#m. fallahan

[voiceofduality]

@stormsiris [Rest] Sender stays in bed with receiver. //For Fal <3

Soft laughter ceases the moment he hears knocking on the door. That's the high elf's cue to get off Brail's body, and lie next to him instead.

"Come in," and before they see too much: "Please leave it by the door."

Three trays with various foods are left on the floor as instructed, pushed discreetly inside the room not to disturb its occupants. As soon as the door closes again, the bard sits up and extends a hand, creating a spectral projection of it to carefully pick up the trays, one by one, and leave them on the mattress where both of them can reach them.

"Finally. I was starting to get hungry." Of the copious array of fruits and meats, Fallahan takes a fig that he bites carefully not to make a mess. "I almost think I could get used to doing this every day."

[voiceofduality]

@stagsworn ‘ here, let me help you. ’ for Fal

(I've decided to ignore the injury theme entirely - accepting)

"Thank you kindly," he purrs. Surely Valas is no stranger to the downsides of keeping one's hair this long — taking care of it being the least of his problems when it very literally gets in the way of things. Getting dressed is a particularly challenging ordeal, especially for someone wearing as many layers as the high elf.

The drow holds his hair up with care (not high, but far enough from his body that he can put his robes on with ease), and Fallahan feels something pleasant and warm flutter in his chest. A small, delighted smile curls on his lips.

Once he's done, he reaches for a single earring to hang on one of his ears.

"How do I look? Not... overdressed, I hope."

[voiceofduality]

@occultisme​ hello i didn’t forget i was just sort of hybernating

Like oil and water, some kinds of people would never do well with a man like himself: those of temperament too gentle, or intuition too keen to be fooled by his astute manipulation, or faith he found risible and fruitless.

He was most concerned with the concrete and mundane, which most often included the material, the fleshy. Gods had never done anything for him, and neither intended the bard to do anything for them. Fair exchange.

And yet, believers had this unique way of throwing coin away whenever they found something inspiring or elevated — both words the bard would certainly use to describe his craft. Instead of flirtatious glances and thrown kisses, he would deliver his most dignified bows to everyone who stopped in their tracks to offer a copper or silver in appreciation for the music.

Among the coming and going passersby, a single figure clearly wouldn't go unnoticed, a silhouette not unlike an elongated afternoon shadow, but with a face.

And, honestly, it feels sort of offensive that he hadn't turned to look in his direction even once. The bard doesn't bother walking his way, but rather points a finger in his direction and whispers directly into his brain.

"I usually play for free, or the kindness of strangers, but if you intend to stand here all day, I might consider charging you specifically."

[voiceofduality]

@stormsiris liked ❤️ (accepting)

He's in the middle of a conversation, sharing a glass of wine with a gorgeous human woman — mid-forties perhaps, ring on her finger but tipsy, flustered and shamelessly flirting. That's when he spots the man from the corner of his eye.

Oh, dear.

Some faces the bard doesn't forget, especially not those belonging to people whose skillful hands he's fervently praised but a few nights prior.

Their eyes meet, and Fallahan makes a poor attempt at pretending that didn't happen, turning his attention back to the woman. Their amiable chat won't be of further help to his objectives it seems, but it's better than the alternative.

[voiceofduality]

“If I could give you the moon, I would.” for Fallahan cause two can play at this game >:)c

"Why?"

It's a single word, but it comes out defensive, grim. Almost spitted out, and just barely tremulous. His hands do shake imperceptibly, but the tension in his body doesn't go unnoticed.

It's happened again, hasn't it? He finds himself looking at this mistake in the eye, and lowering his head in shame and cowardly and frustration. Blaming yet another victim of his for their naivety, for allowing him to permeate their heart and poison them from the inside out with a facsimile of affection. Valas should have been smarter than that.

And he shouldn't feel so miserable for getting what he wants.

Because isn't this what he's always desired? To be adored, revered, protected at all costs? A pretty face and a capable body with a will to die or perhaps kill in his name? Valas was so easy, so malleable under his stern facade for someone who could play the right strings.

He grinds his teeth, holding back a primal need to yell things he would immediately regret. Instead, he drags a few bitter words out.

"Please don’t say you love me."

[voiceofduality]

 @stagsworn​ liked ♥

“That was absolutely stellar. You dispatched them quicker than I could ever myself,” with silky smooth voice, he spares no praise when it comes to the drow. Painting his gaze with adoration, he rewards every small feat with kind words and a tender smile — even though he could have killed them himself without even dismounting from their horse. But he always enjoyed a display of raw strength, and any chance to not deal with his problems himself.

Even when said problems were simple bandits who apparently couldn’t choose a viable target and never stood a chance in the first place.

“Would you be a dear and clear the way as well, Valas?”

[voiceofduality]

@unsungxheroes​​ liked ♥

A voice in the back of his mind distracts him momentarily from the conversation. Ever vigilant and almost motherly concerned about her protégée, his patron speaks to him in a velvety whisper, almost amused by the situation. “He is trying to manipulate you, you know? And not in the way you’d like him to, sweetheart.”

How so...? Fallahan could swear he saw nothing suspicious, no hand gestures or muttered incantations. One could argue that he may have been too enthralled by his smile or his sweet words to notice... But then again, he did know of people capable of casting spells innately, who could achieve such an effect with utmost discretion.

He was as intrigued as he was offended — he should be the one to invade and meddle with people’s minds, never the other way around. If the half-elf knows a way to weave enchantment magic undetected, he’s interested. “Thank you, dear, I’ll be careful. Keep me informed.”

The bard chuckles and licks his lips as he stares at the other’s for an instant in his best impression of bashfulness. “Sorry, I— I spaced out for a moment. I’m terribly sorry. You said we should go... where?”

[voiceofduality]

@exandriians​: performance - for fallahan from ry'leih!

🎲  14 + 7

No wonder why his teacher saw in him the potential to carry on her legacy. His voice is soft, and warm, and enchanting (even without the help of actual enchantments). There’s a disconnection between the sweetness of the melody, and the mournful, grim story the song tells — a lost love, a fall from grace, and ultimately a loss of self.

The bard hums the last notes of it, and extends his hand forwards... and shuts the half-elf’s mouth close.

“Adorable,” he chuckles. “So, what do you think?”