pontmercyfriend: (Actually happy??)
Marius ([personal profile] pontmercyfriend) wrote2015-05-25 06:12 pm
Entry tags:

Never trust anyone who has not brought a book with them. [Backdated to May 17th, 2015]

Marius does not lie when he tells Dorian to expect the same treatment as Flavia upon his own birthday.

The week before, he made the point to walk to his favorite book store and purchase a few volumes he felt the mage would appreciate very much; a history of the world in general, a collection of ghost stories and folklore centered on Darrow traditions and mythology, a history of magic and its varied traditions through a myriad of cultures, and, a personal, recent of Marius': The Portrait of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. (And perhaps Marius might have also decided upon this as a gift for the shared name between the protagonist and his friend, having felt a twinge of playfulness at the thought at the time.) On the top rests an intricately designed card, composed of various serpentine images. Marius hopes Dorian will like it.

This afternoon, Marius carries the newly-wrapped packages as he makes his way to the seventh floor of Dimera, to Dorian's rooms. He owes much to his friend, really, and he hopes this parcel of texts will help show the other man how much Marius appreciates his companionship. He struggles a bit trying to balance the books, all of which vary in thickness, as he walks, nearly stumbling into the wall on more than one occasion.

But eventually, he manages to make his way to number 32 without further hassle. Shifting the books in his arms, he knocks three times.

"Dorian?" He calls out. "It's Marius. I have your birthday present!"
propertool: (you aren't afraid of the dark)

[personal profile] propertool 2015-05-25 10:52 pm (UTC)(link)
"Marius," Dorian says as he unlocks the door to his apartment and opens it on the other man standing in the hallway ... with a tall stack of books. "I wasn't expecting anyone. I apologize for. The state. Of myself."

The state of Dorian, as it happens, is dressed still in a pair of shining black silk pajamas. His hair and mustache are put in place, but there is a shadow on his usually well-shaved cheeks. He hasn't taken care of that this morning; nor gotten dressed. He hasn't left his apartment.

He has, in fact, spent the majority of the day drinking. He is not a little drunk at current, and smells very much in accordance with this. He is also, fortunately or otherwise, a consummate drinker.

"Come in," he offers, stepping out of the way. In a second, he makes a face. He probably should not offer to let Marius in, with the state of him. Dorian has just enough shame to be guilty over the three empty bottles sitting on the coffee table in his living room, and the one empty glass in his sink.

"All that for little old me? You shouldn't have."
propertool: (will you come along)

[personal profile] propertool 2015-05-26 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
Perhaps in illustration of quite how much Dorian has had that day, he shows little of the restraint he normally might with his magic. Dorian closes the door behind Marius as he enters with the gesture of a hand, like the pull of an invisible rope. It swings shut. Dorian doesn't bother with the lock -- mostly because he forgets to.

"Can I help you with those?" He points to the books, and then to the side of the coffee table that isn't covered with the bottles and a small stack of Dorian's work from the library and the heavy, thick, armored weight of his grimoire, filled with yellowing vellum pages.

"It's fine. It's just my birthday. You know how it is." No, Dorian thinks, belatedly, Marius probably does not. This is far from normal celebration behavior.
propertool: (caught in our hands)

[personal profile] propertool 2015-05-26 01:04 am (UTC)(link)
"My apologies," Dorian says, earnestly and with downturned face, when Marius startles at the quick clatter shut of the door. It makes Dorian think something is significant about it. Something that eludes him at the moment, in the heavy fuzziness of his thoughts. He will think on it later. He raises his voice again, this time with the sterile veil of irony. "Forgot myself. Must remember better not to frighten the mundanes too badly."

Dorian sinks himself heavily onto the couch cushions at the far side of the sofa. He sits, not with his usual composure, but loose, with legs splayed tiredly. Drained.

Still, he is actually glad to see Marius.

"Grimoire. My grimoire, sorry. Come have a seat and give us some company. Coffee would be lovely, actually. I've got a french press in the drawer. What did you get me?"
propertool: (my skin will still sag)

[personal profile] propertool 2015-05-26 02:42 am (UTC)(link)
He really does have to apologize, for reasons it may be better to talk with Marius about later. Drunk and despondent is not a good look on Dorian to begin with.

"It's a book on the practice of magic. In this case, mostly comprised of my own notes. Spells I use infrequently but want to remember. Techniques. Observations. Theory. That sort of thing."

Things that Dorian had worked on all his life. Things that had gotten his father's approval once. Things that had gotten Alexius' approval once. Margin notes scrawled in by Felix when Dorian was working hard late at night.

"Strong," Dorian says. "Three creams, two sugars." He reaches for the first of the books, hesitating at first, but then starts to peel back the paper with as much care and reverence as he has in him, when he is both inebriated and childishly eager to know what he's been given.
Edited 2015-05-26 02:44 (UTC)
propertool: (pic#9100055)

[personal profile] propertool 2015-05-26 03:22 am (UTC)(link)
Dorian peels away the paper on the books one by one to reveal the titles. He stops and admires them, each one, as he goes. Admiring the heft, admiring the look of the covers, leafing through to look at chapter titles and illustrations with the loving attention to detail of consummate reader. The last that he opens manages to get, more than just a noise of quiet approval, a bright, sloppy laugh. He's certainly not expecting to find, nestled between the non-fiction, a piece of literature bearing his own name in the title.

"You are a delight, Marius Pontmercy, did you know?"

He peers toward Marius with a bright look, ferocious and unself-conscious.
Edited 2015-05-26 03:22 (UTC)
propertool: (swaying like children)

[personal profile] propertool 2015-05-26 05:31 am (UTC)(link)
"I noticed that you try," Dorian says, not disguising the note of impressed fondness in his voice. The alcohol has made him more sentimental, surely, and more open to his own emotion, by far. Dorian drinks for a reason. That reason is self-medication. He is a pleasant drunk around other people, for the most part. Certainly, Marius' gifts have lifted Dorian's spirit, though his discomfort over being in Darrow on his birthday still lingers.

"Finish that coffee and get your bum over here." He crooks a hand to usher Marius over. He is aware that he is being bossy. He excuses himself. Dorian could be more bossy, after all.
propertool: (pic#9100055)

[personal profile] propertool 2015-05-27 07:58 am (UTC)(link)
"We prefer dracolisks in my country," Dorian jokes. "And war elephants. Horses are so Orlesian." He takes his own cup of coffee, pleased to see the requisite amount of cream lightening it, and sips. It's still a little too hot for serious drinking.

Dorian pats the couch cushions beside himself.

"I don't know. Am I always so demanding? Sit down. Take your proverbial coat off. You make me nervous just standing there, make yourself at home, Marius."
propertool: (pic#9100054)

[personal profile] propertool 2015-05-30 06:26 am (UTC)(link)
"It is a bit extreme. That's Tevinter. In over twenty thousand years, Minrathous has never been sacked. The land has never been occupied by any other people but hers." Dorian narrows his eyes with a strange sort of expression, a darkly breed of pride. Dorian has many criticisms of his homeland. That she still stands and will in hopes forevermore is not one of them.

"And yes." He shrugs the mood off and nurses his coffee. "Much better, thanks. Propriety can be a fine thing, but there's no need for it here. You are a ... friend. A friend, and a good one. You could dance naked in my den and I would not complain. I might cheer, actually. In fact, you are invited to try it, any time the fancy might strike you."
propertool: (it's written on the mountains)

[personal profile] propertool 2015-06-02 10:42 am (UTC)(link)
"Are you not?" Dorian teases. "Truly?" He doesn't mean it to be mean-spirited -- seldom he does -- but the alcohol eats away at a few more layers of his breeding and turns his humor bawdy. He reaches across to pet the curve of Marius' ear with one long finger, calloused from constant grip of his staff.

"Such a pity. Although if you're interested one day, I could still teach you at least fifty ways to shame all of your ancestors with all of your clothes still on. Perhaps I can get your friend Grantaire in on the act. There's a man who seems like he knows a good time when it presents itself. You really ought to let yourself go more often. You might learn that you like it."
propertool: (my skin will still sag)

[personal profile] propertool 2015-06-06 12:15 pm (UTC)(link)
Southerners, Dorian thinks, though Marius is not rightly a southerner. Close enough for Dorian. "They don't have baths where you're from? Or you've just never gone to a public bath? Or is it like here, with the private running water and whatever? It's still hard for me to remember how all this works in your world."

Dorian presses his lips together to avoid an indulgent smile at the thought of Marius being dragged off to a swimming pool or the like. Would he be just as shy about that?

"We've had some drinks. He's a clever lad. And knows how to drink better than to answer the question, 'what will you have?' with 'the red stuff' or 'the white stuff.' Maybe I should worry more that he is a bad influence on me, or likewise, but I've not yet gotten into trouble with him that I could not get myself back out of."
Edited 2015-06-06 12:16 (UTC)
propertool: (with the straightest face)

[personal profile] propertool 2015-06-09 02:09 am (UTC)(link)
Dorian's face turns hot at Marius' reminder of what Dorian's wealth had once afforded him at home in Tevinter, and some of the nastier things Dorian had said to Blackwall about his personal hygiene upon meeting him. Dorian had been in the habit of a bath twice a day -- morning and evening. Not everyone could afford or get to such luxuries in their lives.

Dorian leans his head against Marius' shoulder, feeling exhausted and boneless from too much wine over too many hours.

"What a depressing thought. You sitting in a freezing cold tub all alone in some country that can't even grow a decent palm tree. You must make up for it while you're here."
propertool: (who we are)

[personal profile] propertool 2015-06-12 09:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Marius' shoulder is surprisingly comfortable, for as thin as he is. And Dorian is, perhaps, more drunk than he first assumed he was. It would make an excellent napping spot, and Dorian finds it suddenly unfair that he's not sure whether or not Marius might put up with that from Dorian. Marius is a good friend, but Dorian hasn't had many friends. He doesn't know where to expect them to draw a line.

He gives a very, very long sigh and refuses to move his weight from Marius regardless.

"So you say. Let me tell you, I've been traveling for years now, much of that camping, and I will never, ever get used to a cold bath. Ever. This isn't hyperbole. This is me recognizing a great truth about myself. That I am a spoilt little shit."
propertool: (every day the sky gets lower)

[personal profile] propertool 2015-06-14 12:02 am (UTC)(link)
Dorian gives a long, loud yawn, with a jaw wide enough to bring water to the corners of his eyes. He stretches his hands out in front of himself before relaxing against Marius' warm shoulder again.

"What a delightful mental image," Dorian laughs. "You're very generous, though. Great? Seems a bit too superlative for someone like myself."

Dorian's body threatened another yawn.

"If I should fall asleep on you, just lock the door on your way out, would you? I may have done a little too much drowning my sorrows earlier."
propertool: (it's written on the mountains)

[personal profile] propertool 2015-06-17 03:03 am (UTC)(link)
The smile that Dorian graces Marius with is gentle and too-warm from sleep, a half-formed and sloppy thing unlike the crafted expressions that usually rest on his features.

"If I stop to tell one off, I'll have to tell off them all," he says, sleep weighing his voice down. "I think ... water. They tell me it keeps the headaches away better than anything else."