Orym sets his sword down in the corner of their tavern bedroom farthest from the bed. He begins unfastening his armor to set beside it as he hears Fearne enter the room from the bathroom. He glances over to her as she sits in front of the vanity and begins to unweave the flowers and ribbons from her hair. He makes eye contact with her from her reflection in the mirror before her, she gives him a nod toward her right. He glances over in that direction and see’s Dorian swaying slightly on the bed with Fearnes bottle of whiskey in his hand. He looks back at her and gives her a nod of understanding.
“Dorian.” Orym calls softly to get the drunk air genasi’s attention.
Dorian’s head turns in his direction over his shoulder, eyes slightly unfocused. Orym sees him smile crookedly in response. The halfling makes his way over to the bard, gently placing a hand on the arm holding the bottle.
“I think you’ve had enough buddy.” He gently takes the whisky bottle out of Dorians hand, thankful he isn’t met with any resistance.
The air genasi sighs in response and flops down backward onto the mattress of the large bed. Orym watches silently for a moment as Dorian wipes a hand over his face and groans into it.
“I told them a lot… didn’t I?” the bard slurs.
Orym puts a hand on his knee, softly rubbing circles in it to comfort him.
“You did.” The halfling says gently. “But I think we can trust them to keep this secret.”
Dorian gives a sigh in response. The larger man sits up unsteadily and looks down at his companion.
“Maybe.” He agrees after a moment of thought. Giving Orym another crooked smile, he reaches out to place a hand on the smaller man’s cheek. “They do seem like good people.”
Orym leans into the touch and gives Dorian an encouraging nod of agreement.
“Just keep your thoughts concealed around Imogen. She’s a sweet girl but you can never be too careful.” Fearne pipes up from across the room.
“Maybe I want her in my head,” Dorian replies with a chuckle, shooting a mischievous look in Fearne’s direction.
“Oh?” Fearne replies as she brushes out her long green locks. She sets the brush down and joins the men next to the bed, looking down at Orym with a smirk. “Seems we have competition.”
Orym takes Dorian’s hand into his and moves it off his cheek, giving a chuckle as he shakes his head.
“She’s much too in love with Laudna for you.”
The bard gives Orym a pout and crosses his arms across his chest.
“You never know.” He says stubbornly.
Fearne reaches over and gives him a flick on the side of his head.
“Greedy boy. We already share your bed and now you want to add in another.” She says breathily as she leans in close to Dorian, playfully leaving just a space between their lips.
The air genasi’s cheeks start to purple as his eyes flick down to her lips. He leans in to meet her, but she pulls back with a soft chuckle.
Orym watches his partners with amusement at seeing Dorian so flustered. He sets the bottle down on the nightstand and climbs on the bed next to Dorian and grabs the taller man’s chin, turning his face to his.
“Don’t make us kick you out of bed tonight.” He says with mock seriousness.
The bard rolls his eyes and leans in to give the hafling a peck.
“Fine. Fine. I’ll behave.” He relents as he pulls back from Oryms lips.
Fearne grabs Dorian’s hand and pulls him out of the bed to stand. The bard wobbles on his feet.
“Fearne!” he complains at the sudden change in position.
“Hush. I need your help. Untie me.” She tells him as she turns her back to him.
With a smirk Dorian gladly complies, fumbling a bit at first but gently undoing the knot on the back of her dress. Orym slides out of bed and pulls his shirt over his head as he makes his way to put his blood-soiled clothes in his corner of the room. Fearne shrugs out of her dress and steps over it when it piles on the floor. She turns back to Dorian.
“Strip.” She commands him.
He does as he’s told, kicking out of his boots, and unfastening his cape. He throws his clothes into a pile at the side of the bed, too drunk to care about the deep wrinkles that will form overnight.
The three make their preparations for bed, stripping to their undergarments and shedding their ruined day clothes.
Fearne makes her way to the opposite side of the bed, laying on her side. She pats the space before her on the bed, beckoning the men to join her. Dorian crawls over and lays in the middle. Fearne presses her bare chest into his back and wraps her arms around his middle. Orym walks around the room blowing out the candles. He leaves the one on the nightstand for last. In the darkness, he joins them on the bed. Letting Dorian reach for him and pull him into his chest. He hears a content sigh from his partner as they snuggle into a comfortable silence, soon to meet sleep after the hard day.