Meallan Lavellan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
strikingtwice) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
epidemiology2016-11-05 09:26 am
strikingtwice) wrote in epidemiology2016-11-05 09:26 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
CHARACTERS: Meallan and Open
DATE: 4/11
WARNINGS: None currently
SUMMARY: Elf drinking his sorrows instead of dealing plus optional card game
It's been over a month, and he's barely seen Evan at all. Meallan had been trying not to pay attention to how long it had been, but his mind is all too happy to keep track of exactly how much time had passed since he'd made the mistake of being far too forward and Evan had… left.
He had hoped that a few days would be all that the younger man would need at that at least then they could be friends again but it seemed a naive hope and now… now he's aware of exactly how much so. Now he'd just be happy to hear that Evan didn't hate him, but he doesn't know if messaging the younger man to ask if that were the case would seem like pressuring him for an answer that Evan mightn't be willing to give.
So, lost for what else to do, Meallan had put some thought into what some of his friends in the Inquisition might have advised if he were here, and… well the majority would have agreed some drinks were in order. Dorian would likely have suggested more than just a few and Meallan, feeling a bit reckless, hurt, and still aching from his own encounter with Koltira and the wounds that were slowly healing, decided that sounded like a good plan. It's perhaps fortunate then that he doesn't drink much normally, since then the coin he has remaining can get enough that he's feeling warm and flushed within no time, and after spending a lot of time staring broodily at his magitek and wondering if he should say anything, Meallan ends up turning it on to make a quick request to the rest of the team in general instead.
Then he signals the barkeep for another bottle of something potent and takes a decent swig of that as well before setting his glass down again. It occurs to him that he doesn't much care if his request goes answered or not, that whatever happens, he'll likely get good and drunk before the day's done. But if anyone does approach, he doesn't turn them away either, looking up at them and giving a lop-sided grin and a nod towards the deck of cards he's been absently shuffling.
"Interested in a game?"
DATE: 4/11
WARNINGS: None currently
SUMMARY: Elf drinking his sorrows instead of dealing plus optional card game
It's been over a month, and he's barely seen Evan at all. Meallan had been trying not to pay attention to how long it had been, but his mind is all too happy to keep track of exactly how much time had passed since he'd made the mistake of being far too forward and Evan had… left.
He had hoped that a few days would be all that the younger man would need at that at least then they could be friends again but it seemed a naive hope and now… now he's aware of exactly how much so. Now he'd just be happy to hear that Evan didn't hate him, but he doesn't know if messaging the younger man to ask if that were the case would seem like pressuring him for an answer that Evan mightn't be willing to give.
So, lost for what else to do, Meallan had put some thought into what some of his friends in the Inquisition might have advised if he were here, and… well the majority would have agreed some drinks were in order. Dorian would likely have suggested more than just a few and Meallan, feeling a bit reckless, hurt, and still aching from his own encounter with Koltira and the wounds that were slowly healing, decided that sounded like a good plan. It's perhaps fortunate then that he doesn't drink much normally, since then the coin he has remaining can get enough that he's feeling warm and flushed within no time, and after spending a lot of time staring broodily at his magitek and wondering if he should say anything, Meallan ends up turning it on to make a quick request to the rest of the team in general instead.
Then he signals the barkeep for another bottle of something potent and takes a decent swig of that as well before setting his glass down again. It occurs to him that he doesn't much care if his request goes answered or not, that whatever happens, he'll likely get good and drunk before the day's done. But if anyone does approach, he doesn't turn them away either, looking up at them and giving a lop-sided grin and a nod towards the deck of cards he's been absently shuffling.
"Interested in a game?"