✿ THE HOUSE ✿
Adra's house is a cozy stone cottage on the outskirts of Caissa, close enough to the sea that one can hear the breaking waves throughout the day.
This afternoon, there's light, cool rain falling intermittently, tapping in a rhythm at the windows and roof. Fortunately, the kitchen is warm, bright, and welcoming. Its counters and tables are covered with freshly prepared foods of all kinds, and there are plenty of chairs for visitors who might like to sit and relax.
A door from the kitchen leads out into the garden, which is not quite yet fully landscaped, but which boasts a promising array of flowers (orchids, roses, lilies, tulips, etc) and herbs. Adra's also cultivating strawberries, tomatoes, lettuce, and so on; the strawberries and cherries in particular are ripe for picking. Adra has strung enchanted, floating fairy lights all over the garden; they cast a soft, ethereal glow over the paths and carefully tended patches of greenery. At the garden's center, there's a clear pond filled with red and pink lotus blossoms.
Back inside, a visitor might like to rest in the den. There's a roaring fire in the hearth, and sitting near it for a short while offers a boost to the weary spirit. Soft, plush chairs and couches fill this room, making it ideal for lounging. The tables are covered with books borrowed somewhat indiscreetly from the library; they deal largely with the magic and history of Enprise.
Adjacent to the den is Adra's study. In here are half-empty bookshelves and antique rolling desk covered with neat stacks of papers, boxes of quills, and numerous pots of ink, each one in different, brilliant colors. His journal is somewhere here, too ...
Finally, down the hall one will find a half bathroom and, across from that, the door to the second bedroom--belonging to one Gilgamesh. The master bedroom, belonging to Adrasteius, is at the end of the hall. There's a full bath in there, but this room is definitively locked.
✿ THE SPREAD ✿
As usual, Adra's gone over the top in his preparations. For drinks, there's a sweet, refreshing punch; delicately pink and decorated with sprigs of flowers. There are pitchers of sparkling ice water, jugs of wine and spiced mead, and plenty of glasses to share.
Though Adra does not eat meat himself, he prepares it ably; there's a honey-glazed, roasted turkey in the center of the table, right beside a carving board heavy with seasoned, hand-carved slices of fresh beef. Red potatoes, bright with paprika and salt and glistening with pats of melting butter, are arranged in wedges around the turkey. There are woven baskets of steaming rolls, flaky and soft; platters of carrots and broccoli and asparagus; enormous bowls of belly-warming soup filled with thick wheat noodles, sliced egg, and shredded cabbage. At one end of the table, there's a plate of burgers, along with small dishes to fix them--bacon, crispy onions, sauteed mushrooms, and all the necessary condiments. He has plates of savory pies, filled with beef or pork or chicken; steamed and fried dumplings stuffed with meat and spring vegetables, plump and perfectly shaped.
The desserts are similarly extravagant: he has a plate of meticulously crafted flower and fruit cakes; some look like ripe, blushing peaches, others, he shaped into red orchids, lotus blossoms, or golden roses. He's made a chocolate tart so dark that its smooth, sugar-dusted surface shimmers reflectively in the overhead light. Cupcakes of all kinds are scattered here and there, as well as an extravagant, multi-tiered confection dripping with fudge sauce, encrusted with sliced strawberries and vibrantly colorful, fondant flower petals. There are loaves of warm banana bread; fruit tarts glittery with rainbow sugar crystals; and, under glass, an assortment of flavorful macarons baked to look like something plucked right from the starry sky.
But the most important thing about Adra's lavish banquet is this: all of the food is enchanted, laced with magic meant to inspire feelings of comfort and security. Eating it may conjure up familiar, welcome sensations or memories--nothing sorrowful or painful, and only as specific as you'd like. It could be something as simple as the feeling of a fuzzy blanket on a cold day, or as complex as a particular soothing memory. In all cases, the intended effect is meant to inspire calm and ease.
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[ Bolin's in the study, and things are Not Going As Planned. That's especially saying something considering that Bolin doesn't even remember what the plan had been. He's more than a little tipsy, and can remember if he had been looking for the bathroom or the kitchen or the garden. He'd been looking for something when the quiet room had siren called to him. Mostly, he'd just been examining the bookshelves, eyes wide and curious.
Everything had been going well until he'd bumped into the chair while stepping back. It gets him off balance enough to send both him and the chair tipping over; Bolin falling with a yelp, and stupidly throwing a hand toward the desk in an attempt to gain some balance.
Suffice to say, he failed: papers and ink spill, leaving a slightly bruised Bolin to stare miserably at the mess. ]
I need to clean this before Adra sees. [ Muttered to himself as he tries to gather some of the ink smeared papers, his own hand staining at the contact.
The guilt is real however, because Adra has enough work with everything else, and he doesn't need Bolin adding to it. ]
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Adra stands in the threshold to the study, dumbfounded, one hand on his chest. Goodness gracious, his expression seems to say. ]
Bolin? What--what are you doing?
[ So much ink ... it takes days to mix. ]
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He's going to get kicked out of the house. Adra's going to think that he moved out to escape messes of this sort, and Bolin will just be banned. (Though he feels worse for staining the paper, he has no idea that the ink is so valuable as well.) ]
Adra! [ Whoops, volume control. He quickly scrambles to a standing position from where he'd been crouched. ] I'm so sorry! I was looking at the books and then... I fell, and things fell...
[ He draws in, as though he's already been chastised. ]
I'll clean it!
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It's fine, Bolin.
[ He reaches up to touch Bolin's shoulder, gently. ]
I know you didn't mean it.
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He generally is remorseful, and doesn't want to cause the other man any stress. Confident after he feels Adra's hand on his shoulder, the earthbender quickly shakes his head and carefully puts both his hands on the elf's back, urging him back out. ]
Hey, don't worry. I'll clean this up as good as new, so just have fun!
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No, it's my study. I know where everything goes. Just let me help you.
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Okay! You just sit here and tell me what to do. [ He can work with this compromise. ] I'll get everything back in no time! You've got me.
[ It's not too difficult to figure out. Bolin hadn't tipped over any of the bookshelves, just displaced some of the contents that had been on the desk. ]
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Oh, well. Objects are objects, made to be let go. ]
The papers are ruined, so just go ahead and throw those away.
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[ Well, that makes sense. And he kneels but the papers, grabbing the ones that really can't be salvaged folding them into a trash pile. He grabs the ones that have made it out of the encounter alive, and shuffles them into a pile, his stained fingers leaving slight finger prints from having touched the stained papers again, but the ink dries quickly over his skin.
He'd already righted the pot that had fallen, and picks it up carefully, not wanting to set it down in case there was still wet ink on it, rubbing the pot with his palm instead. ]
Next?
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Set the bottles in a line, just there.
[ He gestures to the front of the desk, where a few other ink pots are still sitting. ]
Leave the stains--I can clean those later.
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Mess thusly out of the way, he shuffles over on his knees to sit cross-legged on the floor by Adra's legs, peering up at the other man, and wondering if he'd really ruined the party for his friend. ]
I'm sorry. [ He says again, reaching out to carefully rest his fingers against Adra's knee. ] You seem tired.
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So he smiles wanly at Bolin as he covers the other man's hand with his own. ]
It's just been a long day. Not your fault.
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Yeah! I've seen everything around here—with moving, and the house and the garden, and then setting up all of the stuff for this party, no wonder you're tired. [ Not to mention their actual jobs of constant danger and risk of death. ] You should take it easy sometimes, you know?
[ Struck with a brilliant idea, he places his other hand on the elf's other knee. ]
Hey, I'll massage your hands and legs!
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His smile turns lopsided at the suggestion, his ears perking forward. ]
You don't have to do that, Bolin.
[ It does sound nice, though ... ]
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[ He used to give massages to Opal, especially around the time that she'd first started bending seriously. Not to say that Opal hadn't been fit before that, but she'd been thrust into the life of a martial artist, and any change that swift always game with aches and pains. Granted, the ones he'd given Opal had also been of a slightly different nature, but it's not like he's incapable of keeping things rated PG.
Tongue sticking out in concentration, he starts with Adra's right leg, fingers curling around the back and thumbs pressing in. If he was a bit more sober, he might've shown a bit more consideration, but in his determined, inebriated state, he just shakes his head and pulls the elf's pant leg up, not even making a comment on it as continues down the calf, fingers pressing into warm skin this time. ]
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He exhales slowly, closing his eyes. ]
Oh--okay. That's pretty good, actually.
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Focused still, he smiles proudly, working back up the calf before he moves onto the next leg. ]
Hey, I'm actually pretty good at handling people's bodies you know.
[ He's no medic, but he's a bender, which gives him an innate understand of his body that he can apply to others. Bolin has always been a physical person besides. ]
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You did this often, then?
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Not really.
[ He's just having fun, rubbing his fingers in circles the way he's enjoyed being massaged in the past, admiring how much stronger Adra's body has gotten. It's proof of his tenacity. ]
If anything starts to feel funny, you'll probably have to let me know.
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'Funny' is not the word I'd use to describe how I'm feeling right now.
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It's good, huh? Would you recommend me to a friend?
[ Even if he's an easily distracted masseur, finishing up the second leg and tracing a tattoo instead of moving onto the arms like he should. ]
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Um. Every friend I can think of.
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But it's not raining, the orchid's fallen from Adra's hair and Bolin picks it up with a small smile, standing up from his crouch to settle on the arm of the couch instead. ]
You dropped this. [ Before he's reaching forward to place it back. It's sloppy because he has no experience, and a little lopsided. ]
I'll do your arms next!
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Thanks for the help.
[ He rolls up his sleeves, revealing--of course--more skin dense with glowing tattoos. As with his legs, there's increasing tone to his muscles. Nothing like Bolin's gunshow, or really any brand of gun at all, but everything is significantly firmer than it was before. ]
All of it.
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What? If you mean the mess, obviously! [ He's incredibly adamant. ] You work so hard! You should rely on others more.
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