Words: 1006 Fandom:Pillars of Eternity Rating: Gen Relationships: Aloth Corfiser/The Watcher Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Developing Relationship, Confessions, Canon Universe, Pillars Prompts Weekly, Prompt Fill, Some Humor Summary:
They’ve left Defiance Bay behind them, and now Aloth has something to say, again. Because sometimes when you break big news, you need to check in on it again a little bit afterwards to make sure you’re not about to get murdered.
Alternately: Two people who fancy each other at least a little bit have an earnest conversation in a pub.
Prompt: Aloth, a tavern, risk
“Demetria, a word?” Aloth looked nervous as he jerked his head in a let’s not talk about this in front of everyone gesture. But then, Aloth almost always looked nervous. Demetria had come to accept that his face just did that, most of the time.
She obliged, moving away with him to a more secluded end of the bar where they could ostensibly be waiting for their drink orders. Behind them, Hiravias had just settled into the armchair Demetria had just vacated and started trying to talk his way out of having to pay for the next round. They would have their privacy for some time, and their voices wouldn’t carry far over the bawdy tavern songs cheerfully rendered by a dwarven singer.
“It’s about what I told you, when we were coming out of Defiance Bay.” Aloth took a sharp breath in. A slow breath out.
Love how Flynn and Sora are both just chilling here with slighty bored/impatient expressions as Rapunzel’s swinging around, credit to @angel-with-a-pipette for pointing this out!
Just a short and completely self-indulgent Aloth x Ariela thing, set sometime not too long after their reunion in Deadfire.
He’d worried that it might be awkward, travelling with her again. It had been so long, after all, and they were halfway across the world from the place where they’d first met. So much was sure to have changed. And for all he knew that she had only been teasing him when she’d scolded him for not staying in touch during their years apart, he couldn’t help but worry that there’d been something besides humour in Ariela’s eyes during their reunion. Hurt, perhaps, that he’d left her? Or disappointment that he’d never returned? …Either way, it had left him feeling complicated.
Because despite all of his worrying and over-thinking, it felt nice to be around her again. It felt comfortable. Natural. Like they’d never been parted. With her sitting at the end of his bunk, quietly reading through a novel, he felt more relaxed than he had in years. Like he could just be himself for the first time in forever.But therein lay another problem. If she-
Fye, a dinnae conne how the lass puts up with yer ninnying!
I normally don’t enter these things unless I’ve already got at least a third of them already written. This time, I have half of tomorrow’s idea and that’s all. We’ll see if I manage to keep it up… (it’s doubtful, friends)
Bilbo hummed, in a manner intended to be both appreciative and noncommittal. He lay half reclined against soft, shaggy goatskins and tapestry pillows, with his abandoned book still open on the nightstand beside him. If he lolled his head back just right and squinted, he could even still read it.
“Bilbo, my love,” said Thorin.
Bilbo hummed again. He had just reached an interesting bit of analysis on the different implications between talas and tallunë in Quenya.
“Bilbo.”
This time he looked up. His feet lay in his husband’s lap, and it appeared Thorin was jabbing his thumb repeatedly into the arch of one foot, a distinctly quizzical look on his face. If Bilbo concentrated, he could just about feel it.
“Ah,” said Bilbo guiltily. Thorin regarded the foot with something like wonder, and jabbed it again.
“Yes, yes all right,” said Bilbo, sitting up and squirming back on the heavy silk bedspread until he was out of reach. “Point made, thank you, yes. Look, you – you said it would be romantic. I felt it would be churlish to refuse. Thorin, I can’t help it if I don’t have delicate Dwarf toes.”
“Delicate,” repeated Thorin. He sat at the end of their enormous royal bed in his night-clothes, his long hair tied back for sleep, and looked rather crestfallen.
Bilbo frowned, twitching his nose in thought. “Tell you what,” he suggested. “I’ll admit, this foot massage business doesn’t do anything for me, but if it’s a thing for you Dwarves, well then, why don’t I have a go at doing it for you? Hmm?”
At the mere suggestion his husband brightened instantly. A blush suffused his skin like the breaking of a Spring dawn, and suddenly the whole ridiculous pantomime made sense at last.
“You great fool,” said Bilbo fondly, lifting one of Thorin’s dear, soft little feet up onto the bed. “You could have just asked.”
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