Cenn_icon.gif Davan_icon.gif

Scene Title Still Alive
Synopsis A Mage and a Templar walk into a bar
Location Hanged Man, Lowtown
Date July 26, 2017
Watch For Flirting
Logger Davan

Davan dressed DOWN folks. Try not to pass out. Kirkwall in Summer may be hot to the residents, but to this Tevinter, it's quite the change. Days are warm, morning and evening cool. Night? He's wearing long sleeves over long sleeves. How does anyone manage to LIVE in this place without dying (Don't tell him that a huge portion of the population actually don't). So there it is. Late evening, early night, and this Magister's kid is zt a place called The Hanged Man. Someone PLEASE tell dad, the fit would be spectacular.

So, Cenn was going to come down here to look for Carys. That was his plan. Really, honestly, that was his plan. He's been on morning patrols lately, so his evenings have been more free. So, he's able to slip down for a drink here and there. In normal clothes, even! The clean, geometric lines that were familiar to Kirkwall fashion. Pale blues and creams, simple but not unflattering. As he turns the corner toward The Hanged Man and sees Davan, however, the Templar pauses, and blinks. "Lost again?" He calls with a small smirk.

Davan had been somewhere between 'make sure you don't run into a dagger' and 'thinking about all the things', but then there's a familiar voice and he grins. "Well well, the armor DOES come off. There's another myth gone under the weight of facts. Not lost this time. You give very good directions, as it happens. I had some business nearby- please don't faint- and thought I'd have a look around. Look what I've found! A man who smells of candy and knows how to dress. In this city."

"It does." Cenn quips with a smile, stepping closer even while he crosses his arms over his chest. Unlike Davan, the clothes he wears are a deceptively light fabric. They breathe easily, allowing him to feel the cooler night air. He's spent most of his life in Ferelden, Kirkwall was an oven to him. "I hear it looks better on the floor, anyway." Seems he's taken a liking to this one. Probably shouldn't take a liking to this one. The Knight Commander would have a fit if she knew, but, well, what Meredith didn't know… "If they're lacing lyrium into the candy in Tevinter, they might want to rethink that course of action."

"I imagine it looks better on some floors than on others." Davan chuckles. "Lyrium is the least of your worries if you take candy from a Tevinter. I thought all you Southerners knew that." He takes a moment of obvious appreciation for Cenn's outfit- or the man in it- and shakes his head. "Why aren't you absolutely freezing in that? If you have a fire rune hidden in there somewhere, I warn you. I'll find it."

"Somehow I think if I had more to worry about than that in candy from you, the Knight Commander wouldn't be allowing you to remain in the city." Cenn sends back, though the tone is all amusement. He raises a brow at the appraising, approving look, though paired with the still present smirk, he doesn't seem to mind at all. Even if that confidence doesn't quite stop the subtle blush that forms at his ears. "No, no," He says, laughing, and turning out his sleeves in a joking gesture as though it will prove there is no rune anywhere, "Just grew up in Ferelden. This city is like a clay oven to me."

"I may not be ready to summon demons and spend a night in blood magic, but there are more things to worry about. We're devious, I thought everyone knew that." Davan makes a show of looking suspicious before gesturing to the bar's door. "You poor, poor thing. All that rain and cold, it's a wonder anyone survives. Now, I do owe you for saving me from the fate of wondering the streets all night and for rescuing me from the threat of a boring evening. Buying you a drink here would be an insult to that debt, but I'm going to do it anyway. Then we'll discuss an actual repayment." And just to prove that he doesn't observe the need for a filter for what goes from brain to mouth? "How is it that a man like you has held on to the ability to blush at anything?"

"What sort of things are those? Please, do enlighten my trusting, Southern nature." Cenn says with a laugh, and then nods. "Well, I was planning on buying tonight, so I won't complain about the reprieve." And Cenn moves to the door, is about to open it even, when that next comment comes. He falters for just a moment, dumbstruck and blinking, that blush only growing worse. "A man like me? And what exactly sort of man is that, do you think?" He says, not looking back at Davan immediately. No, he just restarts his movement, pushing the door open, and holding it open for the other man.

"You really don't know?" Davan makes a show of putting a hand over his heart. "I've found a unicorn," he teases. "They let you have mirrors in those rooms of yours? You've passed a reflective surface, at the very least, yes?" And then it appears that something astounding has dawned on him. "Maker, you don't know? Please tell me that at least Carys has told you how handsome you are." He's subtle.

"Go to the Anderfels. I hear they're a menace there." Cenn quips in regards to unicorns. But then Davan is going on about reflective surfacs and then he sighs. At least the blush doesn't get much worse. "And my attractiveness would make me unable to blush because…?" He then asks, though he's still mostly sounding amused. Then, though, he's leading the way through the bar. Regular enough to not have a hassle (well, beyond the NECESSARY) crossing the room. Or claiming one of the smaller tables near the bar.

Davan laughs, and there's no affectation in this one. "Really? If you're not fending off the mages left and right, you're at least no stranger to other Templars trying to follow you to your door, yes?" He raises a hand. "Not that I'm accusing you. It's just that one tends to lose the ability after a while." He follows along to the table, willing to leave navigation up to Cenn. "…I'm going to trust you to tell me what one drinks here. So remember my life is in your hands." Yes, he's joking.

"We are permitted to have acquaintance with people outside of the Circle, and the Order." Cenn says with another laugh. Maybe Davan had been a little more dry, Cenn is not. Seems he's not bothered at all. "But, no, less than you might think." The sadness normally kept people at bay. But, well… It was easier to not have that sadness in the forefront of his mind when he was so… Distracted. Because, well, Davan was distracting, and as they've settled down at a table together, he's not really trying not to stare. Cenn has not gotten the impression that Davan's the sort to need him to put on that kind of pretense, so he won't. "Maker," He says, shaking his head, "I've just gotten used to the ale. I don't know if I'd recommend it, though. You do know you're in Lowtown, yes? Though… There's a servicable brandy they keep if you ask nicely."

"My dear man, never go to Tevinter. It would like putting blood in shark infested water. …less than I'd think? What do you do? Lay out traps on the way to your door?" Davan makes no attempt to hide his amusement any more than he does his appreciation of the man he's sitting with. "Really? Perhaps I was lost. This would be why I'm relying on you to keep us both alive. Magic can do many things, but it can't save you from a bad decision. Well, then. Let's see if we can convince them we're the sort that deserves the brandy. Then we can discuss an actual repayment of your saving me from wandering the streets of Lowtown the entire night. You know, before all of the excitement."

"Oh, trust me, I have no plans on ever setting foot in Tevinter." Cenn responds easily, "Sounds terribly itchy." All that magic? It would make a Templar's skin crawl, surely. He wasn't looking to have that kind of sensory overload. You know, nevermind the multitude of other reasons Cenn was never, ever, ever going to Tevinter. Not for love or money. "No traps. Just firm no's." And yet… Here he was. Flirting. Actually flirting. He hadn't done this so easily in years. But he was but a man, and… Well… Damn. When Cenn waves down a server, it actually isn't a difficult conversation. He'd been good for the coin just the other night with Carys, he was known to be good for the coin now. The brandy shall be fetched. That was painless. "What sort of repayment was it that you had in mind?" He asks then with a smirk, once the server has scurried off to fetch.

"Itchy?" For a moment, Davan looks confused, but then it dawns on him. "Ah, the lyrium. You can feel magic being cast?" Then he puts on a look of disappointment. "No traps? They just gave up. How terribly sad. Well, hopefully you won't say no to my offering you dinner when you're free. I have an Orlesian cook and he's forever complaining that I don't appreciate him." He gives a slow grin as he readies the coin to pay the server. "That was the repayment I thought you'd say yes to. I'll let you imagine what came to mind."

Nodding, the Templar shrugs a little. "Part of the training." He confirms easily. You know… With all manner of other things, but nevermind all that just now. Dinner. Huh. That was not what he had been expecting. "To be honest with you, I expected something more daring." He says with a gentle laugh, "But…" He pauses a little, looking Davan over once more, "I…" Just say the fucking words, Cenn… Just say them. He would but suddenly the weight of a certain piece of ironbark against his chest is heavy. And for a moment, there are a million things that could happen. In some world, a man who is a right sight more debonair than he is makes a well timed, witty comment. A man who is a good measure more emotionally stable than him accepts that invitation gracefully. A man with an unbroken heart is flattered and blushes and smiles. And though all of those men share his face, in this flash of worlds-that-could-be, none of them are the Cenn of the world-that-is. And thus, it is that the next actions he takes occur.

"Actually, you know, come to think of it… That is… Probably not the best idea and… You know… Would you look at the time." Nevermind that they just sat down. Nevermind that there certainly no hour candles in The Hanged Man. "The brandy's on me, for the trouble." And Cenn's leaving coin on the table and he's standing. This was a stupid idea.

Davan stands to reach for the Templar's arm. "Cenn." The coin is picked up to try to place it in Cenn's hand. "It's alright. I'm really not the horrible Tevinter mage out to get you. Whatever it is… The offer is genuine. To prove it, bring Carys. Princess adored her, she'd be overjoyed to see her again." He sighs and gestures toward the door. "I'll at least walk you out, but just so we have no misunderstandings. I did think something a little more daring, but I thought that the moment I saw you in that horrible neighborhood."

"Oh, Maker…" Cenn says, shaking his head, "That's not…" He sighs, placing the coin back down. If not to pay for the brandy, then as a tip. "I am sorry, that is not what I meant. It's not… It's not you." How cliche could you get, Cenn? Come on, man. "And I know people say that all the time and it's trite and dry but it really isn't you." Look, he's not even recoiled from that touch to his arm. "You're… Well… Let's say I had plenty of daring thoughts of my own. But I really… I just shouldn't. Not dinner, not this, not daring thoughts or letting you make me blush… I just shouldn't." And with that, he's trying to extricate himself. Gently, mind, he's not running, and he's not offended or afraid, but he can't stay here. If Davan follows towards the door? Well, he certainly can't stop him.

"Of course it's not me," Davan remarks, but not in that sniping tone the words should come in. "Just trust me, I know. Not the details, but I know. Which means we both need air that isn't in here." So yes, he's going to walk to the door with him and fuck whatever coin they've left on the table- have fun, Lowtowners!- because really. "But you should let someone." Which is all he's saying because door.

Cenn's demeanor changes drastically when they step outside. His brow knits, and he looks over Davan with something between affront and awe. It's a cacophony of things that he's feeling and none of them lend themselves well to words. So he just blinks for a moment. And then there's a memory that comes to him. A memory of just the other night. Of being in that same bar, at a table very near that one. Of laughing about fabric and giving advice. And he sighs, but this time it is the sigh of someone who knows they ought to know better. "You're right and I am being a fool." He says, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Would you be indulgent enough to allow me to answer that invitation more appropriately, Messere?" And his hand falls away from his face and he's trying for a smile. He mostly manages it, save for the glimmer of being ashamed of himself that adds an apologetic softness.

Davan shakes his head. "It would be far too ironic for me to call anyone a fool. …but I suppose as long as you never call me that again…" And then there's that look and even this mage can't really keep up a front when faced with that. "Maker, don't look like that. I'm a bad man with very little willpower." At least he's nearly smiling again.

And somehow none of that makes Cenn shy away even a little. In fact, he's smiling more warmly again. Even laughing, though it is a subdued thing. "Very well, I will never call you that again. I promise." He says, hand over his heart in some sort of exaggerated gesture of oath, "However, dinner sounds like a delight." Because it did even if his stupid self had tried running from it. "And she may be my - " Well that had happened quick, "Best friend but I have no mind to have Carys there. If it's all the same to you, Serah. Is Serah acceptable?" He's smirking now, though. Because, really, if he sat there and was rational… Rylan wouldn't want him to lock himself away forever. It had been a year. It was time to start trying again. He could hear the chide, in the back of his mind. The scolding about wasted time and beauty and living and wonder and breath and how to make each and every one of them count and how mourning the fact that he wasn't breathing anymore just meant that neither of them were.

Davan laughs. "Fine, fine, it will do. At least until I can get you to say my name," he adds. "I'm afraid I'm still going to be horribly without manners. You should hear someone say your name, I think. …and I admit that having you all to myself had been my hope, even as much as I adore your friend. When are you free? Or should I send an invitation to you?" His posture is at least more relaxed now, as if whatever he'd been thinking of before had completely evaporated.

"Well, you say something like that and you just invite something of a game of it…" Cenn says, an edge to his tone that is leaning toward indecency. But even with it, the Templar is blushing again. Even looking away just a little, just enough to still be an invitation. "Better to send the invitation on your schedule, I can generally move my patrols around if I know I have need to." More like can tell one of his Corporals to do it. Not a trick he uses often, but he would, damnit. It seems whatever that other thing was, Cenn isn't going to question. Just as he's not going to offer details about what had fueled his own foolishness.

Davan smirks. "Oh? You know, I think I can win that game." And then there's that blush and he makes a show of defeat. "I should… You make it difficult for me to not try to convince you to come with me. I'll send an invitation." It takes him a moment to step away, though he finally manages. "I should let you get back. I'll see you soon." He turns to take the steps that lead back up, heading for home without much hurry.

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