epidemiology | [open] He say me have to

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[open] He say me have to

CHARACTERS: Meallan and Whoever wants in
DATE: First week of Perdition's Rest
WARNINGS: Shirtless elf??
SUMMARY: Meallan got a new left arm thanks to Laedo and has decided he needs to test it out and maybe fill a bounty at the same time.

It's a little strange to Meallan to be paid to do very little, though he'd been assured that all he really needed to do was look good and stand around. He'd tried to help out a bit with the farm work as well, mostly because it felt strange to be paid to do this without doing at least some work, but he's never worked on a farm in his life and the horses here... didn't really need the same care as actual beasts.

So he'd given up and moved outside to where he could be seen more easily and decided that, well, if he's being paid to look good he may as well put some work into it. Besides, he needed to work with his new arm anyway. While Laedo had tested it thoroughly, Meallan himself was still getting used to it and a little training would likely help with that.

Staff in hand, he moved outside and stripped off his shirt, flexing the new, golden left arm and watching how the light caught it for a moment. Then the staff was passed to that hand and Meallan started to go through a series of training exercises, starting slow but building up speed and intensity until a sheen of sweat almost glints like the gold as it catches the light. He's focused enough that Meallan doesn't realise he has an audience until he turns and catches sight of them out of the corner of his eye, he pulls a strike up short then and stops, flushed from the heat and exertion and feeling a little like he's been caught showing off. Which he supposes is the point of being out here but that doesn't make him feel much better.

Coughing awkwardly, he sets the end of the staff back on the ground and gives the new arrival an uncertain smile. "Sorry, I didn't see you there. Was there something you wanted me for?"

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"Was sort of hopin' we'd get that drink in at some point," Twisted Fate says, smiling as he does, his eyes shadowed faintly by his hat. "But it's lookin' like you're a little busy, Meallan."

Hardly bothered, the thief approaches, glancing over the elf with some curiosity and, admittedly, with certain admiration. He has already considered Meallan to be attractive, but he definitely likes what he sees here as well.

That, and one other thing of note.

"Arm looks new. Enchanted?"

It's not that he's been avoiding Mel -- not even close. Just, after coming back to himself after an apparent week as his older self, and then reading the long letter left to him by that future self, Evan had looked to avoid most of everyone for a few days. And then that had turned into getting busy packing up, and then Perdition's Rest itself, and his days had been packed.

Hearing what had happened to the elf during that week of time displacement had been a shock, and a further shock that it had somehow been a week and then some before he had even caught wind of it. Serene and Mel had both been closed-lipped to the point that he hadn't realized anything was wrong, until Serene had come to him for advice. At that point he'd resolved to keep an eye out for the elf, to at least find him and check to see that he was recovered, that he was alright.

But it had been hearing through the grapevine something about Mel having his arm back that was the final straw. He'd picked himself up, then, and gone to find the other man.

And now he was being caught staring. In awe, certainly, but more than just that -- he had never known Mel with both of his hands, and so the sight was a strange one, the elf's proficiency hypnotic and his physique so, so sculpted that a particular delight had begun to bubble behind Evan's sternum. He's stopped on the other side of the fence at this edge of the farm, and when Mel stops and so self-consciously asks that question, it jolts him back to himself.

He trots up to the fence proper, grinning, practically beaming. That effervescence bubbles over. "You did! You got it back! Mel, congratulations!"

"I do owe you a drink, don't I?" he answers with a laugh. "Well after I'm done here I could probably do with one, if you'd like? I'd offer to go now, but apparently I'm working. ...somehow."

Previously the attention to his arm would have gotten more of a flinch from him, the subject a bit of a sore one, but now Meallan switches his staff to his right hand and holds the new left one out for inspection. Closer to it has faint threads of purple through it in places, and a green line darkens the palm. Where it joins to his own flesh shows signs of old scars, but otherwise they connect smoothly.

"Not enchanted itself, but it is magically made. A good friend put a lot of work into it for me." He gives Twisted Fate another smile, wide enough to show the gap between his front teeth. "I figured since I apparently only need to stand around here and try to look good, it wouldn't hurt to give it a work out as well. Having both arms again is going to take a little getting used to."

Seeing Evan's face has Meallan brightening immediately, and as the younger man approaches his eyes quickly rove over Evan's face to look for signs of difference, the older look in his eyes, and he notes it's gone now. It's to be expected, but he's still not entirely certain what to think of it, so he puts it aside for now and focuses instead on Evan himself.

"I didn't exactly do much," he points out with a laugh. "Laedo did everything, and I owe him a great deal for it. It took a lot out of him as well."

Leaning his staff against the fence, Meallan extends the golden arm for inspection. Closer up, Evan might make out little threads of purple through it like veins, and a green mark across the palm.

"It moves and feels like my own," Meallan murmurs, still caught in the wonder of that feat of magic. "Even training, I wouldn't be able to tell the difference if I hadn't been so used to being without it."

"I'm a patient man, so long as you don't if I watch you work, Meallan."

The reaction is subtle, but he can see the difference in the elf's demeanor. Perhaps too straight-forward, in retrospect; one doesn't simply lose his arm without some sort of trauma involved.

He keeps his smile, returning it in favor. "That's quite a gift to be given. Your friend must care a great deal to you." He holds out his hand palm up toward him.

"May I see it? If it doesn't bother you."

Evan falls to examining the prosthetic with ravenous enthusiasm. He makes an impressed noise as he takes in the exquisite attention to detail. Aside from being golden, it's completely convincing. Without thinking much about it he's compelled to touch the warm skin there, to briefly run fingers along some of the purple lines near the wrist, and then to nudge so that he turns his arm over for Evan's examination,

He glances up at Mel, finding the mark on the palm, and flashes a grin. He draws his hand back from Mel's and touches his own face, pushes his hair back on the side with the Laedo-granted eye. "Odd, isn't it? Even on my world we haven't mastered this kind of flawless prosthetic."

He looks down again, curious. "Did you get to choose what it looked like? What's the green? Or for that matter the purple?"

"Of course not," Meallan answers immediately, welcoming the company. "Actually I'm not even working that much, so I can't see them complaining that I'm talking with someone."

His smile softens a bit at the memory of what Laedo had done for him and the tax it had taken on the askan. "I'm glad to have him as a friend, and not simply because of this. He's a good man and one I'm happy to have met."

He immediately closes the distance at the request, setting his hand in Twisted Fate's at once. "Of course you can. It doesn't bother me to have it looked at."

He likes it much better and finds it easier to handle than the stares the empty sleeve had gotten.

As Evan examines the arm, Meallan watches him, his gaze tracing the curiosity and eagerness in the other man's face, and a faint shiver slides down his back at the gentle touch of Evan's fingers against the strange new skin.

"Laedo offered to make it look like my own skin but I didn't want that," he murmurs. "I wanted to remember what had happened, everything it meant to me, so I asked him to leave it like this and put the mark on the palm."

He gives a quiet laugh that's more grim than amused. "The Anchor was green, and the reason for everything that has happened in my life the past three or so years before coming here. In the end it was why I lost most of my arm as well but I want to remember it. For the good and the bad."

"An' what exactly is your workin' task, anyhow? Wanderin' around and catching somebody's eye?" he asks, part way in teasing and certainly flirting, as he does.

There's a pause of consideration, his head tilting as he feels the hand rest in his own. The enchantment is not one he's familiar with, but then, the magic is far different than his own. Interpreting it would not be his strong suit, as it were.

Still, he gives Meallan's hand a gentle squeeze and says, "A friend that gives that much is one to hold onto as tight as you can. Figure you probably know that, though. Glad you got one."

Evan swaps from looking at the arm again to looking at Mel's face as the other man talks. There's curiosity in his gaze, but he considers and then finally nods at Mel's words. "That makes sense, I mean... even a perfect prosthetic wouldn't've gotten rid of the fact that it happened at all." That's something he's had to come to terms with himself, recently; he'd been so relieved to get his eye back, but it hadn't washed losing the eye from his mind. Other, less tangible marks had lingered. How much more potent would those be, having lost a <>hand, having lost it for so long?

The fence still stands between them, for Evan hasn't come onto the farmer's property. He's not here to fulfill the bounty, after all. It means he can't go in for the hug -- a habit he's been picking up well enough -- so he leans on one of the fenceposts instead. For all that Mel seems a little somber, Evan is having trouble tamping down a bright grin again. "I'm sorry I didn't come to congratulate you sooner. I only just heard."

"Just standing here and looking attractive, apparently." He says it with a shrug, and the slight flush is probably more obvious now he's started to cool down from the exertion more. Meallan isn't going to argue that he can do that, but it does feel a bit foolish. "I'm not sure why, but if I do it for a little longer I'll get some coin for it."

He smiles as Twisted Fate considers his hand, and it only widens at the words. "I plan to, but not because of this or anything else. I'd just like to keep him as a friend, no matter what may come."

He squeezes the other man's hand back. "And the same for you. I know you talk about not caring or just wanting to waste time and that's why you did what you did in the train, but I still don't believe it's only that."

Meallan flexes his hand absently once Evan's released it and gives the younger man a crooked smile.

"And it shouldn't get rid of it either, don't you think?" His gaze flicks to Evan's eye as well, though he doesn't mention it outright. While he'd prefer to remember, it's possible that Evan doesn't want to as much.

"It wasn't that long ago, and you really don't need to congratulate me," he insists. "I didn't do anything."

He gets the feeling they probably won't agree on that entirely though, so Meallan shifts the topic elsewhere. "But why have you been missing lately? Is everything all right?"

"Convenient little job. You seem to be excelling at it," Twisted Fate remarks, grinning broadly. "I wouldn't question it too hard. Seems like easy enough pay, at least. Don't let me get in the way, hm?"

Ah, friends. Twisted Fate finally releases his hand. "That's a good attitude," he says carefully.

Right, that business. An easygoing shrug is delivered in return as he says smoothly, "Don't reckon it's worth thinkin' hard on, but you buy me a drink and we can have a chat about that." Not that he has any expectations for a follow up, but a drink he doesn't have to buy is easily enjoyed. "'Course, wouldn't mind getting to know you better anyway."

It may be taking a while, but Evan is beginning to get wise to some of the ways Meallan quietly avoids talking about himself. Particularly now, after finding out he's missed such important events, Evan is watchful for that deflection. He gives the elf a speculative look.

"I'm fine, I've just had my head down. I was a bit rattled after that, that time-displacement week." What else to call it? This is a little bit of a test, too, knowing Mel must have been that much more rattled. "And it's been a whirlwind here since we landed.

"Anyways," he presses back to what he'd been saying before, not quite willing to let Meallan completely divert, "whether or not you did anything to get it back isn't the point, it's just exciting that you have it again. I mean, unless it was as much fun as getting this eye in," he's able to make light months after the fact, "then I certainly count that as having done something. In any case, worth congratulations." He grins back at that gap-toothed smile.

The grin is matched immediately and Meallan pauses to give Twisted Fate a appraising look. "If you ask me, you're hardly going to detract from the job, Fate. Maybe make it more successful or be competition but definitely not detract."

He notes again the curious way the other man withdraws at the idea he be something other than purely out for himself, and wonders why that's such a difficult topic, why he argues against it so much.

All the more reason to offer him that drink and see what Meallan might be able to get from him, he supposes. His lips quirk into a smile again at the mention of that plan and what he's starting to realise as flirting, although he's still uncertain how earnest it really is.

"You can ask me anything you like," he offers with a wink. "I can promise I've probably heard your first question before. It's about the ears or the tattoo, isn't it?"

"It was disconcerting," Meallan agrees, choosing his words with as much care as he would footsteps around a trapped room. "I imagine everyone was thrown off to some extent by what happened."

He's more guarded now, likely obviously so, but it's a difficult topic that he doesn't wish to dwell on any more than the arm, which Evan doesn't seem as willing to drop as Meallan had hoped. It is at least the easier topic now, and he manages a dry laugh at the matter.

"Well in all fairness I don't know what it was like for you to get your eye back. But with mine it seemed like it took a lot more out of Laedo than me. I was more concerned about everything he'd put into it and if he'd pushed himself too far."

That earns a small tip of his hat, and a smile. "Those are some mighty kind words, friend. Might be tempted to join you; company's not so bad, either."

Anything, he says. The thief rubs his chin for a moment, absently scratching as his well groomed beard before he looks over Meallan curiously.

"Tattoos, maybe. Ears, little less so. I'm a little more curious about this Inquisitor rank of yours, if y'have anything you wanted to say about that."

And for all that, Evan doesn't have the fortitude to really push, nor the wisdom of his older self to know when he really should. Mel's on the defensive, or at least watching Evan carefully, and the younger man picks up on that discomfort himself. He shrugs, sympathetic. "Laedo's the sort who prefers doing things the right way rather than the easy way, I think."

He watches Mel, examining the elf, not quite at ease anymore. Aside from the strange mood of the conversation, he looks well, doesn't he?

"What was that you were practicing?" he asks, impulsively. He's curious, true enough, but more than that the pressure to divert the conversation finally gets to him.

"The company seems good from my side as well," he returns immediately, grinning and leaning on his staff more. "Plus I'd prefer conversation over standing around."

And of course Twisted Fate manages to come up with a question he hasn't gotten much before, though in fairness few know about the Inquisition here. There isn't much point in mentioning it in Meallan's mind.

"I mostly mentioned it last time because it just struck me as amusing that you used that word," he says with a shrug. "There isn't an Inquisition here, so I know it doesn't mean much and I don't expect special treatment for it. I didn't really expect it in my own world either, but the Inquisition came to mean a great deal to a lot of people."

Straightening up, Meallan swings the staff again absently. "It was created to stop someone who meant to destroy our world in a quest to become a god. Fortunately we eventually did manage that task, though it wasn't easy."

Meallan glances at the staff and relaxes more visibly, giving Evan a small, grateful smile that he let the topic go and didn't push much about the effect the bugs had on them both.

"Just trying to work on fighting with my staff. I haven't had both arms for a little while now, so I'm a little concerned about falling out of practise." He passes the weapon back and forth between his hands rapidly, letting it rock on its base.

"I've gotten used to fighting from a distance, but that can be dangerous to get used to. So since I just have to be out here and 'looking good', I thought practising wouldn't hurt."

Evan cracks a grin, and if there's still a vibration of uncertainty behind it, he does what he can to cover it up. "You know, I'd say it adds to the effect," he tells Mel, sincere and unthinking. "There's nothing like watching someone at something they're really good at."

Now that's familiar and easier territory for him. Meallan leans the staff against the fence and presses his hands against it as well, leaning in close enough that he can feel the warmth of Evan's skin colouring the air between them.

"Oh? Is that so, Evan?" His voice is a low, teasing murmur, though there's something more serious about how he watches the other man's face.

"Are you saying you enjoy watching me?"

With a roll of his shoulders, he removes his coat, getting himself a little more comfortable. He figures he might as well; seems like he'll be here for awhile, and he is a little curious to better know Meallan. Most people tend to share easily enough.

"So, by the sounds of it, your Inquisition was pretty damned important. And with you as Inquisitor, that means you were leadin' the whole thing?" Twisted Fate chuckles. "Damn, we really do got a bunch of big damned heroes around here, don't we?"

He pauses, then gently brushes his fingers over Meallan's new arm. "That why you're missing this? Or is it somethin' else?"

He watches Twisted Fate's fingers against his arm, momentarily caught up in the fact that he could feel the touch as though he'd never lost the arm at all. It's still wonderful and exciting enough that his mood feels like it can't be broken, even with the topic the other man asks after.

"It was more that I was in the right place at the wrong time, or something like that," he says with a wry laugh. "It ended up binding some magic to my hand and that was what the Inquisition needed to help fight the one responsible for it. I wouldn't have managed as well as I did without the support of everyone else who helped make the Inquisition work, and who helped me learn how to do what might be necessary in leading."

He turns his left hand over to consider the line of green he'd asked Laedo to put in the palm.

"The magic wasn't stable though. After a few years it started to... flare up again. It was losing the arm or my life. But I don't want to forget any of it either, which is why I keep the mark now. For better or worse, it changed everything."

When the hand turns over to reveal the palm, Twisted Fate invites himself to continue to explore, his thumb gently tracing over the green. As he listens, Twisted Fate processes the information with a distant look on his face, then tips his head down slightly.

"Most men would want to put it behind them, especially such a loss. Suppose that says a lot about you, keepin' the mark as you have."

There is no judgment on his face, not when the glow of Twisted Fate's eyes increase faintly as he studies the arm.

"But sure. Tell me about your tattoos an' ears now," he says wryly, as if to lighten the mood.

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[open] He say me have to

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