veilward | THIS THE EMMROOK VARIETY HOUR NOW

For the moment he could have Hugh. That needed to suffice, and he needed to not dwell on words said during sex. It was always easy to get the promises one dreamed of then.

He exhaled, relaxing as he laid down and stretched out after the circus of limbs. Having a lover's eyes on him, his body, was always it's own unique thrill.

"Pelt?" he asked a he assisted with removing the rest of his clothing. "Would you like my skin when I'm done with it, then? And robes are traps. Pretty things that hold you back. I need to be able to roll or dodge at a moment's notice without worrying I'm flashing anyone around. Imagine fighting something with a dozen skeletal limbs that it can detach and reattach while in robes." Emmrich snorted.

"Ill wear them to the parties I'm expected at, but nowhere else."

"No discussion of anyone's skin being divorced from the rest of them when their clothes are off." Hugh delivered a half-hearted swat to the meat of Emmrich's thigh without any real sting to it.

Skin was off the table, but Hugh was adamant about those trousers coming off. While it nearly got him accidentally kicked in the jaw, eventually, Emmrich's pants joined the growing pile of clothes on the palanquin floor.

"A dozen what now?" Hugh pulled a face as he paused mid-thumbing off the cap to the oil. He then made an amused huff that was almost a laugh and shook his head before he said, "Right—necromancers, you'd think that shouldn't surprise me."

The rising late morning sun cast dramatic shadows through the horizontal wooden slats of the palanquin windows. Hguh was crouched over Emmrich just at the right height for his face to be obscured, but his eyeshine flickered with every jostle of the palanquin, where stray light caught the right angle.

"At least I have the sight of you in that nightgown to tide over my imagination, then," Hugh said with feigned disappointed as a clove oil-slickened hand dipped between Emmrich's legs.

Hugh made a soft 'ah' sound like one does when finding just what they'd been looking for when he found little resistence after pressing one finger past the elft of Emmrich's ass and quickly followed with a second.

"Well, this makes things a bit easier."

He laughed at the playful smack, briefly wondering if an immortal vampire would be interested in an immortal lich partner before dismissing the thought; there'd be no blood. Not like Hugh was in this just for the blood, but he would still need to eat.

"The Fade gets strange inside the Necropolis. No one made that thing. It wandered in and needed to be dealt with. That's what I do when needed -- see what the Fade has brought in and help them safely adapt, or remove them, or put them back to rest. And then catalogue them so there's records and precedent." And that's the rest of the reason he was assigned to this. Whatever is stirring might have some Fade weirdness going on and he knows how to deal with that better than any other.

"You have the sight of me naked to 'tide you over,'" Emmrich retorted. "That should be far better than-oh." The fingers slipped in, one after the other, and he melted like butter onto the bench. There were words for how good this felt, but none truly encompassed the way it felt to be stretched open by someone one had feelings for, to be prepared for mutual pleasure.

He rocked his hips slowly to encourage Hugh, gazing up at his shadowed face. One day, since the vampire had no issues with sunlight, he would have to have Hugh in a very nice bed with daylight covering the both of them. Hugh's already-golden tones would glow.

"You make me want to make things easy."

"Well, the Necropolis was low on my list for places I'd suspect the Fade of behaving."

Glib as the statement was, Hugh did have a healthy sense of apprehension about what they might find down deep enough in places even only adjacent to the Necropolis. While it wasn't wise to base everything on an outsider's understanding of rumors and speculation, Hugh was never eager to plummet into the depths of the Earth. At least if it had someone like Emmrich running around in it, then it couldn't be all that bad.

"The sight of a wrapped present is half the fun, isn't it?" Hugh teased as he pistoned his fingers to the knuckle and watched Emmrich come apart beneath him.

The scent of clove and musk filled the tight space as Hugh bent forward, peppering kisses along Emmrich's throat with the barest hint of teeth as he stretched him open.

"What do you want? No blanket answers," Hugh nipped at Emmrich's jaw as if to goad him just before adding a third finger. "Tell me."

He wonders if the Grey Wardens hide as much about the Deep Roads and Darkspawn as the Mourn Watch does about the depths of the Grand Necropolis. Even the non-threatening information, that the Grand Necropolis often shifted and sometimes parts of it just vanished for a century or more, was rarely shared with outsiders. Then again, who would believe it? The people of Thedas liked to believe that the Fade didn't really have any influence on their lives.

"Going to put me in a ribbon, oh, a ribbon and bow next?" He'd wear that for Hugh. In private. There's a lot he'd do for this man, and for him to keep sliding those lovely fingers in and out. Each press gets easier, feels better, and that's not even counting the slightly rough kisses.

The third finger and nip drew a moan from him. Emmrich's eyes fluttered closed for a few moments so he could try to think through the delicious sensations.

"I want this, the slow pace as you take me, as long as you can handle it. I want you against me. I want your lips and your teeth. I won't hold any accidents against you, but let's try for no blood this time, please. Soft, like the look your eyes when I play with your hair." His voice was thick and heavy as he talked, broken up with pauses as Hugh rubbed the best places inside him. "Fill me, and let's take our time." He wanted to make love without calling it that.

Distantly, Hugh had to appreciate the irony of representatives of two of the most insular groups in Thedas doing the horizontal dance within hours of introduction. Maybe Emmrich wouldn't have seen the humor in how quickly they bedded each other, but that was a bridge to cross for another time.

"A big, green satin one to bring out your eyes and has you trussed up all neat." There was a spike in Emmrich's heart rate and and rush of blood southward Hugh could actually hear — the idea evidently excited Emmrich, all snarking aside. There was a streak of wildness under all that self-control that Hugh would love to explore.

"If I can handle it?" A mischievous smile curled on Hugh's lips as his fangs slowly retracted to blunted canines. Emmrich could have said he wanted anything in that gently taming voice of his, and Hugh would have folded like a house of cards. "Oh, I suppose I could shore up a little patience for you."

With a twist of his wrist, Hugh pressed once more against Emmrich's prostate before slowly retracting his hand. On his knees, he maneuvered between Emmrich's legs. Even bent over, it was a tight fit, and if Hugh got too excited, he'd still run the risk of striking his one on the wood paneling. Slow would be best for both of them.

The hand that gripped Emmrich's thigh slid up until he was cupping his cheek, thumb stroking Emmrich's lower lip still sporting that little red line from where it snagged on his fangs. Hugh took himself in hand and eased into Emmrich until his cock was hilted inside. He sucked in a gasp at the warm, velvelty pressure before he blew out a chest-shuddering sigh.

"Don't move just yet," he said softly, rocking his hips once before stilling again. "Just breathe."

Trussed up, no less. That's something he wants to indulge in, if they find the time. And if he finds a green ribbon that would work. That might be the more difficult challenge.

But Hugh's taking him up on this challenge so Emmrich will absolutely make his best effort to find a ribbon that would work. He adored the mischief on Hugh's face. Even more charming was the way he so quickly agreed, as if Emmrich could have asked for the moon and Hugh would have done his best to get it for him.

As if Hugh might be feeling the same wash of deeper emotions as Emmrich is.

Emmrich whimpered at the press of his prostate paired with suddenly being empty. It was worth it, though, so worth it with how gentle Hugh was being, how soft and caring. Emmrich watched every expression on Hugh's face as slowly, steadily he was filled. When Hugh finally was in Emmrich reached up again to return to stroking his hair, taking careful breaths while trying to relax into the stretch. The rock of Hugh's hips made him shudder despite himself, but otherwise he stayed still as asked.

"You are, are utterly delightful. Exquisite." Each breath was shaky, punctuating his words as he adjusted, as he adapted. "Sublime. You fill me so well."

Go slow, Emmrich had asked. Gentle, no teeth, and with time to feel one another. That should have been as straightforward as any request given, but Hugh found himself struggling to acquiesce. The moment Hugh had bottomed out, it was as though something in his flipped. His blood was pumping, and every synapse was a livewire urging him to sink his teeth into Emmrich's neck despite his lack of hunger. The incentive to fuck an to feed had never overlapped, but something about Emmrich was pushing him over the edge.

No one had held him like Emmrich had, cherished their time spent with him like Emmrich did. No one ever wanted more out of him than an itch scratched and a summary exit. A little counterintuitive that this tender approach was what Hugh craved, yet it was driving him more and more towards something bestial.

"Gorgeous. You feel..." Hugh rolled his hips sluggishly but still gasped like the wind was punched out him as he hilted again. Emmrich might be singing his praises, but Hugh was being slowly rendered more monosyllabic. "So good. So— fuck— "

Hugh groped blindly at his side before he was pulling up his leather belt. It was thick, made to fasten armor over his jerkin. Hugh pushed the buckled end of the belt into Emmrich's hand with a flushed, desperate look in his eyes.

"Hold this tight, I need it taut to pull against." He was panting through the words. "Just— trust me, please?"

The purpose wasn't made clear until Hugh took the other end of the belt and bit down hard onto the densest part. His lips curled, and it was evident his fangs had made their reapprence and were now deeply embedded in the leather. When Hugh fucked back into Emmrich this time, a deep-throated growl erupted from him.

He scratched Hugh's scalp lightly, listening to how difficult he was making it for Hugh to talk. It went straight to his ego. The belt threw him off, though. His first thought was that Hugh was going to restrain him, but that clearly wasn't the plan.

"Of course," he said when Hugh asked him to trust, because trust was easy by now. Emmrich looped fingers through the buckle itself so as to make sure it wasn't yanked out of his hand. The growl paired with Hugh biting the belt made Emmrich wonder if he'd asked too much even as it sent a rush through him.

He tried to find his voice after the last thrust, after that growl, and it took a moment. "Are you, are you okay? Do you need, do you, is..." He should not be so much more turned on by this apparent danger. Something was clearly wrong with him, except maybe it wasn't the danger so much as it the way Hugh was fighting to keep his head. He was fighting to not hurt Emmrich. That might be the appeal. But it felt like a selfish thing. He didn't want to make this rough on Hugh.

"If you need to harder, it's all right. It's okay. You're so good. Been so good." The sentences were incomplete but it was the best he could do.

Another growled tore through Hugh's throat, but this one was softer. The belt pulled tighter between them but only as Hugh vigourously nodded, signaling to Emmrich he was alright. There was a certain thrill in being held back—not necessarily restrained, but tempered by the tenous thread of being trust not to go over the edge.

Even without the belt between his teeth, Hugh didn't trust himself to speak. Head canted into Emmrich's touch with his gaze unfocused, Hugh's eyes fluttered closed. He continued fucking Emmrich at the languid, steady pace that felt like being carried on a wave. Growls petered out into moans just as Emmrich called him good, telling him he was being good. Emmrich trusted him—few could claim that. Hugh wanted to deserve it.

The belt slackened as Hugh fell forward, head on Emmrich's shoulder. He was still biting hard into the leather, but as he did so, he nuzzled against Emmrich's cheek. Something that sounded an awful lot like Emmrich's name being repeated over and over was almost discernible through the muffled peals of needful pleasure.

Emmrich relaxed again as the noise changed and Hugh continued slowly fucking him. Hugh was all right. Hugh was good, and Emmrich could simply let the sensations build. Or not simply let it. He moved now, meeting Hugh's movements, letting the languid pace steadily build heat through the whole of his body.

"My darling," he said quietly when Hugh nuzzled against him. "You rise so well, so well to the moment. So good to me."

He turned his head and kissed the side of Hugh's face, his cheek and temple. Even sweat was beautiful on the man, this impossible, amazing man. With the slack he could rest his other hand on Hugh's back and feel the muscles engaged with every steadily relentless thrust into him.

"Truly, oh, truly perfect," Emmrich groaned, starting to lose the pace a little. "Oh, Hugh. Dearest, darling man." He trembled with the emotions of it all, and when it sank in that it was his name Hugh was saying that was enough. Emmrich came quietly underneath Hugh, with his fingers tugging hard on Hugh's hair as he clenched all of them tight to make sure not to drop the belt.

That momentary loss of control should have frightened them both. Hugh should have pulled away the moment the urge to bite into something gripped him. He'll, Emmrich should have pushed him off and had him muzzled as soon as he saw sharpened teeth flash in his direction. Only neither of them stopped, and somehow, they were fine.

More than fine. Fucking slow, inhaling lilac and the peppery undertone of unmistakable lust. Emmrich was a dream he could get lost in. Hugh keened in a higher note at every bit of praise until a cool, damp spot pooled in Emmrich's neck where the overstimulated tears came unbidden.

The belt lasted as long as Hugh did. After Emmrich came, Hugh cognizant enough to take him in hand near the end, Hugh wasn't far behind. Another sharp tug and strap of leather in Hugh's mouth snapped with one final tug as he snapped his hips and spilled into the gorgeous, wonderful man beneath him.

"Fuck...fuck..." Heart hammering so loud in his chest, Hugh's heightened senses could barely hear anything else as he collapsed on top of Emmrich.

"You're beautiful..." Hugh almost sounded drunk on the come down as he went limp, head on Emmrich's shoulder as his hands blindly moved across any part of the other man he could touch.

Then, sounded more far off, he murmured a quiet little thank you as the fingers in his hair and the rocking of the palaquin made it harder to keep his eyes open. It was moments after his softened cock slid out of Emmrich that his breathing slowed and he started snoring quietly.

Once the belt snapped Emmrich let the buckle fall so he could gently brush the sides of Hugh's face with his fingers, seeking to dry up the tears. He resumed the soft, gentle kisses as Hugh laid his head down and his hands wandered. While not fond of either the feeling of loss once Hugh's cock was gone or the stickiness between then, Emmrich wasn't sure if he should move.

Eventually the stickiness gets to him.

"Here, darling, just a moment," he murmured, trying to shift under Hugh's weight enough to tangle his fingers in his pack's straps and tug. There were washcloths in there, and he pulled one out. Emmrich cast ice, enough to make a small cube, and wrapped the cloth around it before casting just enough fire underneath to warm the thing. It was not a precise science, and he was doing it around Hugh, which meant drops of water were getting on the Warden's back, but Emmrich was a little stuck where he was.

Once the cloth was wet and slightly warmed, Emmrich shifted again to try to get it between them. Hugh's weight was delightful and the thing dreams were made of, normally, but he couldn't budge the man on his own.

"A little help, please, Hugh? Just for a moment. Then you can go back to sleep, my dear."

Hugh was in that almost feverish middle road between consciousness and sleeping. He drifted in and out with a body that felt over warm and laden down with lead. The palanquin was traversing the barren wastes at the height of noon, meaning they would have sweat even if they behaved like monks.

Emmrich could have shouted the Chant backward right in his eyes then, and Hugh wouldn't have flinched. In the end, it was the fat droplets of cold water falling onto his back that got him twitching awake. Hugh's first reaction was to whine, tucking his face deeper against Emmrich's shoulder and cleaving tight.

Another bid to get him to move followed more whining, but eventually Hugh relented.

Having any energy to argue sapped from him, Hugh mumbled moodily as he rolled onto his side. The bench wasn't so accommodating to make it a comfortable position as he wedged himself between the wall and Emmrich.

"Love it when you call that..." Hugh mumbled with the cobwebs of tiredness thick and cloudy in his head as they cleaned.

Hugh had been helpful for all of a few seconds before he took the nearest opportunity to crumble on Emmrich's lap, the shamelessness of a tomcat claiming its favorite sun patch.

"Can you..." He yawned once, loudly with a wide open mouth that showed fangs before snuggling in. With his eyes closed now and words slowed it was hard to gage how aware he was. "Do that thing with your fingers in my hair? Sweet...sweet when you do it. Everything 'bout you is."

There was that word again, tossed so casually that Emmrich knew it was just a word for Hugh. Especially in this context. What he didn't know is if Hugh means 'darling' or 'dear.' He'd just have to use both more.

Once they're clean he folded the cloth up and set it to the side before getting comfortable underneath Hugh again. He didn't have a word for how it felt there, welcoming, safe, and comfort all fell a bit short. All he knew was that it was good.

"Of course, my dear," he said to the request. It was the easiest thing to thread the fingers of both hands back through Hugh's hair. Even easier when Hugh was calling him sweet. He wanted his partners to treasure the time they spent with him, to feel cared for.

It was a bit warm like this but he couldn't really complain. The company was good, and it seemed the perfect time to drift off underneath his adorable, fanged lover. "Sweet dreams, darling." Emmrich closed his eyes as well and let the rocking of the palanquin ease him into sleep.

When Hugh dreamed, it was infrequent but never pleasant. Often, his mind's trek across the Fade took him to dark caverns where every shadow on the lichen and blood-slick rocks had teeth full of whispers, drawing him in further. At least those were manageable. The dreams where he caught himself in the mirror only to find a half-crazed, rotted face crammed full of Blight staring back at him were the ones that ended with waking up screaming, covered in a cold sweat.

Which was why Hugh didn't even register he was dreaming, not at first. Behind his eyelids as he slumbered lightly in the afternoon he of the palanquin, he dreamed of hands. Slender hands with long fingers and skinny wrists draped in gold moved effortlessly across ivory keys and harp strings. It was captivating, as it was confusing because the instruments made no sound. All Hugh could hear was the clattering of the gold bangles sliding against one another, but he was spellbound all the same. He wanted those hands on him, playing him like one of the instruments, knowing he would definitely make plenty of sound.

— And then he awoke with a snort, his face pressed into Emmrich's thigh.

His internal clock told him only a couple of hours had passed. Years spent learning to sleep practically on his feet had blessed him with that talent. Hugh looked up, bleary-eyed at the man holding him. There was so much he wanted to say: 'Thank you' or 'You were incredible', perhaps even 'There's no one I'd rather do that again with.'

Instead, what Hugh manages is a raspy-voiced, "My mouth tastes like I ate a shoe."

He'd always been a light sleeper, or at least he had been since he was orphaned. He couldn't recall if it had been the same before; much of 'before' was lost to him. Now it often served him well to sleep lightly so he could hear if Manfred had gotten too curious about something or other.

Today that meant he woke at the snort. He blinked his eyes open, pulling back from dreams of the Fade to the reality of holding Hugh.

"Mm. That would be the belt," he said a little groggily. Hugh's hair got another lazy stroke of his fingers. "I hope you packed another. Though Hasmal will certainly have shops if you need a replacement. Do you go through belts like that often?"

That would be an expensive habit. Maybe Hugh should see if a ball gag would work better for those issues, but perhaps the man's already considered that.

"We're probably around four hours out still."

Hugh slept like the dead when the situation permitted. While he had never broken the habit of always needing to keep a literal ear to the ground, he had years of experience being up for days on end. It wasn't unusual for him to find somewhere safe and pass out in the middle of the day. What was unusual was finding security in a mobile, tight space with someone he had met yesterday. Hugh would have worried he hit his head too hard if it were anyone other than Emmrich.

"Ugh," Hugh grimaced as he stretched into a seated position to roll his shoulders and work out the kinks. "I haven't, but I can just cut another notch—it's be a bit tight, but I'll last til Hasmal."

At the question, Hugh gave Emmrich a look that could best be described as puckish.

"No, but I could start."

There was no time for him to gauge Emmrich's reaction because as soon as he heard how much farther they had to go, Hugh crossed his arms and slumped against the side of the palanquin with a huff.

"That's hours off," Hugh groused with a petulance that showed his age behind the seasoned Warden. When really, he had always been on the impatient side. "You wouldn't have happened to bring cards, would you?"

Before he could even start to process the promise in Hugh's words and voice, the young man was pouting. Emmrich almost chuckled, reminded of how huffy Manfred had gotten when he'd taken the antique dagger away from his assistant, but caught himself in time. There was no hiding his amusement, though.

"I brought books. That was my plan for the time: notes, reading, and lesson considerations. I did tell you how long each leg would take, and thought you would have prepared for it."

Emmrich stretched, considered his clothing, and shrugged before shifting to put his feet in Hugh's lap. He would never bring cards on an outing. He was awful at cards.

"I have additional paper if you wished to write or draw?"

Obviously, to the mental warfare Emmrich was waging on himself with accidental comparisons to his skeletal apprentice, Hugh allowed himself another moment of unmitigated sulking. A glance out the window got an irritable groan from under his breath. He knew this part of the Anderfels like the back of his hand down to every weird big rock. He could see the big rock that looked like a dog with its leg up — which meant they actually had about five more hours ahead of them.

"I'm a bit too old to hold my attention by doodling. " That's not true—all of Hugh's reports had a menagerie of inked creatures crowding the pages.

"You still have that 'Through Thedas' book?" Hugh asked after a spell, and the realization that he couldn't sit there pouting in the buff for the next five hours.

The book was on the opposite bench, within reach if Hugh stretched. When both men settled, Hugh had rested his hand on Emmrich's ankle and started stroking his hand up and down the other's leg to the knee.

The time passed with Hugh reading, broken up by the occasional request for Emmrich to clarify a word or sentence, and before they knew it, they were less than an hour from the docks. They couldn't see the ocean, but Hugh could smell the salt from miles away.

"We probably ought to get dressed," Hugh pointed out. "Might invite questions if we board in our smallclothes."

"Drawing does not necessarily mean doodling. I've met a few artists in my time," was all he'd said on the subject. Soon enough he was making progress on his annotations again, though far less progress than he would be without the gentle touching. It had been so many years since someone touched him in a casually romantic way. It had been far, far too long.

Emmrich considered writing Myrna a preemptive note that he could send by candlehop or raven once they hit the docks, something about how yes, he'd found his heart in a tangle, please don't mock him because he knows it's ill-fated but he's fallen hard, please bring wine and chocolate and be prepared for him to sob before long. He decided against it. She'd see the mess instantly; she'd known him long enough.

"It might," Emmrich said to the suggestion, and put away his work so he could find his clothing and start pulling it back on. The shirt was a bit wrinkled, but thankfully the vest and sleeve garters made it look presentable.

"Will you need to buy anything for entertainment purposes before we board? It will be two days on the boat." The lack of a second belt struck him then, and he considered what he'd seen in Hugh's room. It hadn't been a lot. Nothing about the fortress had been fancy, either, nor had it suggested any sort of budget. He'd seen boards in a few places.

"I can treat it as an expedition expense and cover it. We can't have our consultant be under-entertained." There, that shouldn't feel like charity, too.

"Big art scene in the Necropolis?" Hugh asked, only to flush the moment he had when he realized it came across far more glib than he intended.

He wasn't sure what riled him up. Maybe it was another reminder Emmrich was from a different world entirely than him. A world Hugh was plunging headlong into. Emmrich would be reminded of what he had left behind in this journey and have good reason to cut Hugh loose once he was back in more civilized company. Hugh suspected even the skeletons could hold a more intelligent and engaging conversation.

After dressing in silence, Hugh was left standing flat-footed at Emmrich's question. There were maybe a thousand things he needed for both himself and the fortress. Emmrich had caught them all in a lean year when Weisshaupt was more embroiled with local politics than supplying their more remote outposts. It wouldn't be the first time, but it was the first time Hugh was so keenly aware of it as to feel embarrassed.

"I'm...sure there's one or two small things that would make the trip sail a bit more smoothly." The admittance had him rubbing the back of his neck, but at least he had stopped looking like a tomato suffering heat stroke. Hugh merely needed to remind himself Emmrich was a good person, and if he had any ulterior motives, Hugh would have sussed them out by now.

The dockside markets way out here didn't boast much, but if you were lucky you'd catch the days a few foreign traders were anchored here to rest. In the end, Hugh wound up getting a charcoal pencil set and a small notebook in addition to the new belt and a few odds and ends to maintain his equipment. Hugh had even run into a book trader and managed to haggle for a few adventure novels. One was more adventurous of a different concerning the exploits of a gentleman thief but he kept that one to himself.

By the time they boarded, Hugh had already broken into the pencil set. The only thing he seemed to know how to draw with anything passing for secent was ships. His scrawlings were more technical, but accurate and showed a promise of real talent to be polished. Hugh was halfway to finishing the rough outline of a schooner.

"Quite the cabin you netted us," Hugh commented from the cushioned window seat overlooking the harbor as the ship made precautions to launch.

He wasn't complaining, of course. Two cabins had been booked initially, of course. Just when they saw the poster bed in the larger or the two tucked away from the main ship, well, by then it just seemed to convenient to stick together. Hugh made some noise about staying for security purposes. Emmrich even looked like he was ready to believe him.

"Two days you said? What's Hasmal like, by the way?"

He didn't know why Hugh's reaction seemed so... he didn't even have a word for it. Of course Nevarra had an art scene. What country didn't? And Vorgoth collected landscapes on top of that. Not to mention Emmrich's own time with an art collector. He would easily wager the Anderfels had one too, probably heavily influenced by Dwarf art, but he also wouldn't be surprised if there were flower themes.

The moment passed, though. They dressed and went out. Emmrich found an interesting weaver with socks that looked incredibly comfortable. There was a chance he was going to be judged, especially since they had little purple flowers on them, but he thought they were worth it.

"The Necropolis made the arrangements," Emmrich said as he set his pack down on the dresser. "And yes. Two days. Hasmal is... complicated. It's an independent city-state that more than a few have tried to claim over the years, so the food and art scenes are vibrant and ever-changing. One should never speak politics there, however."

Emmrich pulled a beetle badge out of his pack and pinned it to the strap where it would catch eyes before coming over to look out the window. "It's a tricky place to be a mage. The Mourn Watch is appreciated by those of Nevarran origins, but the Templars do not appreciate our freedom. I have been there once before and it was tense."

He was thankful that he had a rather muscular man with him this time for even more reasons. "If it didn't have the most direct route to where the disturbance has reached the surface, we'd go further downriver to disembark. But between my sigil and your company we should find our journey through it peaceful enough."

The schooner Hugh was attempting to recreate in charcoal was going nowhere. River vessels were more simplistic, but he found with his limited skill that the devil was instead in the absence of details. That and as their own ship prepared to depart from the port, the bow started to point eastward. That putting the setting sun right in Hugh's eyes.

Vampirism had its drawbacks and a sensitivity to direct sunlight was one of them. Usually, he wasn't outside in broad daylight without a helmet or some other covering. In his more loose fitting traveling clothes it left him more exposed. Hugh blinked against the sun with watering eyes before making a dissatisfied noise as he pulled the corded gold rope holding up the curtain on his half of the window.

"I lived in Wycome after the Blight so free city politics and the avoidance thereof aren't new to me," Hugh explained as he set down his pencils and made room for Emmrich on the window seat. "As for the Templars, well, they're well aware they're a favorite among Wardens when our numbers get thin, so you shouldn't expect much trouble from them if they see me."

He takes the offered room. Cushioned window seats with sunlight were probably his favorite places to sit if he was to rank them, especially with a book on hand. But the company doesn't disappoint.

"I don't leave the Necropolis much," he admitted. "There's a frequent call for my skill set, and of course two-thirds of the year I'm teaching. I've never been to Wycome."

There was danger in the world and sometimes he'd allowed his fears to get the better of him when he could have taken more assignments outside. He'd lightly regretted it and moved on and done it again. Now, though, basking in the temporary joy of Hugh's company, Emmrich wondered if he'd made a greater mistake than he'd known. There's a world in the Necropolis that he loves, and adores working with and for. But there's also a world out here that he's shied away from.

To get out of his own head, Emmrich looked down at the drawing in Hugh's hands.

"Doodling? Darling, you're utterly selling yourself short, calling this that. The linework is lovely! May I?" he asked, holding a hand out so he can see it better.

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