He reaches over to lay a hand on his shoulder and give a gentle squeeze, real fondness in the touch. It falls and Fjord slumps where he is, head resting back on the couch so that when his eyes fall shut it's an effort to pry them back open; decision made, he hums.
There's a comforting weight in the touch, and Essek finds himself leaning in a little more, gaze softening. He settles a hand on Fjord's thigh, companionable.
"Ah...well, I'm glad, then."
He eyes the cup in his hands. "...are you going to finish that?"
He opens his mouth to reply and stops short as a heavy head drops onto his shoulder. Essek shifts, though not away, finding a more comfortable angle for them both. It still feels surprising, this sort of closeness. Even after...everything. Sex and its related activities are one thing, but this is...different.
"Just over one hundred and twenty," he reminds Fjord evenly. "And...no. Not that I can remember."
Well that gets a raised eyebrow in mostly genuine confusion. "Only compared to those of you who do not live so long. I am still considered to be rather young in Kryn society."
Though it's meant to be lighthearted, Essek goes quiet for a few moments. The thought settles heavily in his chest, one that he's had to work hard to look away from in the past. Time is his specialty, and now especially outside the Dynasty, it's hard not to be aware of the differences of their lifespans. Even if he had fully been expecting his own life to be cut short sooner than later back on Exandria, should he manage to escape such a fate, much of the Nein will be gone from the world in only a matter of decades.
"...perhaps, by some," he answers softly, trying to ignore the momentary tightness in his chest.
Fjord mistakes the pause for thoughtfulness, squirming a little closer so his head rests more on Essek's chest than his bony shoulder. That's better. His arm slides onto the elf's lap and he draws circles on a robed knee, eyes falling closed again.
"Ah-" A soft noise of surprise, barely managing to balance the hot chocolate as Fjord tucks in further. Essek can't imagine it's that comfortable, given the difference in their sizes, but in the end, the weight of Fjord's form is comforting. Grounding.
Slowly, he leans his head to settle his cheek against dark hair, sighing softly. A faint smile returns, unseen. A hint of fond amusement comes back to his voice.
"If that's what you want to think, I won't stop you."
He rolls around after a moment and settles in cosily, squashed in somewhere around Essek's neck. Yawning widely, tusks flashing, Fjord licks his lips and noses into any heat emanating from dark skin. His limbs feel heavy and his eyelids are like anchors, breathing evening out.
"Can I stay here, 'sek? Just for a bit. You got me?"
He'll have to enjoy the hot chocolate some time later, as he's now apparently providing pillow service to a sleepy half-orc. The cup finds a spot within reach on the nearby table, leaving his hands free to curl around Fjord's arm slung over his torso.
"Yes, of course." Essek closes his eyes, likewise leaning into Fjord's warmth at his side. "I have you."
Fjord's weight pushes Essek back so he's a comfy pillow as Fjord brings his legs up on the couch, curled up like a heavy dog on a small cat with his face hidden in the curve of Essek's neck. He radiates warmth, more so than a human, and the world smells like chocolate around Essek to lull him into soft snores.
It's the first time he has displayed his trust of Essek so openly and it doesn't come with a second-thought.
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He reaches over to lay a hand on his shoulder and give a gentle squeeze, real fondness in the touch. It falls and Fjord slumps where he is, head resting back on the couch so that when his eyes fall shut it's an effort to pry them back open; decision made, he hums.
"Just being around you is ... nice. I like this."
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"Ah...well, I'm glad, then."
He eyes the cup in his hands. "...are you going to finish that?"
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"You can have it," and on a whim, he glances at Essek under his lashes and adds, "it's sweet like you."
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"Not sure I've ever had anyone use that particular word to describe me, before."
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He slides down on the couch, letting his head rest on Essek's shoulder. It's right there, that's Essek's fault.
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"Just over one hundred and twenty," he reminds Fjord evenly. "And...no. Not that I can remember."
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Mostly. Essek is ooold. Older than Ikithon, damn.
"When I'm gone in fifty years will you still be considered young?"
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"...perhaps, by some," he answers softly, trying to ignore the momentary tightness in his chest.
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"I think you're younger than me."
He has spoken.
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Slowly, he leans his head to settle his cheek against dark hair, sighing softly. A faint smile returns, unseen. A hint of fond amusement comes back to his voice.
"If that's what you want to think, I won't stop you."
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He rolls around after a moment and settles in cosily, squashed in somewhere around Essek's neck. Yawning widely, tusks flashing, Fjord licks his lips and noses into any heat emanating from dark skin. His limbs feel heavy and his eyelids are like anchors, breathing evening out.
"Can I stay here, 'sek? Just for a bit. You got me?"
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"Yes, of course." Essek closes his eyes, likewise leaning into Fjord's warmth at his side. "I have you."
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It's the first time he has displayed his trust of Essek so openly and it doesn't come with a second-thought.