#xhermionedanger

It wasn't much. Dorian was well aware of it. If there were back in Tevinter, he would have sneered at it, but it was all he could afford with what meager money had had managed to safe, ever since coming down south. Still it just wasn't much and by far not enough. Compared to what Cillian deserved, this was actually really petty. The more he thought about it, the more he felt as if this was a stupid idea. He almost had a heart to get up and leave again, but then he heard the door to the room open and his chance for flight was gone.

Nervous as he was, he stood from the sofa he had sat on, clutching the small tightly in his sweaty hands. Maker, why was he sweating so much? This was so undignified! Get a gri on yourself, Dorian!

And then Cillian was at the top of the staircase, looking at him with a curious smile.

“I- ah...”, Dorian began, suddenly not sure what he should say, or if he should even mention it at all. Still he tried his best to keep up his usual confident mannerism, even though his smiles was maybe a tad bit less flashy than usual.

“Lady Montilyet made me aware of the fact, that today is your birthday, yes? I could not plan anything big on such short notice, so have this instead.”

With a pounding heart, the mage pretty much pushed the parcel into Cillian’s hands, blabbering nervously while the man unpacked his present.

“It is nothing exceedingly impressive, I am afraid, but I figured under the given circumstances it would proof to be of better use to you, than a bouquet of flowers.”

Eyeing the other man nervously, when the small decorated tin layed unpacked in Cillian’s arms, he added: “It contains a specific poultice that soothes muscle ache. I’ve noticed recently, that your movements got a little stiff. So I figured you might be in need of a proper massage...”