forum 🌹With Love: Signed in Ink and Blood🩸

Started November 11, 2022 by @Fenrir

tune

(Thanks for the heads up! Happy birthday to your brother🎉)

Ezra flicked his cloak hood up as he felt the first few drops onto his head and saw them darken the cobblestone roads around him. He pulled out the parchment he had haphazardly scribbled the address on. He hadn’t even let the ink dry before he scrambled upright and made his way through the archives and then the town. That same rushed behavior had now lead him to needing to squint at his notes. He looked up at the sign in front of the home and then back down at the paper, making sure he had the right address. Once he was one hundred percent sure the address’ matched, Ezra started up the small path that lead to the front doors. He knocked lightly, going against his first instinct to search around the home first for any way in or potential vantage points. Instead he focused on keeping a pleasant smile on his features, hoping to make a first good impression just until they could get to the topic of the book.
After a few moments, Ezra gently knocked again and cleared his throat. “Mr Rosenbloom? Forgive the intrusion but I read your book, I simply would like to discuss some of the choices made in here, if at all possible.” He called, leaning a bit to the left to peek through the window beside the door. “Or perhaps not.” Ezra muttered, seeing the dim room inside, littered with parchment and melted candles. Oddly enough, though it seemed empty, it also seemed cozy, well loved and lived in.
A slight frown twitched at his lips as he thought through his actions. What if this author had a family? What if this was their way of making money and supporting them. Surely someone seemingly this well off couldn’t possibly be alone. If that was the case then who was Ezra to question any of that? He would most likely end up bothering the family if he kept this up. “Oh Ez what have you gotten yourself into…” He muttered, looking back up towards the house before slowly stepping away, deciding it better for him to leave now instead of stick around and probably ruin this man’s life.

Not wanting to coop himself up in his chambers for the remainder of the day pondering on the book and his very impulsive actions, Ezra instead to take a bit of adventure through the village. Most of his time was spent at the capital, the heart of the kingdom doing tasks for his queen whenever needed. Rarely did he ever get some time to enjoy himself and explore the very place he lived. The first stop Ezra would be making was the local coffeehouse, desperately needing a pick-me-up to warm himself up. Though not terribly cold, the rain made the chill Ezra felt almost unbearable.
Coming upon the little cafe a few minutes of walking , Ezra shuffled inside, reveling in the wall of heat that hit him the moment he tugged open the door, a little bell above announcing his entrance.
“Archeviste,” An older man wiping down the counter greeted warmly as Ezra shrugged off his damp cloak and ruffled out his equally damp hair. “Theal.” Ezra replied, equally as happy to the older man as he was to be sheltered in warmth.
“Its been quite a while, dear friend, how have things been here?” He asked, settling into a booth and gratefully taking a menu from Theal.
“Busy but good.” The older man said with a satisfied smile as he took a moment to enjoy Ezra’s company. “And you? How has the tavern job been treating you?”
Ezra shrugged as he decided what to order and set the menu aside. “Its enjoyable I suppose. I certainly learn quite a bit about the town.” He winked teasingly.
Theal nodded with a huff and took the menu back. “Yes, that comes with the job I suppose. If you ever het tired of that, you’re more than welcome here. In the mean time, the regular?”
Ezra laughed, genuinely glad he had decided to stop by. “Yes, thank you.”

(Thank you!)

Dorian wished he'd brought a warmer cloak as he sat down against the large, magnificent oak tree that stood tall and proud as it overlooked the park below it. Children chattered and played in the grass, while couples strolled down the streets, holding hands and staring at their significant other's as if they were the most perfect thing in the world. It was beautiful.

"Feeling bitter that you lack that type of connection with anyone?" A very posh, teasing voice asked from besides Dorian.
The author smiled, not taking his gaze off of the view before him. "Quite the opposite, Mr. Duncan. I find love to be a remarkable, fascinating thing that one should never feel hateful of, whether you share that special bond with anyone or not."
"Yes, I got the feeling you felt that way from your book," the newcomer replied, sitting down besides Dorian. "And it's Professor Duncan to you."
"My apologies, Professor," Dorian said, finally turning his head to face his companion. "How have your classes been?"
"The same as always," the professor answered, fiddling with the thick wool scarf that covered his neck. "Always full of a bunch of starry-eyed lads who think they'll be the next greatest authors of literature the world has ever seen. Speaking of, that was quite the story you wrote, Mr. Rosenbloom. I can't enter a bookstore without that blasted thing being the only novel anyone ever buys or talks about. My students think you're a god amongst men; I swear some of them worship you."
"I'm flattered," Dorian replied, both amused and pleased. "But forgive me for doubting your word. I am just a writer who's greatest desire is to live life to its fullest and to help others be inspired by the world around them like I am; my book is revolutionary, yes, but not in a way that would make anyone worship me. It was just a made-up story meant for others to enjoy and take pleasure from."
Duncan rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't be so humble, Mr. Rosenbloom. We write down made-up stories to tell the truths we wish we could say out loud. You spoke of love in such a way that it rivals the work of Shakespeare himself. I wouldn't be surprised if Aphrodite was possessing you as you wrote-"
"You're too kind, Professor, but I believe that's quite enough flattery," Dorian interrupted, his cheeks flushing a light shade of rose pink from the renowned scholar's praise.
"Very well," Duncan sighed, although he looked amused. The professor shivered slightly, wrapping his coat tighter around his slim frame. "It's bloody freezing out here! How can you stand it?"
"It's just a slight chill," the author laughed. "There is a cozy little coffeehouse just down the street though. Would you care to join me?"
"I would love too," Duncan replied, getting up off of the grass. When Dorian was up as well, the two old friends walked quickly away from the park. The sprinkle of rain started to come down harder on them, and they decided to sprint, not wanting to stay outside any longer. Once they reached the sanctuary of the small building, the two glanced at each other, panting heavily before breaking out into laughter.
"The rain did absolutely nothing to help your hair," Duncan chuckled as they entered the coffeehouse.
"I can say the same for you, my friend," Dorian smirked, glancing pointedly at the professor's hair, which looked more like a flattened, wet bird's nest than anything.
Duncan ruffled his hair self-consciously, his cheeks flushed from the cold and embarrassment. Dorian kept his hair up in the low ponytail it was in, although he did shrug off his sopping wet cloak, relishing the warmth of the coffeehouse.
"There's an empty booth right over here," the author said after taking a glance around, nodding in the table's direction. Duncan followed his gaze and made a beeline for the booth, sitting down with a contented sigh.
Dorian followed not too far behind, offering a friendly smile to the man sitting in the booth across from them, and also to the older man next to him.

Ezra leaned back into the booth, his hand trailing over the worn leather seat, smiling softly as he remembered back to when he had first visited the coffee shop. He had been a young lad, maybe 13 or 14 at the time, barely into his apprenticeship of becoming an assassin when his mentor had brought him to the coffee house, not to try caffeine for the first time but to scout out the environment.
Mikhail, Ezra’s mentor, had started off his training with the basics, something Ezra still practiced to this day. Learn the regulars, what are their orders? How many cream or sugar in their coffee. What articles of clothing are they wearing when they come in? How much is there order? Where do they sit? Small things like that. Ezra had been back every week for nearly two years learning the customers regular and occasional visitors alike.
Even now, years later, Ezra could still recall some of the engrained details. For instance Mr Ferguson, an old friend of Theal on the unfortunate path of dementia yet still spry and young of mind. Despite having dementia, he always seemed to remember his order, hot chocolate with three marshmallow charred to a melty consistency and A side of fried eggs with some toast smothered with apricot jam.
Another customer Ezra had remembered was Angela, a girl he had met a few year later down the line when he was 17 or so. She was his first love, though more as a sister that he never had instead of a future bride. She had actually been the one to help Ezra figure himself out and stuck by him even after he had gently rejected her offer to court. He still ket in vague contact with her but it was less and less these days. He assumed she had found a suitor and had made a life for herself just like how they always talked about when young.
Ezra took a deep breath and opened his eyes when the jingle of the bell roused him from his thoughts. He watches the two men strode in drenched from the now pouring rain outside. HE tipped his head curiously, follow the pairs movements as they shucked off their wet overcoats and laughed in conversation. They seemed so normal together, natural. Ezra flicked his gaze down when he found himself staring, if not a bit too obviously as the two moved towards the available booths.
“Hello,” Ezra greeted softly, surprising himself when he matched the passing man’s smile. He couldn’t place what about the man now sitting across from him in the other booth was so intriguing but Ezra found himself peeking over at the two. It was only when Theal set down Ezra’s drink, a warm cider with extra cinnamon and some honey, with a notable thunk to get the assassin’s attention that Ezra snapped out of his little trance. “I..uh..thank you.” He muttered, taking a much needed sip of the warm cider. “Interested in our little prodigy?” Theal asked, winking at Ezra. Ezra cleared his throat and straightened, “Slightly.” Ezra admitted softly, looking over the rim of his mug, peeking at the newcomers again. “Who is he?” He asked casually.
Theal blinked, his grey eyebrow creasing in confusion. “You don’t know, Archeviste? He’s Dorian Rosenbloom, the author of that book you’ve been reading for the past few weeks.”
Ezra nearly choked on his drink as he whipped his gaze back and forth between the man across from him and Theal. “Is he now?” He asked, voice rough with the struggle of keeping this emotions in check and not choking again.

"It's been ages since we've been here, hasn't it Dorian?" Duncan asked, relaxing in his seat. "We were what, seven? Maybe eight?"
"Seven," Dorian confirmed with a nostalgic smile, looking down at the old leather gloves covering his hands. Duncan noticed this and frowned a bit, knowing what the author was thinking about; or in this case, whom.
"Are you still going to order that monstrous excuse of a drink again? The one that practically screams 'future health problems'?" The professor joked, smirking triumphantly when he received a playful eye roll from the friend sitting next to him.
"There's nothing wrong with wanting to enjoy the finer things in life," Dorian replied, pretending to look offended. "A lot of people like having cinnamon, sweet cream, marshmallows, or melted chocolate in their coffee."
"True, but the key word there is or not and! The way you had it made, it doesn't even taste like coffee anymore! It was just pure sugar that a person could easily overdose on with only one sip!" Duncan cried, shuddering from the memory of trying his friend's drink all those years ago.
Dorian chuckled. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I’ve drank an entire cup of that concoction of ambrosia, and I’ve lived to tell the tale.”
Duncan shook his head and sighed. “You know what, if you order it again, then that’s fine. It’s been around 19 years, so maybe this time you’ll regret getting something so sweet.”
“Or maybe I’ll enjoy it more than ever before,” Dorian countered with a smirk. It had been almost a full year since he’d last seen Duncan, but every time they met, it was like the months never flew by; Dorian was convinced that their friendship was quite literally timeless.
“I’m surprised you still even remember what I had the last time we were here,” the author continued, ignoring how uncomfortable his wet gloves felt on his hands and resisting the urge to take them off; he’d rather risk being in mild discomfort than to have a panic attack.
“Well, when it’s something that outrageous, how could I forget?” Duncan laughed. “I bet you still remember what I had, given that you writers always remember the most mundane details about a person.”
“I believe you mean the unique details about a person,” Dorian corrected. “And yes, I still recall you having a black coffee with one spoonful of sugar. And a sprinkle of salt in it, for some reason.”
“Salt dampens the bitterness of the coffee and brings out the natural sweetness in it,” the professor informed him. “It’s something my father taught me, a life hack of sorts.”
Dorian nodded, absentmindedly tugging at his gloves a bit. “I’m not surprised he told you that. He’s still a professor of chemistry at Cambridge, is he not?”
“He retired last winter, actually,” Duncan said. “He’s been teaching for almost 30 years, and lately he’s fallen ill, so it’s a good thing he resigned when he did.”
“Your father’s an intelligent, strong man,” Dorian said after a moment, smiling at his best friend supportively. “He’ll pull through.”
“Hopefully he will,” Duncan replied with a small sigh. “Thank you.” The professor glanced around. “Now, who do we ask to get our drinks?”
“I vaguely remember that older gentleman right there, the one serving the man in the booth across from us,” Dorian replied before clearing his throat and speaking up. “Excuse me, good sir! It’s Theal, isn’t it? I hate to bother you, but my friend and I are ready to order.”
“So polite,” Duncan snickered in a low tone so only Dorian could hear. “I bet your elegant mannerisms make all the courtable men you encounter swoon.”
Dorian shot his friend a playful glare, even as his cheeks dusted a faint shade of pink.

Theal chuckled lightly and patted his friend's shoulder "not used to having your targets so close, hm?" He teased, winking as he went back taking orders around the cafe including at Dorian's table.
"No, it's not the closeness." Ezra muttered, pretending to toy with his mug as he watched the pair in the other booth make their orders.

"What can I get you fine gentleman this evening?" Theal asked, a jolly old grin on his face as pulled out a pen and paper. "And by the way, my friend over there," Theal looked over his shoulder and nodded towards Ezra who was still watching the whole encounter. "Is a big fan of your work. He's a bit shy to come over and tell you himself so I told him I'd help."

Ezra could have screamed if he wasn't shaking his head so much. "Theal" he hissed under his breath, groaning softly and dropping his head into his arms. He was an assassin, though he wished he were a magician so he could dissapear.

"Ah poor thing, seems I embarrassed him." Theal snickered softly. To anyone else it would have seemed apologetic but Ezra knew better than to think that, especially about his crafty old friend. He'd get him back, somehow, someway. If he even survived today.

Ezra sucked in a deep breath, gathered what little confidence that hadn't left his body in the past few mokents and stood up. "Forgive me gentleman," Ezra said, putting on his best, charming smile. "My friend here got carried away." He laughed softly and gently budged the older man. "He is correct though, I have read your book and I found it…interesting." Ezra said carefully, his easy smile still in place as his gaze swept over the two man in the booth, assessing and calculating, and maybe, on some small level, admiring.

“It’s no worries,” Dorian replied to the newcomer, smiling warmly at him. “My companion also has a tendency to get carried away as well.” He heard an annoyed sigh coming from his friend’s direction, but he ignored it. Instead, he tilted his head curiously. “I apologize if I sound a bit narcissistic, but I’ve heard plenty of people call my work revolutionary, romantic, or in some cases-” he glanced over at Duncan, who smirked at him. “-worthy of being worshipped, apparently.” He turned his bright silver-blue gaze back to the stranger. “However, I’ve never heard anyone call it interesting. I would honestly love to hear what you thought about my book. Would you like to sit with me and my friend?”

Duncan looked over at Dorian in surprise; despite always being friendly and charming to everyone he met, the author wasn’t normally so quick to invite strangers to sit with him.
“Well, I would like a black coffee with a spoonful of sugar and a dash of salt in it, please,” the professor said to Theal, not looking away from his friend. “And I believe my friend here would like to completely butcher his cup of coffee by having way too much melted chocolate, marshmallows, cinnamon, and sweet cream added to his drink.” He paused. “Did I get all of that right, Dorian?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes, you did,” Dorian answered, finally giving some of his attention back to his friend. He moved over a bit, making enough room for this intriguing new person to sit down beside him. He mentally grimaced at how his gloves continued to stubbornly refuse to dry, meaning that they were bound to start becoming moldy soon, but he refused to let this bother him. Dorian had a gut feeling that the stranger standing before him was going to be an interesting new character to enter the story that was his life. He didn’t want to squander this opportunity.

Dorian was about to ask something to Theal’s friend, but Duncan beat him to it.
“What’s your name?” the professor asked, feeling slightly wary of having someone he didn’t know sit near them. “I don’t think I or Dorian have seen you around here before.”

Ezra chuckled softly, a warm deep sound rare from the assassin. "Ah then we are in the same predicament it seems, having people in our lives that seem so invested in our well being. Loved and Adored of course but a tad overbearing." Ezra's smile only grew more sweet when Theal glared at him.
The older coffeeshop owner huffed a dratic sigh and scribbled down the order, arching an eyebrow in surprise at both order's request. One with a unsurmountable amount of sugar and one normal, save for the salt. "Your orders will be out in a moment." He promised, leaving the three gentlmen to converse.
"I can assure you, Mr Rosenbloom, any praise you have have received from the success of your book is well deserved." Ezra said, bowing gratefully to them both before settling besides Dorian.

He felt a delayed amount of surprise when he realized only a few moments later that he had genuinely meant those words. Despite all of his own personal critiques, Ezra could see that the book was well crafted, the romance was sweeping and more than once Ezra found himself wanting something similar. He could understand how so many people had come to love this book. "I assure you my thoughts are minimal compared to the praise you've gotten but it's an honor getting to share the many thoughts and questions I have with the author himself."

Ezra finally looked up at Dorian's companion, and laughed "I'm truely am sorry where are my manners." Ezra pressed a hand to his chest and bowed his head. "My name is Ezra Archeviste." He greeted, figuring it was going to be easier if he told the truth than try and hide who he was, at least for now. "Ah it's been a while since I've been back. My main occupation keeps me closer to the capital than my home village. I used to frequest here when I was younger but I am glad to have a bit of respite from my duties."

Dorian’s smile grew as he beheld the intriguing man sitting next to him. Even though he had just met Ezra, he felt as if they would get along quite well with one another; he had a similar feeling when he first met Duncan, almost 21 years ago. His father was a well-respected philosopher and his best friend’s father was a highly praised scholar and teacher. Both men hoped their sons would soon follow in their footsteps and carry on their respective family’s legacies.
Unfortunately, to the dismay of Dorian’s dad, his youngest son lived in his own little reality, one that only seemed to grow larger after the death of the author’s older brother, Malcolm. Once it became clear that Dorian never intended to grow out of his far too romanticized view of life, his father severed all contact and ties with him, too embarrassed and ashamed to have such a starry-eyed dreamer for a son.
But even after being cut off from his family and being cast aside as a disgrace, Duncan refused to leave his best friend, instead encouraging Dorian’s fantastical ideas and stories, helping him become the famous writer he is now. In return, Dorian used his unique way with words to ensure Duncan a career as a professor in one of the most prestigious universities in the country. Without Duncan, the author wouldn’t have gotten very far in life; his best friend was always there for him, during the aftermath of Malcolm’s untimely death, to figuring out why Dorian was never truly interested in all of the courtable young ladies his father brought before him, and now, sharing in the author’s success of his latest novel.
Duncan played a major role in Dorian’s story, getting him through each chapter, no matter how difficult, confusing, or complicated each one was. One thing Dorian learned quickly as a young child was that every person that walked into his life was invaluable, even if those encounters were brief. No one was boring or useless in his eyes, and despite if someone claimed that what they had to say was minimal or not as important as another’s word, Dorian refused to believe that; he listened to every word a person had to say because everyone has a story to tell and opinions to express, and unfortunately, not a lot of people want to hear those stories and opinions because they deem them boring or invalid. People should never go unheard, and Dorian made sure that anyone he encountered had the chance to speak their mind, even if it was at his own expense.

“The honor is all mine, Mr. Archeviste. And please, call me Dorian. My friend right here is Alastair Duncan, a professor of literature and psychology at the University of Cambridge,” Dorian introduced, nodding to the man across the table from him.
“The capital’s a busy place,” Duncan said to Ezra. “What’s your occupation, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Ezra tipped his head in intrigue, eyes widening in surprise. “Cambridge?” He asked softly, thinking back to the last time he had been at the prestigious university. He had never been to a college, at least not like a traditional student. He had been trained since the young age of 13 as the apprentice to an assassin. College in the traditional sense was not in the cards for him, especially for a kids who came from next to nothing, no rich parents or amazing talents.

When he had gotten older, he had been given the option to attend but by then, Ezra had felt like he was unfit for such a prestigious, high end, high profile college. Yes he had the favor of the queen but Ezra had long ago made the decision anything he wanted to do, aside from his job, would be through his efforts and actions alone, or at least as much as possible. And college had been no acceptation. If he was going to attend college, Ezra had wanted to do it himself, not be known as the queen’s chosen one. But by the time came, Ezra having been the cocky teenager who had thought he knew everything about anything, had decided against college. Thinking it was a waste of his time where he could be serving his queen. He also didn’t think bloodied hands would fit well in such a clean place.
Ezra subconsciously rubbed his hands beneath the table as he shook himself out of his thoughts and gave an apologetic smile for zoning out. “A professor, no less. Perhaps if you’re there I’ll consider taking a case then.” Ezra mused, looking up when Theal came back with the drinks.

“A sickeningly sweet cup of coffee for our favorite author and a deceivingly normal cup of salted and sweetened cup of coffee for our favorite Professor. And a refill for our mediocre bartender.” He said flatly though a smile was on his feature. Ezra rolled his eyes playfully and gratefully took the refilled cider.

“Well, as Theal mentioned, I’m a bartender at a tavern. Lacrimosa Tavern, in the center of the capital. I’m not as good as our head bartender but I’m learning slowly. You both should come down some time, drinks and food on me for being new customers.” He offered, smiling proudly even as felt a pang of guilt for lying to two seemingly very nice people. But he silently reminded himself that these two, although very nice people, still strangers didn’t need to know about his actual job.

Dorian gave a nod of thanks to Theal, taking his drink as Duncan received his. The author's eyes brightened with interest as Ezra talked about his occupation. "Don't be so modest, I bet you're one of the best bartenders in this country! And I’m sure Duncan would love to take you up on that offer," he grinned, earning a nod of agreement from his scholarly friend. "With the way he talks about his students, I believe a drink would be more than welcome with the profession he has."

The writer took a sip of his coffee and coughed in surprise at the overpowering sweetness of it, forcing him to put the cup down. He didn't remember the drink having such profuse and overwhelming flavors, especially from such a small sip of it, and he had to avert his gaze away from Duncan, who was smirking smugly, with a triumphant look in his eyes.

"What's that phrase that people say nowadays? Oh, right: I told you so," Duncan drawled out, reveling in the fact that he was right. "Your sense of taste changes over time, my friend. Didn't I say that that monstrous concoction before you would taste terrible?"
"I do recall that, yes," Dorian sighed reluctantly. Nevertheless, he still took another sip of his drink, bracing himself for the onslaught of sweetness, but this time it was more bearable now that he knew what to expect. "However, it still tastes as perfect as it did all those years ago. I have no regrets."
"You will once, or if, you finish that thing," Duncan retorted, shaking his head in disappointment even though he was smiling as he did so.

Dorian chuckled before turning his attention back to Ezra. "I apologize for that. Your offer sounds delightful, though, and I'll see if I can stop by the next time I go to the capital. I do some side jobs for various academics here and there, so I'll definitely come to your tavern when I go near there again."
The author knew he was being a bit hasty with making promises to meet this stranger again, but something about this Ezra fellow intrigued him greatly; he couldn't tell what it was, exactly, but it seemed more like an instinct than anything else. A question came to the top of his mind that had been building up for a while, and he finally felt like he needed to spit it out, otherwise, the paranoia would eat at him for the rest of the night.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but surely you didn't come all this way just to meet me, did you? I didn't exactly make the town I live in publicly available information," Dorian asked mildly, hoping he didn't sound paranoid or hostile. He wasn't upset by any means; he was merely curious. Did fate bring this fascinating, mystery stranger into my life? he wondered excitedly. Is he the plot twist I've been waiting for?

(Please don't apologies its all good! take all the time you want for a break!)
Ezra couldn't help but blush as he shook his head violently back and forth, "No, no, surely not the best in the country. I simply am a quick learner. If anything that's a compliment meant for Calisto. She's an amazing head bartender and teacher." he laughed and took a cautious sip of the cider, humming softly nodding to himself, the kick of cinnamon hitting just he right spot. "It'd be my honor to serve a weary scholar in need of an escape from his students."
He peeked over at Dorian, wondering with great amusement how the poor author could handle what he could only assume was sugar in a cup with a dash of coffee. "He did indeed tell you." Ezra agreed, now directly staring at Dorian as he amazingly took another sip. "I'll admit I am incredibly impressed you managed more then one sip of," Ezra waved his hand gesturing to the cup of the sugary coffee. "Whatever monstrosity you made Theal make." Ezra blinked rapidly and turned back to his own drink, though every so often peeking at Dorian from the corner of his eye.
In such a short time spent with the pair, Ezra had almost entirely forgotten the purpose of him coming to the town in the first place. The book Dorian had wrote and how utterly ridiculous it was. But something about sitting down with the author and actually getting to know him, even if it had only been in the past hour or so made his distaste for the book completely disappear.
He immediately flicked his gaze forward, afraid of being caught staring and casually took another sip.
"I work most nights once I'm back in a week. I hope to see you there,…both of you there." He offered a soft smile and tipped his head curiously, mentally chastising himself for not having a better, fool proof plan. Now he couldn't really say he had spend an entire weekend scouring for Dorian's name and address in the kingdom archives, made plans to come to his hometown, go to his actual house and find him, only to coincidentally find him at Theal's cafe. No, he couldn't do that and ruin…ruin what he didn't know. This wasn't a relationship. friendship? mutual acquaintance, he supposed. He took a controlled breath through his nose and took one last sip of his cider before turning to Dorian, giving him his best charming smile, though it wasn't that hard considering Darian was someone Ezra found easy to smile around, oddly enough.
"While I would have loved to admit that I somehow knew I would be meeting an amazing author while on my little trip here, I unfortunately can't tell the future. I actually came here on a personal agenda of mine. Besides, I used to used to live here a while back so I figured it'd be great to relax from the life I'm living at the capital. Meeting you simply makes a pretty normal vacation into something truly special, thank you."

"I- sorry, we - look forward to visiting you at your work," the author said with a smile, taking a long sip of his sickeningly sugary drink. He stared down at his gloved hands, his mind racing with fleeting thoughts that came and went too quickly for him to fully grasp on to.
Dorian couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed that Ezra hadn't gone on some fantastical journey or quest to find him, but sometimes fate worked in more subtle ways. That feeling disappeared anyway at the other man's compliments, causing his cheeks to dust a light shade of pink. "I'm honored that I've made your vacation better, Ezra." He loved how his newfound acquaintance's name rolled off his tongue, like an ethereal melody whispered into the cool breeze of the night.
Trying not to sound too eager, he asked, "How long will you be staying?"

Duncan arched an eyebrow, glancing back and forth between his best friend and the bartender. He could see the look in Dorian's eyes, as if the world had suddenly become more vibrant and new. He could tell the author was falling in love with a stranger he had just met, thinking, or perhaps hoping, that this was meant to be, where they would both live happily ever after for the rest of eternity. And as adorable and romantic as that might seem to someone else, Duncan knew better; a similar situation had happened like this before with Dorian. The poor writer thought that it was love at first sight and fell hard for the romantic, overextravagant version of the stranger that he had crafted in his head, not able to differentiate fantasy from reality, resulting in an obvious disaster. It always fascinated Duncan how his best friend was still able to love so fully and completely, even when he'd had his heart broken (albeit the broken heart was due to Dorian not being able to tell that the love was very one-sided). So while the professor was glad that his friend wasn't torn up from being rejected by his first crush, he was worried that Dorian still believed that he would find 'The One' that would be his soulmate, even though reality didn't work that way. He had given up trying to convince his starry-eyed friend that his life wasn't a fairytale story, but he didn't want him to get attached to Ezra only for him to hurt Dorian, even if it was unintentional.
Duncan saw how Ezra kept glancing at Dorian, and he wondered if maybe he was overthinking and worrying too much. Maybe this stranger was different. He decided to wait and see how things played out rather than immediately jumping to conclusions; after all, Ezra and Dorian had just met, and Dorian was more mature and logical than he was when he was 15.
"You used to live here?" Duncan questioned, drinking his coffee. "Well then, welcome back."

Instead of glancing away, Ezra kept his attention on Dorian, though acutely away that Duncan was watching them. He was entirely sure if he should be concerned about the professor, somehow Ezra could sense Duncan knew he wasn't entirely telling the truth but then again he could understand how the entire situation must seem like. A stranger comes out of nowhere somehow knowing about Dorian and is now chatting as if they've been friends for years. Ezra didn't think he had given anything away about himself just yet but he didn't want to take any chances.
He gave another easy smile, his traitorous heart fluttering when Dorian said his name. That was odd, that had never really happened before with other people. Then again, he didn't think Dorian was just another person. He was an author, an admittedly good one. He knew how to spin tales and use pretty words, sugar coat them in honey and nectar to make anyone fall in love. Not that Ezra was in love, no, it was far too early for that, and that wasn't his intent on seeing the author…at least it wasn't an intention Ezra had for now. He shook himself from his thoughts. This had nothing to do with love, or falling in love, or anything remotely romantic. He was here for strictly business, that business being telling the author the flaws in his depiction of Ezra's own job. Though that would include telling Dorian and Duncan what his actual job was. Ezra wasn't ready to scare two people he had just met.
"About two weeks, this is my second." he replied, nodding and, with reluctance, focusing back on his drink instead of just Dorian's captivating eyes.
"I did a few years ago with my mother and two sisters. Close to where the forest met the last few houses of the village. We moved about two years ago when I managed to get a job at the tavern." He explained, smiling fondly as he remembered the countless days he spent with his sisters playing in the forest or helping his mother cook her famous meat stew on winter nights. They'd usually pair that with hot chocolate or Cider similar to the one Theal had made though her's always seemed to have something special in it that made it sweeter. "I come back here every now and then just to visit friends or to reminisce on old memories." he said wistfully, looking up at the two and breathed a soft laugh. "Thank you, I have truly missed being here. And the both of you? Are you from here or close by?" He asked before setting a few gold coins on the table to cover their round of drinks.

Try as he might, Dorian couldn't stop the sinking feeling of disappointment that Ezra wouldn't be staying for longer, but he quickly reminded himself that he could visit his newfound acquaintance anytime he wanted at the capital. He had never really had alcohol give or take a few sips of champagne, so going to a tavern would be an interesting change of scenery.
He tilted his head as Ezra mentioned living here near the forest. The fond smile that crossed the other man's face filled Dorian's heart with a sense of joy and longing he had never felt before like he wanted that serene look on Ezra's face to never fade, and even if it did, Dorian wanted to be the one who brought back that peaceful, beautiful smile to his face again.
And even then, Dorian knew that the longing he felt wasn't just for Ezra's smile. It was the fact that he had a connection and bond to his family that Dorian had never managed to have with his own. He was dreamy, not oblivious. He knew how his father felt about his son being the only one he had left. As depressing as it was, the author had a feeling that his father wouldn't have been as disappointed if it had been him who had succumbed to illness instead of his brother. But that was in the past, and Dorian never dwelled on the past. Not if he could help it.
"Duncan lives in the capital as well, and I live in a little house not too far from here," Dorian replied "It's not much, but it's nice and cozy."
"It's a hazard is what it is," Duncan added, downing the rest of his beverage. "I wouldn't ever try visiting there if I were you, Mr. Archeviste. It looks like someone just broke in and never bothered to clean up the mess."
"Creativity should never be cleaned up," the author insisted, feeling a rare moment of embarrassment. He normally didn't care what others thought of how he kept his home, and he still didn't, but he did feel the need to impress Ezra, and announcing how his wooden floors haven't seen the light of day in years was not the best way to go along with that.
Dorian saw the gold coins on the table, and a brief frown crossed his face. If Ezra was paying already, did that mean that he wanted to leave? Was Dorian boring him? He quickly transformed his frown into a grateful smile. "You didn't have to, but thank you, Mr. Archeviste." He decided that going back to formalities would make the man in front of him more comfortable, given that it seemed like everyone was done with their drinks and was ready to leave. A quick glance out of the window told Dorian that the rain had slowed to a light drizzle, anyways.

(I did not expect to take a hiatus for that long, my bad)

(no worries, Glad you're back!)

Ezra couldn't help but notice how comfortable he felt around round the pair. Alhough Ezra was always was on guard, considering his job put him at risk with anyone and potentially everyone, for one reason or another, being around Dorian and Duncan put his high strung nerves at ease. It was nice for once to not be overly suspiscious about the company he kept.
He flicked his gaze between the pair, as his comfort eased, so did his serene smile. I Duncan, and especially Dorian came to visit the tavern, Ezra would make sure the young author stayed away from the strong drinks. Though an inebriated Dorian was extremely amusing to Ezra. He wonder what tales Dorian could spin if his mind was relaxed with a bit of alcohol.
He returned his atention to the conversation and tipped his head thoughtfully. "I would imagine a professor of such presteige would live at the capital. I'm surprised we hadn't met sooner." Or had they and had Ezra not noticed? He shooed away the rising suspiscion. He had already loked into Dorian's history at the archives and had found nothing worth worrying about. He could trust his company to be similar.
HE bit down an immediate reply of 'I know' at the mention of Dorian's home. While he could agree it was a mess when he had peeked in through the windows of the home looking for the author beforehand, he would argue it was more lively than any of the home he had broken into for a job. Where those aristocratic mansions resembled more like presitne museums, only to serve as lavish decorated spaces instead of an actual home, Dorian's little cottage held a well loved, cozy quality none of the masions did. It reflected the creative mind, messy and always at work. To try and organize that would be a waste and truely a crime. Who knew what written treasures dwelle among the papers ascattered on the floor of the home. "As much I personally strive for some semblance of order in my life, I must agree with Dorian, creativity is mess, from that I think some of the best works can be made." He sipped at the cider, welcoming the warmth of the cinnamon, nodding in silent thanks as Theal came by to collect the empty glasses and the coins. He arched an eyebrow at Ezra before smiling to himself and walking away.
Ezra tipped his head when Dorian formally used his last name, a slight frown flickering across his features. "My treat considering I interrupted your visit. And please, call me Ezra." He offered a reassuring smile. "THe rain is lovely, we've needed a good rain for a while now." He noted mildly, watching as rain dripped from the rooftops onto plants outside the cafe window. He sighed softly and slowly stood, tugging on his jacket. "I must thank you both again for allowing me to so rudely barge into your lives." He gave a bow to the pair, when he rose he looked at Dorian. "If it wouldn't be too forward of me to ask, would it be possible to meet with you again? I would still very much like to discuss your book if you aren't busy. I'd understand if you prefer not. And of course I wouldn't mind the added company." He ask, turning his gaze to Duncan as well.