Chapter Text
On their final day in Tal’dorei, Dorian sits down at a tattoo parlor Opal has deemed worthy of his artistic vision and money. For five hours, Orym holds Dorian’s hand as Braius’ design of Cyrus is inked forever onto his right shoulder blade. According to Dorian, the first thirty minutes are the most painful part and the rest is a breeze. But given how often he winces and squeezes Orym’s hand, that may just be him putting on a brave face.
Five hours is an awfully long time to sit around and wait, but it’s time Orym is more than willing to spend. Still, what better way is there to spend the time than by getting a tattoo of his own? Five hours isn’t nearly enough time to finish the sleeve Orym and the artist whip up together, but it’s long enough to complete the lineart and the first portion of shading. He leaves the shop with a return appointment, a new fiancé, and a new tattoo. A rising sun surrounded by wind-swept clouds.
Back in Zephrah, Orym is gently washing Dorian’s tattoo when he’s asked, “What if we got matching tats?”
“Already addicted to them, are you?”
“I’m not planning on Deni$e levels of tattoos, but…it was a fun experience. Kind of exhilarating. I could definitely see myself getting more, especially since you already have to go back for yours.”
Orym takes a damp cloth and wipes away the soap covering Cyrus’ face. “We could book in advance if you have an idea in mind. Or we could refer to Braius. Or that Jester lady, though…I’d prefer Braius.”
Dorian tilts his head back, a curtain of ombre hair falling over Orym’s damp hands. “Something that represents both of us, of course. I don’t want to copy your design one-for-one, though it is incredibly sweet.”
Orym’s face warms with a smile. “As my fiancé, you have permission to steal my design.”
“No, it should be something new. That’s yours, and this can be ours. Something like…?”
“The sending stones?”
Dorian shrugs. “Yeah, but we already carry those.”
“Hmm…” Orym brushes Dorian’s hair aside, his gaze lingering on where the raven black transitions to blue before soft white. “Well, there’s that flower. Back in Marquet when you were going toe-to-toe with that lady on her cello. I think…that was the first time I ever dared to show how much I actually cared about you. Giving a flower to your best buddy is pretty…suggestive.”
Dorian spins around in the tub to face him, a huge grin splitting his face. “That’s perfect. Gods, did I ever tell you how I tried to save that flower by pressing it in a book?”
“No. When was this?”
“The night after you crafted it for me. I…kinda lost the book. I don’t read that much, so I ‘borrowed’ one from the Spire by Fire and the owner made me give it back the next day. I didn’t get to take the flower out.”
Orym takes his head, then plants a soft kiss to Dorian’s forehead. “If the owner took it back, it’s probably still there.”
Dorian gasps. “Flower heist.”
“I don’t know if it really justifies a heist--”
“Flower heist.”
“Alright, you’ve been spending too much time with Ashton.” And yet he goes right on to encourage Dorian’s behavior with several more kisses to his forehead, cheek, lips, neck and lower, lower, lower…
As expected, Laudna is pissed.
There’s no avoiding the truth when everyone gets back together. With all the questions directed at their new tattoos and the meanings behind them, Orym slips up and refers to their matching flowers as a semi-engagement commemoration. Silence falls over Ligament Manor, followed by a snap as Laudna cranes her neck around unnaturally in his direction. A veil of darkness falls over her face, but before she can take on her form of dread, Fearne hoists Orym and Dorian into her arms and spins them around.
“MY BOYS ARE GETTING MARRIED! NANA, WE NEED MORE DRINKS!!!”
After both Orym and Dorian beg for Laudna’s forgiveness, she pushes the ring commission back another month but forgoes haunting them (for now). Nana Mori comes around with more drinks as requested, and the celebration falls into completely expected chaos. Imogen and Fearne get into a tipsy argument over who will be Orym’s maid of honor (Opal has already called dibs for Dorian’s party), Chetney holds a wood chisel to Dorian’s throat and gives him the shovel talk, Braius and Laudna plop themselves at the bar and begin sketching out wedding outfits for everyone, and a drunk Ashton accidently ignites his primordial shard when patting Orym congratulatory on the back. After everyone has a glass of water and Braius casts Lay on Hands on Orym, the night winds to a natural close.
Knowing it’ll get a hoot out of Fearne, Orym whispers into Dorian’s ear, “Carry me to bed?”
An impish grin spreads across his fiancé’s face. “Of course, dear.”
They retreat to their guest room with the hooting and hollering of their friends echoing throughout the Manor, Fearne’s voice by far the loudest. It’s the joyful end to a joyful day, and while the next day could bring hardship or sorrow, the sun will always rise and the winds will clear the sky.