taken a love potion: ACCEPTING
Neither pure nor innocent, it was easy enough for his mind to wander to any dark corner. Any attraction he felt towards another was something he entertained inwardly in their presence. Sparing a thought towards them, even having a mere fling if he approached and was accepted, he tended not to hide intentions or attractions if he felt there was something to gain. Though he never had to lie to himself, it was easier to hide and distance. A passing notion always managed to pop into his head when he reminded himself of that.
No one would have him for how he is.
Especially those he found himself attracted to physically. But that was all he allowed himself. A physical attraction could be managed. Just because he appreciated a person’s looks did not mean that he had to enjoy their company.
Such were his feelings towards a certain mage.
Upon first meeting Dorian Pavus, Layne saw him as nothing more than a conceited, spoiled brat. Whining about everything, sensitive to certain environments that should have been nothing, the man bothered him. Being a mage and from Tevinter helped in no such way as well. To put it bluntly, he hated the man.
That did not mean he didn’t find him attractive. Something he would never voice to anyone, no matter the situation. Why add to that damnable pride? Besides, any thoughts he had were only drawn upon when the other was around. Once Dorian was out of sight, he was out of mind. Layne did not care for him and it was as simple as that.
The exact time that had changed, he was not sure of. The only thing he believed he could be sure of was that the disgustingly sweet drink he had been given might be the cause. Tasting as if someone had poured sugar, vanilla, and anything else to that caliber down his throat, it was a wonder he did not spit it out. There were no effects afterwards and he had merely thought someone was trying to mess with him. It was not until he was placed in a group to go out on an expedition did he realize something was not right.
A small group yet still with one mage too many, the brat of House Pavus coming with and providing assistance as long as he could gripe about it afterwards. Why Layne was the one that had to hear about it, he was not sure. But the rest had retreated to some part of the camp and Dorian was prattling on about how he nearly got stabbed by a prowler. That someone should have been there to stop him -- or something along those lines. It did not take long for Layne to tune out his moaning.
Instead, he found himself staring. Sitting up against a tree and watching as the mage paced about as if that would help. Watching his movements, how he expressed with his hands, and his mind attempted to retreat to the dark corners he loved ever so much. Attempted. That journey had slowed as he scanned the man’s face. The way his nose would crinkle with every frown, how the corners of his eyes would do the same with only the more genuine of smiles. There was an urge to reach out and brush his fingers along his cheek. To run his thumb along Dorian’s cheek bone and perhaps have a smile turned to him. Imagining what it would feel like to have the man’s soft lips against his own chapped ones --
And he snapped himself out at that point. The far off expression he had on his face before was now mixed with confusion and anger. Why would he be thinking of these things? Why would he even bother with a fucking mage, especially one with such an attitude?
Dorian was still talking as he stood up from his spot under the tree but he was still not hearing him.
That was all he could find himself able to say. All he could manage as he took his leave from the campground. He needed a walk, to clear these thoughts from his mind. As it had been so many times before -- out of sight, out of mind. But they refused to leave him. Refused to let him be and Dorian continued to wrack him even as he walked further away.
Maybe a knife in the vint’s FACE would help.
