✿ 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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Though it only reminds him that not too long ago, Adra would scowl even as they held hands for mana exchange. ]
Sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable. [ There is a stubbornness to him that refuses to see things any other way than the way he wants to see them, and he doesn't really know when he gets that way. ] Even if it's nice! It must be a lot.
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You're not. You're really not.
[ He rubs his thumb against Bolin's cheek. ]
Trust me, if you were--you'd know.
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Adra has always been so pretty; Bolin would've confused him for a woman if not for his voice. But it doesn't detract from his beauty - there isn't anyone like this that he's met in the Four Nations. It's almost like the other man's sparkling this close up. (He's had Too Much to drink.)
It makes him so happy. That he's got this friend, who's so reliable and strong, who cares so much. Everything that Bolin wishes he was. ]
Thanks.
[ A barely mumbled response, eyes caught on gold and brilliant green, and an innate warmth when he leans his face closer to press his lips to his friend's. ]
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Adra's fingers curl tight against Bolin's cheek. He breathes in sharply; exhales hot. His mouth is soft and pliant, his skin unusually warm. He doesn't pull away, or move at all. He holds the kiss, and holds onto Bolin, unsure of anything outside how the curve of Bolin's lip fits against his. ]
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It's nice. And there's something soft and tender and happy that blooms in his chest to be able to share this with someone again.
When time comes to press closer or pull back however, something dark clutches at his stomach, sinking strong enough to tighten his heart.
He doesn't know what he's doing. ]
Wh.
[ It's not exactly "freaking out", but Bolin's eyes do shoot open, cheeks red with something other than alcohol and when he sees Adra, he startles with such grace that his top half just slides off the couch. ]
Oh my god. Oh my god.
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Bolin, it's --
[ What is it? He swallows hard. His voice is halting. ]
I know you didn't mean anything by it.
[ Because how could he? Because no one ever does. ]
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Is, is that what I'm supposed to say?
[ His heart is beating so fast in his chest, thoughts completely derailed by this totally big thing that just happened. All right, maybe he's freaking out a little bit.
With no smooth action, he eases Adra back onto the couch while sliding the rest of his body off, shifting so that he can kneel by the couch instead, feeling totally lost and wishing that it was easier to make sense of his own actions.
He presses his forehead to the seat of the couch, not wanting to see that horrified expression anymore. ]
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know...
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[ Adra rubs his face with one hand, sighing. Exhausted all over again. ]
But I can see it well enough on your face.
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And he'd continued thinking that until Opal had smacked him upside the head. Just because physical affection came easily to him, doesn't mean it's the same to everyone. He shouldn't play around with people like that. He wasn't, he argued, he really had liked her, and he wouldn't kiss her if he didn't. It had baring on justifying what he'd done to her, and he remembers it now with a heavy heart.
That expression on the other man's face weighs his shoulders down, when he lifts his head again. ]
I am so sorry. [ Their friendship, he doesn't want it to be strained. ] I'll never do something like that without your permission, I swear I'm not like that.
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[ He puts peculiar emphasis on the phrase 'like that', because right now he's not really sure what Bolin is like. What had possessed him to do such a thing? What motivated him? What did it mean? Because, for Adra, things like this always had meaning. It wasn't always a two-way street, and he's aware of that, too, but ... Bolin didn't seem the type.
So Adra just curls up where he is. ]
On second thought, I will go ahead and take a minute before I go back out there.
[ But Bolin's free to leave. ]
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At first, he's ready to go and bury the night from his memory but.
That's irresponsible, and he stares at Adra's form, thinking of Korra's disappointed face if he just left. He's not going to leave his friend high and dry like that. ]
Hey. [ An expression more worried as he peers at the elf. ] Are you okay?
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I'm perfectly fine. Please. Go on.
[ He stares at Bolin, his expression inscrutable. ]
Don't worry about me.
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But just because that's what he wants, doesn't mean he should be bullheaded about it. ]
Okay, let's talk later. [ About... stuff. ] I'll close the light so you can nap.
[ And he does. ]