#tonlen is a bit of a diva | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scurvgirl · 6 years

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So @lillotte17 and I have been talking a lot about the triplets and at some point I went “Tonlen and Oisin would be cute together” and then this happened.

Oisin belongs to @lillotte17

Uthvir (implied) and Thenerassan/Thenvunin belong to @feynites

Mana’din needs a cobbler, apparently. And not just any cobbler, but a high-end shoe maker who caters to the upper class.

Tonlen is informed of his trade early in the day. A runner fetches him from his workshop and brings him to a bunch of managers who are looking over files. There’s another person there, they wear Mana’din’s markings and look particularly unhappy about the situation. Like they have any right to be more put out about this than Tonlen. This is a slap in the face of his work. Is he not skilled or creative enough to remain under Sylaise? Must he be subjugated to the pervasive disorganized “style” in Mana’din’s ranks? Truly, this is an insult beyond reasonable bearing, but Tonlen is gracious, so bear it he will.

“And what is it you do?” He asks the soon to be former servant of Mana’din.

“I’m…I’m an aqueduct engineer.” Oh, well, that explains things more than simply Mana’din desiring a cobbler of Tonlen’s exceptional caliber. The aqueducts have been needing some tuning up in the more rural parts of Sylaise’s territories. He sighs. Well, it beats being sacrificed and Mana’din has a good reputation for being good to her followers, even if she is not as…stylish.

Perhaps she can be convinced to allow him to remain in Arlathan. He’s been to Daran before, it’s not quite his cup of tea. But he can grow to love it if that is where he is placed. He’s not a fool, merely disgruntled at lackluster taste.

The trade takes a few weeks to be completed, mostly due to Sylaise and Mana’din having conflicting schedules for this time of year. They both need to present for the ritual vallaslin change, so Tonlen and the engineer wait. It gives Tonlen time to inform his clients that he is being moved. To his delight, many of his clients seem very saddened by the thought of losing his trade. Some even nod and say they will still seek him out. It is all very flattering. He also begins to reach out to some of the other higher end shoe makers in Mana’din’s territories – staggeringly few compared to Sylaise that is for sure. It is likely he will be heading to Daran after all. That is where most of the higher-ups are, so most of his potential clientele, not to mention Mana’din herself.

After the transfer is complete, his family helps move him into his new quarters. He is given a small apartment that his mother is none too happy about. It’s not good enough for him, and he agrees. But…his skills aren’t as appreciated here, so…his apartment isn’t as nice as his old one. He gets a balcony, though, and the view isn’t so bad. The closet is slightly too small to house all of his robes, however, and he refuses to part with any of them. That sacrifice is too much to bear. So, he has a rack of splendid clothes in a corner of his living space. There is no actual change in rank, so he will be keeping all his clothes, all his accessories, everything. They can pry it from his cold dead hands at this point.

His memae and him spend several days getting the apartment to better a standard. Papa helps of course, he has a great eye for these sorts of things as well, and he knows how to install things. Ileth helps by cooking and baking and making sure everyone is fed. His new station as a baker is serving him well, much better than how he was as a manager.

Memae sighs and looks at the finished apartment, worry clear on her face, “It is not as nice as what you had. But Mana’din is…a very kind and merciful woman to work under.” The unspoken unlike Falon’din hangs in the air. She was here for that, she saw his tyrannical rule.

“I will make the best of it, I always do,” he asserts, “and perhaps my superior tastes will invigorate the nearby peoples to adopt more fashionable styles.” He can hope.

His family leaves in the afternoon, hoping to make it back to Arlathan before it is too late. Ileth has an apprentice to make sure kept the bakery up and running and Papa has a large commission to work on. Memae can’t leave her duties for overlong, Tasallir will be put out and they can’t have that. Besides, he’s an adult, this is his life now, it’s best if he just…learns how to deal with it. Tacky as Daran may be, it is considerably safer than Arlathan and any other of Sylaise’s cities.

The next day is spent with Tonlen getting his work shop set up. Being a shoe maker means he makes not just hard-soled shoes, but enchanted footwraps, and occasionally foot jewelry that is suitable for walking and dancing in. He started out in a lower end sector, catering mostly to workers who needed sturdy shoes for their work like gardening, sewer tending, construction – things like that. He’s plied his knowledge of stability and sturdiness to his higher end trends. The results have been amazing – the elite can dance for days in his shoes and not feel a thing. He’s proud of the reputation he has cultivated for himself. Now he must build it up once more.

The next few months, he works does whatever a shifted artisan does. He holds sales, advertises, flaunts his work on himself, and even pays a few people to talk about his store to bring in more commissioners. He’d feel bad about the bribing if he wasn’t being honest about the quality he creates.

But to Tonlen’s dismay, the first higher up clientele he receives are military officials. They ask if his resilient dancing shoes can be translated to their marching gear. Well, of course it can and he can, but…military boots? Is this what his work will be now? Oh, how he longs for the ridiculous couture of Sylaise’s people!

He takes the commissions, though, and works sturdy, comfortable enchantments into them. He matches them to the patron’s gear, slipping in a slightly more colorful interior of the boot than explicitly necessary. Well, he has to do something. They walk away happy, though, and soon more military clientele show up – so he’s done a good job at least. And it pays. But what he wouldn’t give for something completely ridiculous to make.

It requires him working later, but Tonlen decides to make some new boots for himself. It will take a long time to construct them, with all the patterns in the leather, and the silver threading, the beaded lace trim, and the heels of course. But it will be worth it. No one else here in this depressingly drab land would dare to wear something so…fashionable.

He needs something to occupy the creative side of his brain. Marching boots are fine for generating revenue, but they are dull, and there are only so many pattern differences he can use, particularly if he wants to continue to use the exceptionally effective enchantments for comfort and durability. Tonlen needs diversity in his creation if he’s going to continue to enjoy his work. Maybe he should bribe some more people to say he’s a couture designer, not just an elite military shoe maker.

But even as he laments the monotony of the work, more military personnel pour into his workshop. He fills the orders even as he tells them that his true specialty is more delicate fanciful shoes.

He is working on his personal project, early in the morning, when the door to the shop opens and yet strides in another military person. They look unlike the other military persons he’s served, covered in red spiked plate, their eyes keener and more…aware. Strangely enough, they make him think of the more pointedly different people in Arlathan, the ones who despised the trends and ended up creating their own style. He quite liked them in a way – they always gave him interesting challenges. So Tonlen smiles his most charming smile and rises happily from his chair.

Only to have the new client plop a pair of worn, well-worn, boots onto the counter.

“These need to be repaired and re-enchanted.”

Something in Tonlen deflates as he inspects the boots. They’ve been repaired and re-enchanted multiple times. The soles are worn to a disastrous point, the leather is weak, and whatever style they used to possess is long gone.

He shakes his head, “I am sorry but I think these boots have earned their rest. However, I am quite capable of making you a new pair, if you would like.” He hands the boots back and they nod, apparently unsurprised.

“I suspected as such…” they glance around the shop then consider Tonlen, “you do not specialize in military boots.”

He shakes his head, “No. In Arlathan I was known mostly for my couture, I made…beautiful, exquisite shoes for dancing and wooing and outlandish outfits. Strappy sandals, thigh highs, boots, even leg wraps, and shoes that are more like leg jewelry than shoe – but all enchanted to give the wearer the feeling and security of shoes. I am happy to create more…military styled boots for marching, though. They simply do not strike the artistic chord in me.”

“Hm. Then I think I will take these to my usual cobbler.”

“Oh, I apologize if I came across poorly, I’m happy to make any shoe you wish. My flights of fancy do not impede my work.” But they take their boots off the counter anyways and say their goodbyes as they leave the shop.

Dammit.

Maybe he should just accept that this is his work now. He is…a military boot person. His days of crafting amazing works of art are over.

The rest of the day passes in a disappointing melancholy. He works on commissions and a few stock pieces people can buy out from the store without commission. A few more people come into the shop, some even purchase more fanciful shoes, but they are more standard fun glitzy shoes.

But the next day, around noon, just before Tonlen is about to take his midday break for lunch, two men enter his shop. They are tall and blonde, and look related in how they carry themselves, straight back, squared shoulders, but they are also surrounded by airs of civility and friendliness. Though the air around the blue-eyed one is tangibly younger and more open. And it is Blue Eyes that pulls Tonlen’s gaze. His features are rounder, softer, his face covered in an endearing smattering of freckles. His skin shines in the light, particularly next to the golden piece he and the other are admiring.

“Welcome! I am Tonlen and this is my lovely little shoe shop. Please, have a look around, if there is anything I can help you with, let me know.” He smiles and sends up a prayer to whatever is out there that they’re here to commission, or they could be persuaded to commission him. They look closer to the types who would commission him back in Arlathan, so maybe there’s hope.

Green Eyes turns to him and puts on a polite smile himself, “Actually yes. My spouse came by yesterday and they said you do more fashionable shoe commissions?” Tonlen blinks, not believing his luck before snapping out of it.

“Yes, yes, I do! I’m originally from Arlathan, I’ve only been here a few months. I am very skilled in creating couture shoes, sandals – really whatever it is you heart desires.” He is woefully out of practice and desperate, but it doesn’t seem to put the clients off, thankfully.

“The seasonal apple harvest celebration is in two months and we’re hoping to see if you can create some suitable footwear,” Green Eyes explains. Oh yes, he’s heard of that, it’s an open celebration to most in the city. There are of course caterers and servers who are paid to tend to the celebration, but most of the city is expected to attend in some fashion. The orchards are there for everyone to enjoy apparently, not just Mana’din and her attendants. Strange but…a welcome sort of strange. It gives Tonlen an excuse to wear the new boots he’s making for himself at least.

“Oh of course! Do we know where the celebration will take place? Is it in the fields or somewhere with more substantial flooring?” He ducks down and grabs his sketch book for commissions and pops up. He’s already composing color ideas and requirements in the shoe.

“There is a feast hall, so more substantial flooring.”

“Excellent. And are there specific types of shoe you would like? An outfit that you seek to match?” What a joy to be working on actual beautiful commissions once more! The green-eyed man is more experienced in this, Tonlen can tell, while Blue-Eyes tends to look over the shop, quieter, but there is something…quite entrancing about him.

It’s not uncommon to have muses in Arlathan, many in the Pleasure District have been muses for many artists and artisans. One of Tonlen’s previous romantic relationships grew out of a muse-artisan relationship. It had been a beautiful thing, one full of mutual respect and beauty. But time goes on, people grow apart.

“May I have your names, please. To keep the sketches clear, of course, organization is imperative,” he says.

“I am Thenerassan, pleased to meet you, Tonlen,” Green-Eyes, Thenerassan, says.

Blue-Eyes smiles and it is magnificent, so suited for muse work, really, “Oisin, nice to meet you.”

Tonlen smiles back, “Beautiful,” he says, the flirt easy on his lips before he sees Thenerassan’s eyes narrow and his lips thing, “is what the shoes you order will be. Now, do you have any outfits to match?”

He falls easily into the old commission work, looking at the designs they brought him of their clothes they’ll be wearing. They’re…fashionable but not forward like he is used to. Still, he is glad to be given the chance to work on something other than clunky military boots. Granted, they are the best and most beautiful military boots out there, he’s a damn visionary when it comes to military boots, but they’re still military boots.

“The slit is up to the bottom of your hip where the leg begins…have you considered to the top of the hip? It’s trending in Arlathan and there are ways to achieve more modesty with stockings. It shortens the torso while elongating the legs, I say that because it looks spectacular with thigh high lattice work metal sandals. The bottom-hip high slit looks better with just over the knee sandals. The idea is keeping a good skin to shoe ratio,” he explains, “here, I can grab a couple of sample shoes to display the difference.” He moves to the side of the store and pulls down a few mannequins, one with mid-thigh height boots and one with over the knee sandals.

“I see, so mine will take the over-the knee sandal. Oisin, what would you prefer?”

“I like the boot, but I don’t want the slit any higher,” he says. There is a slight hesitance in his voice that Tonlen recognizes as some inexperience of commissioning, or rather in clients who attempt to be polite by not being overly assertive in what they want. But what he wants is what he gets, that is Tonlen’s goal as a craftsman and a businessman.

“Completely doable, there are many designs that I can do to make the best boot for you.” He returns to his sketchpad and begins to work on Oisin’s design. Thenerassan’s is strangely straightforward, it’s a sandal style with winding metal that has feathered etching, up over the knee, embellished with a few garnets up the back where the shoe opens for him to put in his foot and leg.

Oisin’s boot, though, is going to be slightly more complex. It’s a sturdy cloth base with leather accents. The season is too warm for a completely leather boot without heavy cooling enchantments, but there’s no need if Tonlen can use more breathable fabric. There is a very minor heel, just under an inch in height, so it will not really make Oisin taller, but rather offer support. Thenerassan’s sandal even has a support heel.

Since the celebration is in the autumn, there is a trend towards warmer colors. Oisin plans to wear a burnt orange robe with umber and gold accents. This makes Tonlen favor a rich brown leather and a slightly darker fabric for the boot. If he went lighter, it would draw a strange contrast to the robes, and this way, Tonlen can potentially work in a gold accent somewhere in the design.

Once they have confirmed on the concept designs, Tonlen walks Thenerassan and Oisin over to the seats and breaks out the molding socks. The fabric was invented recently by a sex toy maker, of all things. It was to make taking casts of certain appendages easier and allow for more privacy. It has since translated well to jewelers and shoe makers. It’s simple, he stretches the sock up to where he wants the shoes to go, and then the fabric remembers the form for Tonlen to work from later.

Thenerassan seems to be familiar with the fabric, however, and he sets to protest, “That fabric –

“Has many uses! It works well on remembering feet and leg measurements, so you won’t have to come back in multiple times for confirmation of measurements. I’ve worked with it for years now and I love it, clients love it too,” he reassures Thenerassan as he eases the stocking up his legs. Once properly placed, Tonlen activates the magic in the stocking. It glows briefly before dulling, cuing Tonlen it’s safe to remove.

He places Thenerassan’s stockings into a box that he quickly labels with his name, then moves onto Oisin. He slides the stocking up Oisin’s leg, adjusting it so that it is not too tight but also not too loose. The fabric can be persnickety with modeling, it requires particular touching which for some is uncomfortable. Even so, it is still less invasive than the multitude of measurements he’d have to take if he was doing this traditionally.

Tonlen adjusts the stocking to where Oisin wants the boot to end and he, in what could possibly be described as too forward or ill-advised, looks up. Oisin is watching him and Tonlen smiles. It’s not a business smile, not a “my pleasure to serve you!” smile, but a flirty smile. It’s quick and Tonlen comes to his senses so he looks away, rolling the stocking down when it’s ready then puts it into a box.

“Alright, next I need to observe how you walk. I create beauty, but this type of beauty should also serve a functional purpose of support. A dance can be completely thrown off if the shoes do not fit correctly or do not support properly.”

Thenerassan demonstrates for Tonlen first. His gait is elegant, but strong, indicating his fighting training. He moves with his robes beautifully, and he is balanced on his feet evenly. He has a low arch, and when he turns, he loads most of his weight onto his heel – a warrior’s move. Oisin however, frontloads his weight like a dancer might, but it’s untrained, to uneven to suggest Oisin is a dancer. His arches are higher so the bulk of the stress his feet bear are on the balls of his feet rather than his heel. Tonlen makes a note to bump the support heel to a full inch instead of the quarter of an inch before.

Tonlen takes all the notes down and circles areas on the shoe designs that are going to need some altering for comfort’s sake. He is very aware that beauty can be pain, but if he can manage something just as beautiful without pain – does that not make it more beautiful?

He jots the notes down onto the sketches. When the demonstrations are done, he grabs swatches of materials from the back to show them what the shoes will be made from. Once they seem pleased with the selection, it’s finalized.

“Now the least fun part – I require a fifty percent deposit for the work, then the remaining fifty percent upon reception of the commission. Thank you for choosing my business, I know there are many others you could have chosen, I’m honored to make these beautiful shoes for you.” Being gracious is important, otherwise, he risks offense to the customer. Papa was always clear on how to interact with the customers – make them feel good, happy, flatter them, don’t focus on numbers, but emotions, they are giving you money, yes, but presenting a servile nature is to your benefit. Customers like feeling in control, no matter their station.

They get the money sorted out, as well as a time frame for when Tonlen will complete the shoes. It should take three weeks. He has two other commissions, but both will be completed soon, then Tonlen can dedicate as much time as he needs to these commissions. If they had requested special enchantments, it would take longer, but they opted for basic comfort enchantments that Tonlen can accomplish in an afternoon.

Thenerassan and Oisin turn to leave the shop. Tonlen can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. And just before he leaves, Oisin turns and smiles back at Tonlen.

“I look forward to seeing how everything turns out,” he says.

“That makes two of us,” Tonlen replies. Oisin nods then follows Thenerassan out the door.

The next few weeks, Tonlen spends working on solely on commissions. Some of his prepared stock dwindles, but not enough to drag him from his beloved work. He travels to Arlathan once to consult his father on Thenerassan’s commission. It involves a lot of metalwork similar to jewelry, and he could use the help. While at his father’s, he creates gold buttons that will run up the back of Oisin’s boot. They’re etched with little flowers, each one unique. It’s a detail that won’t necessarily noticed by most, but it’s the details like these that make the shoes feel luxe.

And it’s good to visit his parents. They feed him and Memae fusses over him. Arlathan looks different, the colors surrounding the fashionable areas are different – less turquoise and more gold and amber for the season. There are trees of rich brown with leaves of gold lining the streets, the leaves that fall suddenly being suspended in an aura around them.

He visits the market and finds a gold silk scarf that remind him of Oisin’s hair. It is completely inappropriate for him to send a gift now, but…after the commission is completed, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Tonlen isn’t one to dilly on a decision such as this – Oisin is beautiful, radiant even. He isn’t even exactly proposing courtship, he would settle for friends or a muse relationship. Oisin would make an excellent muse. What he is unsure of is that this is entirely too early and out of place.

But the scarf is beautiful, and even if he decides to not send it to Oisin, he can wear it himself. So Tonlen purchases the scarf and doesn’t spend more time thinking about it than necessary. He can over-analyze later, right now, he has a commission to finish.

When Tonlen returns to Daran, there are fewer decorations, but he sees that the people smile more freely. The restrictions regarding status are more lax and the air isn’t quite so tense. It’s a beauty he hasn’t appreciated, didn’t know how to appreciate. Arlathan is a work of art, beauty is pain.

But if the same beauty can be achieved with less pain – does that not make it more beautiful?

The thoughts don’t sit well with him, and thankfully he has his work to distract him.

The shoes are finished in the next week, just meeting the end of the three-week deadline. Thenerassan and Oisin return when Tonlen sends word that he has completed the commission.

“Please sit, I will be happy to put them on you,” Tonlen says. He works on Thenerassan’s first. He shows him how to open the back of the long sandal with the right use of magic. The flexible metal opens up and he is able to slide his leg in.

“How is the fit?” Tonlen asks as the sandal closes around Thenerassan’s leg.

“Good, it doesn’t pinch,” he sounds slightly surprised at that. He rises from his seat and takes a few steps, turns on his heel, and flexes his feet.

“They are very comfortable, and I don’t see any place where you’ve sacrificed aesthetic.”

“You are very kind – that is always my goal. Form, function, and comfort. Please remain standing, I am going to inspect the fit to make sure that everything is in order.” He shifts to where Thenerassan is standing and looks at the places where fit tends to get difficult – by the toes and the heel. But everything seems to be right, the toes aren’t pinched and the metal lays flush against Thenerassan’s heel, but not digging in.

“Everything looks good, I do recommend breaking them in before any dancing, however. To reduce the likelihood of blisters, and to help with any pain from the blisters, you can use a basic crème you can get from any apothecary. I’ll write the name down for you. Alright, Oisin, time to fit your boots. These were an absolute delight to make. And as you can see, I added some gold buttons on the back, just for some sparkle. And if you look closely, I etched in floral designs into each one. Just an extra touch.”

“That was not part of the agreed bill,” Thenerassan says. Tonlen purses his lips.

“It will not raise the cost, I did this for the art. If you wish, you may consider it a gift.” He regrets the word as soon as it leaves his mouth. Oisin’s eyes widen, and Thenerassan is suddenly very close in Tonlen’s peripheral.

“As in a complimentary gift. I saw it would compliment the shoe, so I put it there. I can absorb the cost with ease thanks to other commissions. I mean no imposition,” he explains quickly. Thenerassan becomes no less looming and Oisin looks…flushed, but not dismissive.

“Of course not, I appreciate the thought, they really do add to the boot,” he says, holding his stockinged leg out for Tonlen to affix the boot. He takes the cue and puts the boots on, noting the lack of tightness or unpleasantness that can sometimes come with the first fit. But no, the boot is snug and will allow for some breaking in, but it should not be uncomfortable.

Oisin stands and steps in place, testing the fit. He is a natural in wearing boots, they compliment his form in such a sublime manner that it makes Tonlen’s hands itch to make more. The elf is made for fashion, and yet he is here in Daran and not Arlathan. Curious. His look is one that is prized in Arlathan, he could reach high station just on looks. But, the winds of fashion tend to change and those who reach heights with prettiness need more than just their looks to hold onto that station. Still, Oisin is beautiful, and only if Tonlen were without eyes could he not see such beauty.

He keeps his doe-eyed sighing internal, however, no need to make the father-hen more ruffled than he already is.

“Are they comfortable?” Tonlen asks.

“Very! And I imagine they will only become more comfortable after wearing them in. You are quite skilled.” Oisin’s smile is soft and Tonlen can guess as to why he is not in Arlathan. Softness means weakness, there are plenty of sharp people willing to take advantage of those who are given to kinder and softer things in life. Tonlen never understood the need to hurt or step on other people to get what you want – he achieved so many things he wanted, and he never had to hurt anyone. But, he did end up in Daran.

“You are too kind. If you will permit me, I’d like to make sure everything is right with you standing?” He asks and Oisin nods, going still and adjusting his robes properly for Tonlen to inspect the boots. A wonderful fit, just as he had hoped for and promised.

Tonlen stands back up and waits for them to take their shoes off and don the shoes they had entered with.

“I am honored to have made such lovely pieces for such lovely people. I hope you dance to happiness and comfort all night long,” he says, collecting the rest of the money. Thenerassan’s smile is tight, polite – a familiar forced type of smile.

“Your work is very good, even if –

“Your work is lovely, we’ll be sure to tell our friends,” Oisin finishes his father’s statement in a much different direction. Tonlen blinks back a blush and nods his gratitude.

“Thank you, my lords, you are exceptionally kind,” and forgiving.

He sees them out and clicks the door shut. He doubts he’ll get any more through traffic today, but he leaves the store open and returns to the back to continue working on his personal boots. They’re a gorgeous deep shade of purple that almost borders on black, and the heel is high enough to probably make him at least Oisin’s height.

Tonlen is not even an hour into his work when the wards at the front door ring. Apparently he was wrong on getting more traffic for the day. When he returns to the main shop, he finds Oisin there, standing slightly awkwardly, holding the bag with the box of boots. For a split moment, Tonlen worries that he does not like the boots after all.

“Welcome back, is there something I can help you with?” Tonlen asks, consciously keeping his worry from spilling out.

It takes Oisin a moment before he responds, “Were you lying when you said the buttons were just a complimentary gift or…” he trails off, but Tonlen gets his meaning. His smile turns into a grin.

“My dear Oisin, I assure you, if I were to give you a courting gift, you would know.”

Oisin blushes and glances at the floor but to his credit, he quickly looks up, eyes shining, “Oh good. I would hate to not notice.”

“Would you like me to send you courting gifts?” Tonlen asks, feeling exceptionally bold. Oisin blinks and blushes a bit more deeply.

“You don’t even know me,” Oisin says quickly.

“And what a shame that is.” Tonlen walks out from around the corner and strides slowly to Oisin, giving him time to move if he so chose.

Oisin swallows but does not move, “My father thinks you are terribly indecent and crass.”

“Well it’s a good thing that I’m not interested in your father,” Tonlen quips.

Oisin makes to respond but Tonlen raises a finger, “But I understand. I was terribly forward, and I should not have been. Your beauty took me off-guard. It is partially why I included some more…upgraded things in the shoes, to make up for that.”

“I do not mind,” Oisin says softly.

“But I do. Professionalism is very important in this business. So, I will ask – will you permit me to, after a reasonable amount of time has passed, to send you what can be considered a courting gift?”

Oisin’s blush remains but he looks more sure when nods, “Yes, I will permit it. I’ll even look forward to it.”

“Good. I look forward to sending it…and hearing of what I’m sure will be a happy response.”

“You’re very confident of that,” Oisin replies, quicker.

“Because I’m an excellent gift giver, and you are lovely and polite. The two make bliss.” He is aware he sounds cocky, but this is fun, and he hasn’t had this kind of fun in…well, he hasn’t had a partner since Lithadra and that was almost ten years ago. Perhaps he’s rusty, or maybe he’s just making up for lost time.

“You may have point. I’m afraid I am out of time of slipping away from my father. I look forward to hearing from you.”

“It has been a pleasure. Wear the shoes well!” Tonlen walks him to the door before Oisin turns back around, positioned so that he’s half out the door but leaning back in towards Tonlen.

“Are you going to the celebration? Perhaps I will see you there?”

“It is likely you will see me there.” It’s Tonlen’s turn to blush slightly at Oisin’s forwardness. But Oisin just smiles in response, his entire face lighting up so sweetly.

“Wonderful, I look forward to it.” He leaves the store to head back to Thenerassan but Tonlen’s smile and slight blush remains. What a delightful surprise. He can’t believe he’s not done this in so long, he’d practically forgotten how much fun it is!

He returns to the back, feeling light and better than he has in weeks. Perhaps the best since he’s moved to Daran. He’ll have some reason to send the scarf, after all. And poetry. Lots and lots of poetry.

#tonlen #oisin #thenvunin #tonlen x oisin #clusterfuck triplets au #fic #my writing #tonlen is a bit of a diva #'MILITARY BOOTS! THE HORROR! THE TRAGEDY!'#i took some liberties with stuff #thenvunin Does Not Approve At All

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