit to be to the top of my hip…or even to my waist, I feel like showing off.”

She blinks, “Which is it – over your hip or to your waist?”

He contemplates it for a moment before sighing, “Over the hip, I shouldn’t scandalize the poor thing.”

She chuckles, returning to her sketch, “Seeking to woo someone?”

“Yes,” Tonlen says, leaning back in the chair. He considers it for a moment before deciding.

“Do you know of an Oisin?” He asks. Allure stops her work and glances up at Tonlen, her face suddenly serious.

“As in, General Thenerassan’s and Spymaster Uthvir’s kid? Plus two other parents that no one really knows much about but rumor has it they’re in very good with Mana’din herself? That Oisin?”

Tonlen blanches. Then swallows. Oh. That is…more than a little intimidating.

“His…his father is Thenerassan but perhaps that’s a common name –

She shakes her head slowly, “You are going to need an exorbitant amount of luck, my friend. And class. And willpower. And a good helping of fear and stubbornness.” Allure smiles though, and Tonlen can see the cogs turning in her head.

“A word of caution, Tonlen,” she says slowly, her expression turning sharp, “Daran is not like Arlathan. We look out for our own.”

Tonlen raises an eyebrow at her, “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a warning, and a slight one considering Oisin’s family. But enough unpleasantness, tell me more about this gown you would like.”

It takes a while for Tonlen to not feel odd or threatened, but the talk of fashion and color helps break him out of it. They settle on an off the shoulder design that will display the currently gold flower tattoos on Tonlen’s shoulder. The sleeves billow out at the bicep and float over a fitted portion of the sleeve around his forearms. There are to be flower appliques along the collar and torso, fading to no appliques by his waist. At his waist there is to be a sash of the same gauzy bright yellow, before the gown gains more fabric in flowing pleats. There is no train, to allow for more dancing, but the slits run up the sides of his legs and up over his hip. He’ll have to wear some modesty stockings, but that’s nothing new to him.

There’s no time to have it enchanted, and the design is remarkably simple due to the restricted time. Still, he’ll make it work. He has some silver and gold twined ear cuffs his father made for his two hundredth birthday that he hasn’t worn in a while. But they’ll work beautifully for this occasion.

The next stop on Tonlen’s list is the hairdresser. There is a product he can smooth into his hair to give it an iridescent sheen. It’s more expensive than he was planning, but now that he knows more about what he’s dealing with by pseudo-initiating a courtship with Oisin…the expense is worth it. How he makes that call after only three encounters, two of which were filled with business, he can’t really say. Papae would say it’s his heart knowing something. Memae would say it’s irrational and it would be wise to turn back now.

Sometimes Tonlen wonders how his parents managed to get together. But then he thinks of other things because ew.

Next he has his appointment with a hand specialist. Working with leather is not kind on the hands and normally he isn’t too bothered by his rougher hands, but right now, he wants to feel pretty and perfect. Which means he needs a full restorative manicure.

He drops his things off, then heads to the manicurist. They take one look at his hands and click their tongue.

“Leather work?”

“Yes, I am apparently the go to person for military boots now,” Tonlen says.

“I’ll fix these right up, don’t you worry. Any scents you prefer?” They ask as they pull out their needed tools.

“Lavender honey, please.” Tried and true and very pleasant. For the next couple of hours, the manicurist works their magic and smooths Tonlen’s hands. They freshen the skin by removing old, which is painful, but they’re quick to reduce the pain and regenerate new skin. Cuticles are pushed and prodded and nails are buffed then painted. They even go up to Tonlen’s elbows and smooth the skin there. It’s equal parts healing and pampering.

Tonlen leaves the manicurist with beautiful hands and arms. He’ll see them again before the celebration, to truly make his hands soft and nice. This visit was the first step and now he feels mostly raw.

When he returns home, he decides to spend the rest of the day reading. He’ll be up to working tomorrow, when his hands are less raw, and he is in a better mindset to actually work.

He tries to read, he does, but his mind keeps wandering to what Allure said. Tonlen hasn’t engaged that much with Daran outside of his work. He goes about his work, shops sometimes but outside of that he hasn’t ventured out, hasn’t made friends. He had friends in Arlathan, he’d take lunch breaks, go eat with them – they’d view art together, he even had a book club.

He hasn’t integrated well in Daran, and maybe that’s part of why he had such a lack of control around Oisin. Maybe it’s why he wants to court Oisin so vehemently. He’s…lonely. It’s a word he never thought he’d use to describe himself, but here he is, lonely in a city with only a dance with a beautiful person to look forward to.

A beautiful person who happens to be the child of a general and the spymaster. Tonlen’s always had good taste.

His head falls back against his chair, and he stares up at his ceiling. Oisin is integrated into this city, into this society. Tonlen is just…what is he? He works for Mana’din but he isn’t really of Daran. People who meet him say he has Arlathan written all over him and yet he’s here. He’s here and he’s lonely and apparently going to court a beautiful person who is the child of two of the most powerful people in Mana’din’s territories.

He wishes for a moment that Samihlan wasn’t so far away, he could travel, see his brother. Ileth is rational and comforting about this stuff. He already knows what it’s like to move to a new city and flounder. Except that on the surface it looks like Tonlen is flourishing. His business is doing well, he is making good money, his reputation is spectacular. A gorgeous, truly breath-taking person is interested in him and for the first time since Lithadra, he wants to be with someone.

Ugh, he sounds so morose. He’s really quite the cheerful person normally. Maybe he shouldn’t pursue Oisin, maybe it’s just to distract from his own lonely existence in this city where he doesn’t feel like he belongs.

No. That’s absurd, he likes Oisin. Oisin is…beautiful and has this smile that makes Tonlen feel like he’s swallowed butterflies. And if he is wrong and they don’t work, then…he doesn’t have to hurt Oisin if that comes true.

Tonlen sets the book down and opens the box with the golden scarf. He imagines Oisin wearing it, loving it, being beautiful in it. He should be proactive. It’s only been a few days since Oisin stopped by, which really isn’t that appropriate amount of time Tonlen had mentioned. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be proactive.

Initial courting gifts should be small offerings. The scarf is a good start, but he wants to explain why he is sending this particular gift. Prose is clunky, so he sets to compose poetry.

I walked the streets of Arlathan,

Lined with gold and umber

And all I could think of

Was you.

I thought of your eyes,

The color pure and bright,

And your hair a finer gold

Than any on this street.

The scarf, gold and flowing

Like your hair but not.

I hope it brightens your day,

Like the thought of your smile

Brightens mine.

He forgot about this part. Initial courtship is so…butterfly inducing. It’s worrying over what the other person is going to think upon receiving it.

He files the poem away with the box. An appropriate amount of time would be after the celebration, all things considered. The idea doesn’t sit well with him, however, since Oisin seemed to enjoy the thought of receiving a gift relatively soon. The celebration is in three weeks. Tonlen can send the package in two weeks, which should give the package time to arrive, and it means that it will be fresh in Oisin’s mind at the celebration.

Over the next two weeks, Tonlen makes strides to not be so isolated. He finds a new book club out of the local library. It’s for mysteries, specifically the fun kind, the ones with spunky protagonists and erstwhile companions. There’s six of them, including Tonlen. One’s a low-level manager, another is a gardener, there’s a healer who specializes in bones and the regeneration of limbs, and one is a cartographer. The healer and the cartographer avoid talking about their work, but the gardener speaks plenty about her work. Tonlen is happy to gush about shoes too, and they all enjoy talking about the books of course.

He thinks by the time he sends the scarf and the poem (he spritzes the paper with the perfume he was wearing the second time Oisin had come by), that he’s made friends with the book club members. The cartographer, Trust (who is looking to change their name), has become particularly close. They like to cook and have shown up at Tonlen’s shop with a fully cooked dish a few times, worried that he’s not eating enough. Composure, the gardener, has invited Tonlen to the public gardens. He feels better, less alone, and he was right. He still wants to pursue Oisin, only now he feels assured that it’s not because he’s alone and grabbing onto the first the person to receive him well. His friends are just that, friends, all beautiful, but he feels no urge to woo them.

He sends the scarf and the poem in a small painted box. On the same day, he has his last fitting for the gown and he brings his recently completed boots. He steps up onto the pedestal for fitting and Allure lets out a low whistle.

“Those boots are amazing. Remind me to commission you,” she says, staring at his beautiful creations. They are high and snug against his thighs, leaving only a tantalizing amount of skin revealed between the high slit of the gown and the top of the boot. He is tall and elegant and striking. The deep purple contrasts beautifully with the yellow of the dress. There are minor fitting issues they resolve, but overall, Tonlen is exceptionally pleased with the effect.

He leaves the store feeling beautiful and excited for the celebration.

Decorations efforts have been under way for most of the month, transforming plain Daran into…less plain. The point of the celebration is the harvest of the apples, which vary between shades of red, pink, and golden yellow. There are ribbons above doors and great swaths of fabric strung over the streets. A metalworking co-op was commissioned to make cage-like decorations for the streetlamps. They resemble vines with little apple blossoms.

Stores all debut with sales and after seeing how widespread that trend is, Tonlen decides to have a sale of his own. For the few days before the great event, business booms. It booms so much that it almost depletes Tonlen of premade stock. He begins offering discounted commissions instead and that goes over very well. Suddenly he has fifteen commissions to do in addition to replenishing his stock. If business keeps up like this, he’ll need to take on an apprentice soon.

The sales keep him busy until the day of the celebration. Then everything is closed for the day as everyone crowds the streets to see the parade. It is a small, quaint procession compared to the absolute spectacles in Arlathan. But there is something nice knowing that the dancers and the ribbon twirlers, the fire eaters, everyone involved in the parade is Mana’din’s. It feels more personal in a way, and Tonlen can appreciate that.

He watches the procession from his apartment, leaning out the window to watch everything. He’s not overly fond of crowds and the parade walks right by his shop, so he has this grand benefit. After the parade, he follows the crowd out to the orchards outside of the city walls. There are booths and a large temporary hall constructed beside the trees. It’s all very fun and beautiful, even in its simplicity. Everything in Arlathan had been over the top and elegant and dangerous. This just feels happy.

The day is full of apple related activities. There is apple bobbing in multiple forms. There is the traditional form of hanging them from trees and people leap up and try to snag the hanging apples with their teeth, and the water version where the apples are in buckets and people must snatch them by essentially dunking their heads into the water.

There are cheers and carefree happiness at it all. It’s quite the treat to see.

“So this is your first harvest celebration,” Allure says. Tonlen turns from his spot by an apple carving station to see his seamstress dressed in a radiant pink two piece. He smiles and when she moves to hug him he allows her and even hugs her back.

“That obvious?”

“Fish out of water tend to flail, but you’re just standing and staring,” she replies, pulling back from him. She gestures to the table, “You’d be good at that, with your skills.”

Tonlen glances at the station and notes how one man maneuvers his knife with such precision, Tonlen is convinced he’s a carver of some sort.

“Perhaps, I’m interested in seeing what the rest of the celebration has to offer.” Allure links her arm with his and gestures outward.

“Allow me to be your guide! Here we have apple carving. You’ve already seen the apple bobbing because you had walk by those fools to get here. The dance platform will be completed in an hour, then a band will strike up. There is the apple cider area, complete with alcoholic and non-alcoholic varieties. There will be drunken singing by there later…” she runs through what seems to be a dozen activities, strolling him by them all (he makes a mental note to avoid the barrel rolling, he can just hear his mother’s voice “You did what?! Young man, that is dangerous! You could have died! Don’t you scare your poor mother like that! Come here and let me hold you for what will feel like hours!”).

Allure explains the significance of the orchards, how they’re planted for peace and everyone loves them so. The orchardists are well regarded in Daran and after eating an apple turnover, Tonlen can appreciate them too. It’s not just a celebration of the apples, but ongoing peace and goodness.

By the time they wander back over to the dancing pavilion, the band is playing, the dance floor is alight, and people are already beginning to sway with the music. His heart flutters in his chest and he hopes he catches sight of Oisin. But catching sight of Oisin may also mean he catches sight of Thenerassan, and he’s not sure how to handle that quite yet. Oisin said that Thenerassan thought Tonlen to be too forward and crass, which is understandable. But should Tonlen apologize for it? Explain that it’s been…over thirty years since he’s been involved in an early courtship, and even longer since he’s been the one to initiate the courtship. Or is that too much information?

It’s both nerve wracking and exciting. He hopes…he hopes he can have a dance with Oisin. Even one would be nice, but he’s unsure if it will be permitted considering….

“You need to stop that, be confident,” Allure reprimands. Tonlen rolls his eyes.

“Because it’s so easy to stop being nervous.”

“It is. You just remind yourself that you’re worth it and you move on to the good stuff.”

Tonlen arches his brow at her and shakes his head, nearly laughing in awe of her, “You really don’t understand this part, do you? Courtship is supposed to be nerve wracking, it’s tentative and new, and beautiful because it’s this new fluttering feeling in your stomach that you want to both stop and to never end because it happens only when you’re with that person.”

Her nose wrinkles, “That sounds horrible. No thank you, I have my list when I need to get my kinks out, that is plenty for me.”

Tonlen means to reply to her but he catches sight of a certain orange colored gown and straw-colored hair. He turns and there Oisin is, tall and radiant – just like at the shop. There is something different, though…the air surrounding…them. Oh. It’s a surprise, but what’s more concerning than that is the veritable horde around them. Tonlen recognizes Thenerassan, but there is also the almost client as well.

“This is where I take my leave, go get’em!” Allure whispers before slipping back into the crowd behind them.

He thinks of what Allure said about reminding himself he’s worth it. Because he is. Wow that is a lot people around Oisin. But before he can worry too much, a group splits off from the crowd, leaving Oisin with just their father and a couple of others.

Tonlen squares his shoulders and wiggles his toes, reminding himself that he looks damn good. He looks tall and beautiful and he is desirable. He smooths his hair back so that it is all tucked, slicked almost, behind his ears, cascading down his back in a shimmering display.

He walks over the dance floor, keeping his posture straight as he makes his way over to Oisin. He stops a fair distance away off from them, though, waiting until they see him. He isn’t staring but turned at an angle that allows him to appreciate the band playing while watching Oisin not so covertly inspect the crowd. Their eyes land on Tonlen and he pauses for a long moment, allowing them time to experience their own butterflies. He likes that thought. He makes them nervous just as they make him.

They look as if they mean to step forward, but something stops them and they turn to look…at Thenerassan. Ah.

Tonlen swallows and gathers himself. Oisin’s father is probably telling them to not approach him, which he can understand. Still, it makes Tonlen hesitate. But, no, Oisin is worth it and Tonlen is definitely worth it. He turns and smiles when he sees Oisin directly. They are spectacular in their burnt orange dress, it has a high collar and long voluminous sleeves but there are shimmering decorative seams that accentuate their chest and waist.

He turns and acts as if he’s just spied Oisin. He catches their eye and he smiles before striding to them.

A blush tints Oisin’s cheeks as Tonlen inclines his head in greeting, “What a treat to see you here, Oisin. You look radiant.”

They swallow, and several figures suddenly crowd around them, but before any of them speak, they manage to reply.

“Thank you, you look beautiful yourself.”

“You are as kind as you are lovely,” he says before turning to Thenerassan who is wearing a very critical look. The air around him is pointedly disapproving and he uses the slight height he still has on Tonlen to loom. Tonlen accepts it and enters a slight bow, with his foot behind him and everything.

“It is a pleasure to see you as well, Lord Thenerassan. I hope my work is suiting you?” He speaks while in his servile stance. Thenerassan is…very much above Tonlen’s station and Oisin’s father, insulting him is a disastrous idea.

“They are as you promised.” Tonlen rises slowly from his bow.

“I am pleased to hear that,” he says.

“So kind of you to ask, but now I must ask you to leave, we were having a family disc –

“Papae,” Oisin says, interrupting their father. Tonlen swallows. If Thenerassan truly wants him to leave…

“I understand, I do not wish to overstay my welcome. I am glad to see the shoes are treating you well.” He makes to back away when a small woman nudges Thenerassan.

“There is no need, we were just finished. It’s nice to meet you, Tonlen, I am Aili, Oisin’s mamae,” she says, smiling politely.

“Oh!” Tonlen says, smiling sweetly at her. What a darling woman, and he can suddenly see some of the family resemblance there, in the way Oisin smiles, it’s just like his mamae’s. “Pleased to meet you! It’s a delight to meet more of Oisin’s family.”

Another small person maneuvers next to Oisin, grinning broadly.

“Well, that’s great because there’s a lot of us,” she says, “I’m Mealla, Oisin’s big sister. And we were all just…going over there, weren’t we, Papae?” She says pointedly. Tonlen could hug her as she herds a still scowling Thenerassan away. Aili smiles and waves as she follows them, leaving Oisin with Tonlen.

“I must be honest, I am a little surprised that just happened,” he says.

“Yes, I…they’re not far, they’re probably listening to everything we’re saying,” they say, but they also take a slight step forward, their blush intensifying.

“I received your gift,” they start.

“Oh, oh good. Did you like it?” He asks softly, suddenly concerned that there is a chance they don’t.

“I loved it!” They say, blessedly interrupting his thoughts, “The scarf is beautiful and the poem was…I read it five times.”

“That warms my heart,” he replies, “does that mean you will permit me to send more gifts?”

Oisin nods readily, “Yes, I would like that very much.”

“Wonderful.” Tonlen extends a hand out to Oisin, smiling sweetly, “Would you care to dance?” Happiness colors the air around Oisin as they take Tonlen’s hand.

“I’d love to,” they say making Tonlen’s heart flutter like it’s preparing to take flight. He doesn’t think he can ever stop smiling as he guides Oisin to the dancefloor.

“I have a confession,” they say softly, still holding Tonlen’s hand. They have lovely hands, soft and larger than Tonlen’s own.

“Oh? Do tell,” Tonlen says, feeling flirty and happy as he leans close to Oisin. He moves to take their other hand for the current dance. They swallow and shake slightly as they raise their hand with his.

“I am not a good dancer.”

Their voice is tinged with embarrassment and nervousness. They look away, blushing fiercely and it just softens Tonlen’s expression.

“I’ll show you. This dance is simple, here.” Tonlen moves to show Oisin the starting position and the band eases into the dance. Oisin quickly follows Tonlen’s instruction and while it takes some finessing at first, Oisin is a quick learner. It’s a repetitive dance with only a few steps, and after the second repetition, Oisin gets the hang of it and moves more confidently along with Tonlen.

“There, you are doing beautifully,” Tonlen compliments. It’s not a dance that involves a lot of contact, but it’s pretty and allows for a lot of face to face time which is not something that other dances allow. He watches Oisin through a step and sighs.

“I want to know you.” It leaves his lips before he can even process it in his brain. And then it’s too late to take it back.

Oisin stutters and blushes and stumbles on a step, “What-what do you want to know? I’m not very interesting.”

“I find that hard to believe. And everything. I am greedy for knowledge, and in return, you can ask me anything as well, I love talking about myself,” he plays and a small laugh escapes Oisin.

“I gathered that!”

“I’m very mysterious, I know.” They turn, moving their hands in a fun move that makes Oisin laugh.

“You are to me,” they say when they come back into the face to face position.

“Then I’ll offer something. I think you can tell a great deal about a person from their family, or lack thereof. My mother is an attendant for Sylaise. I worked for Sylaise before Mana’din, in fact. My father is a jeweler, and my older brother is a baker.” All vey respectable professions. Oisin’s face lights up as Tonlen speaks and nods along.

“I agree, family says a lot, and I have a lot of family.” Their eyes dart away for a second before their expression turns sheepish. The next step has them closer and Tonlen tilts his head to the side.

“That can be good, but I know from my own family that it can be a bit annoying too.”

“Oh you have no idea,” Oisin deadpans. The song ends and Oisin takes Tonlen’s hand, turning him to look at a group of elves who had been near Oisin before.

“There’s Papae and Mamae and Mealla, who’ve you met. But there is also, my Nenae, Uthvir. Einin, my slightly older sister, and Ardal, my slightly older brother. And there is Virevas, my baby sister. Lavellan isn’t here, she’s on assignment, but she’s my eldest sister. And Nanae, Uthlin, is home right now, they’re not a fan of crowds.”

Tonlen blinks.

That.

That is a lot of people.

Six children. Four parents. Ten people. He…can scarcely picture Memae having a third child, let alone…this.

“That is….”

“A lot, I know.” They worry their lip and shrug, “but it’s also nice. I can’t imagine not having my siblings, I feel like it would be so…lonely.”

“It’s more like you have more privacy.”

“What’s that?” They ask and they both laugh. The crowd moves around them, but Tonlen doesn’t feel like moving from their spot yet, the band will play another dance soon anyways, they are simply taking a break.

“You said that…Einin and Ardal are only slightly older than you are?”

They nod, “Yeaah, we’re triplets. Ardal likes to call us former ‘womb-mates.’”

“That’s terrible. The pun, not the – triplets? That is amazing. I am willing to bet you three are the only triplets in all of Mana’din’s territories…even Arlathan!” He can’t get over it. But Oisin nods and looks...not uncomfortable but it is an expression that he recognizes as someone who is tired of talking about something. He probably gets the awe about his triplet status a lot, and it is probably exhausting.

Tonlen takes their hand and squeezes it gently.

“Your family is very interesting, but I would love to hear more about you, specifically.”

They smile and blush a bit, “Alright, but isn’t it your turn?”

“Forgive me, I am simply too eager to know you it seems. Let’s see. When I was little, I wanted to be a warrior. I didn’t fall in love with shoe making until I was older.” The band plays a quick ‘there is another dance coming soon’ noise that draws Oisin’s attention.

“Another dance is starting soon.”

“It is, we could go somewhere else and continue to talk if you would like,” Tonlen offers, careful to not presume that they would –

“Or we could dance some more,” Oisin offers. Tonlen grins and nods.

“I’d like that very much.”

The band cues up the song and Tonlen guides Oisin through the dance. They speak between instruction and laughing at the occasion bump or misstep. Oisin is not a strong dancer, but Tonlen cannot wish for any other partner right now. He finds himself utterly charmed by Oisin’s laugh and careful grip on him as they try to find their footing. They lean into him and follow his flirtations with endearing blushing and averted glances.

It is only when they say they’re an apprentice does Tonlen put it all together. They are young. Much younger than he is, at least. He wonders if he is their first real foray into this courtship world. And if it is…what a pressure. He wants to get this right for them, then. He doesn’t want them to go through anything less than wonderful. Tonlen’s own first courtship was…decent. He had largely been talked down to because he was young, and she was older, so she of course knew better than he did. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. Later attempts at courting had gone much more smoothly because he knew what to not tolerate.

Oisin shouldn’t go through that. They are much too kind and lovely for it.

He learns also that they are a painter and he has an overwhelming desire to see them paint. To see works that they have already painted. He asks what they like to paint, and it ranges from people to flowers to animals. They love animals. They’re all darling to them and they are so excited that it infects Tonlen too. He talks about he’s been thinking about acquiring an animal companion to help combat the loneliness of moving to a new city.

Oisin is thrilled by the idea. Their father keeps birds apparently, and they talk about all the birds they have come to care for, which is all of them. They are adorable as they go on about their little bird friends.

He doesn’t realize the dance is over until Oisin is standing still and hesitantly retracting their hands from his. He doesn’t want to let them go but it is appropriate, so he lets them. But he doesn’t stop smiling and he doesn’t step away from them.

“You are the most delightful person I have met in this city,” he chuckles. He is about to ask them to another dance when a familiar elf appears. Oisin turns and steps away from Tonlen, fully withdrawing.

“Nenae, we were just –

“Dancing, I saw. Are you having a good time?” This is their nenae so this is Uthvir. Uthvir pointedly directs their question to Oisin, who nods and smiles small.

“I was, am! Tonlen is an excellent dancer, he makes me look like I know what I’m doing.” They glance at Tonlen and he smiles, making his posture small and more servile.

“It’s an honor to dance with them,” he says, directly to Uthvir, but he slides his gaze to Oisin at the end. Their freckles become more difficult to see when they blush, the red disguises the little spots of brown over their nose and their cheeks. He can’t figure out which is cuter – the blush or the freckles.

“Your siblings want to go apple bobbing, specifically your brother. They’re forming teams and your sisters are ganging up on him,” Uthvir says. They’re maneuvering Oisin away, most likely to interrogate him themselves.

Oisin looks to Tonlen, mouth moving to say something before sighing, “I had a lovely time, I-I have to go.”

Tonlen smiles and nods, “Go, have fun, back your brother up. I had a wonderful time, as well.” Oisin pauses, then leaves, disappearing off the dance floor, a beautiful flash of orange through the crowd.

Uthvir, however, does not leave.

“You are courting my child,” Uthvir says.

“They are a wonderful person worth courting, I am simply honored that they may return the sentiment,” Tonlen replies. They turn to him and look at him the way his memae would look at his suitors. She’d dig up dirt on them all, see them, truly see them and evaluate them like she could see every fiber of who they are with that gaze. Uthvir has that kind of gaze. But sharper.

“I am not a bad person. I know no one will admit to being bad, but I really am not. I make shoes, I love animals too, I take no pleasure in harming others. I’m a good person. And I like Oisin, a lot, they’re special and I want to make them feel just how special they are.” He can’t believe he just said all that but at the same time he couldn’t not say it. He doesn’t want to stop courting Oisin because of their parents. He doesn’t want there to be this misconception that he is anything other than sincere and good. He will stop if Oisin wants him too but that should be Oisin’s choice or Tonlen’s choice.

Uthvir stands still and continues to level that gaze at him.

“That has yet to be seen. I want to believe you, do not give me reason to not,” is all they say before they turn and leave.

Well. That was ominous and vaguely threatening. But it wasn’t exactly condemnation, either. He watches them go with a lump in his throat. It is probably not a good idea to seek Oisin out again tonight. They had their dances and their talk. Talk that Tonlen did not want to end but there will be other times. There are more gifts to give and poetry to write.