I apologize if I overstepped. She wanted our history, and I told her what was common knowledge in the hopes it would provide enough context to answer her questions.
She was concerned for you as much as she may have been for me.
But our conversation highlighted for me that I perhaps owe you more than thanks. Would you consider indulging me? I do not trust this network, presently.
When you are ready for a conversation that I would consider less than lighthearted.
Tomorrow night would be suitable, if you are free.
[He would probably need a few hours to bring himself to pre-game that wine. The whole loss of control thing isn't his bag, but if Anduin was there -- it would perhaps be easier.]
The last time he'd asked that, Anduin had wound up bound up in rope, and that hadn't even been the most significant part of the evening that followed.
He can't help but wonder of the course of the day what prompted this sudden need for discussion and wine, and there's an underlying thread of anxiety that comes with that uncertainty. But he's willing to put a little faith in, and wait to see what comes.
And then the following night does in fact come. And he makes his way downstairs to the suite Wrathion occupies, letting himself in quietly through the unlocked door, though closing it audibly behind him. ]
[The apartment is dark, as it often is. This time, there is no rope or other strange objects laid out on the bed. Only one man among a nest of pillows, contemplating a half-empty glass of wine, the open bottle settled on the night stand. He looks up only when he hears the door shut, taking a moment to wrest himself out of the corner he's chosen to instead approach Anduin.
He picks up the bottle by the neck and brings it over, setting it on the counter next to an empty glass that he had pulled out earlier.]
It occurred to me that I did not ask your preference. I allowed it to be recommended to me.
[He's not even sure he likes it, honestly. It is a deep red in color, with a label obviously meant to appeal to a certain sort of dominant with the two silhouettes on the front in the midst of some sort of domination display.]
I made sure to specify no additional effects.
[And given the fact that about a third of the wine appears to be missing from the bottle, he has obviously tested this.]
[ Anduin's brow creases as he takes in the details he can in the dim light. The slosh of the wine in the bottle, lower than it ought to be for being freshly opened.
His gaze flickers back to Wrathion, questioningly, before he reaches for the bottle and the glass clearly left out for him. ]
A red suits as well as any, I think.
[ It's a modest pour, at first, barely filling the bottom third of the glass. ]
[There probably should be an occasion. Maybe he is doing this backwards.
But he glances down at Anduin's glass, noting how he chooses to fill it and frowns when he notices the difference.]
I have not partaken in large amounts previously, given its typical effects on most mortal races. But I desired to know for myself, and it seemed like a good moment to experiment.
[He nudges the bottle away from himself a bit and goes about running one finger along the edge of his wine glass to occupying his hands while he considers how to begin. There was no way not to make the conversation awkward.]
I promised you that I would make attempts to ... lessen the amount of things I choose not to tell you. And it occurred to me in my brief conversation with Rey that there are pieces of my history that you may be unclear on.
[ There's a brief pause as he takes that in. Considers what discussion might follow.
Then, a little more wine spills into the glass, before he sets aside the bottle with a soft 'clnk' against the wood.
Now, Wrathion's sudden flirtation with loss of inhibition makes more sense. ]
You were never under any obligation to tell me. What I knew was enough to tell me it would have been difficult to discuss in the best of circumstances.
True, I wasn't. But seeing as I have promised, I would argue that involves some obligation.
[That was the point of a promise, wasn't it?
The urge to fill his glass again is rising, so he pointedly moves away from the bottle and back toward the bed. He climbs back up into it and returns to the pile of pillows, beckoning Anduin closer.]
[ Rather than settle on the edge of the bed as he might have done before, this time Anduin doesn't hesitate to cross the sheets, carefully easing himself in close to the dragon in his makeshift nest.
Another very good reason not to fill the glass any more than needed. Especially while the lion's share of his focus remains on Wrathion, clearly uncomfortable but soldiering through it anyway.
His free hand extends, catching the back of his briefly with the tips of his fingers. ]
[He takes a sip of his wine, pinching his nose and attempting to catch his breath through the haze of fog he feels settling over him. But Anduin's presence at his side is -- oddly helpful. Wrathion leans heavily into him, swirling the rest of the liquid in his glass.]
Where to begin...
[His hand turns over, fingertips feeling out the contours of Anduin's hand that rests there.]
Do you recall what you told Rey? Regarding the present state of the Black Dragonflight.
[ Some of the residual tension in his frame bleeds out as the dragon lists into his side. And before he has time for a second's thought, he shifts his arm to make room for him, trying to ignore the little stutter in his chest. ]
She seemed to already know the state of things, by the time we spoke.
[ Before he'd so much as mentioned Deathwing. ]
She'd mentioned you told her you were the last of your kind.
I did. Well--actually, the Dominant finder told her. And the rest of the city.
[This, at least, he can scoff at. It was something they were all subject to, a sort of shared suffering they could commiserate with. His fingertips curl a bit, the tips of his nails tickling at his skin.]
It left out the majority of the finer details. For example, Neltharion was not responsible for the deaths of the rest of those dragons. Not directly.
[ It takes him a moment, before the truth occurs to him. No, surely not...
But yes, on the other hand, it did sound exactly like what might have happened. He'd been a great deal more ruthless in those early days, willing to do most anything if it meant protecting Azeroth. To see anyone as just a piece on the board.
Even so, it's a lot to consider. The copious amounts of wine suddenly make far more sense, at least. ]
No. I'm afraid that is at least one thing I cannot blame on my father. It was me.
[He takes another sip of his wine, a lopsided smile fixed on his expression. Despite the slight buzz, he cannot quite mask his attempts to shield his emotions.]
I had every last one of them killed. Every one I knew of, every dragon to every egg. All murdered.
Chilling as that revelation is, he can see the weight of it on the other even through that attempt at a smile. They had been kin, even if he bore them no familial love or affection. He felt something for the loss of all of those dragons, and the blood that rested on his hands.
The arm resting around the dragon's back curls a little tighter, a resolute frown edging its way across Anduin's soft features. ]
...you wouldn't have done so without a reason.
[ That much he's certain of. Wrathion could be cold, calculating, but senseless murder? No. ]
Oh yes, I had reason. I always have reason. I think you are well familiar with it by now.
[He was practically cursed with reason, with purpose. Everything he did, every decision he ever made, had reason behind it. Hours of thinking, of weighing alternatives. And yet he had still believed there was no other way, only to prove himself wrong five years later.]
I have found a way to undo it, you know. [Had he told Anduin that? He could no longer remember.] The corruption, the whispers. Using the Titan device we found in Silithus.
[There only remains a small amount of wine to distract himself with, as he realizes he has left the bottle on the counter. But Anduin's presence at his side is warm and -- comforting.]
I have been wondering how many of them I might have spared. The young ones, at least. The wyrms were likely too far gone, after so many years of listening to N'Zoth go on and on...
[ He'd wondered once if Wrathion was even capable of remorse. A cruel thought, perhaps, but he'd been hurt and angry and searching for a rationale at the time. Now, there's no doubt of it.
This is regret. It's sorrow, a sense of loss for all the things that might have been otherwise. He'd scorched the earth with the honest belief that there were no other options, that there was no hope. How devastating that realization must have been for him, all those years later.
Anduin shifts slightly to face him a little easier, brow furrowed in tense lines. ]
And if you'd known it was possible, you'd have chosen differently.
[He finishes that last bit of wine and deposits the glass on the windowsill, folding his hands around Anduin's now with nothing else to occupy them.
He does not look up.]
I was angry. There were not supposed to be others like me. I would have questioned if it was worth putting them through what I went through, at their age. If it would have been different.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
un: theblackprince | text
Rey stopped by not long after we spoke.
[By "stopped by" he means she broke in, but he's not about to put that in writing when all these misfires and blackmailing is happening.]
text; un: a.wrynn
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I see.
I apologize if I overstepped. She wanted our history, and I told her what was common knowledge in the hopes it would provide enough context to answer her questions.
She was concerned for you as much as she may have been for me.
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I do mean to thank you.
But our conversation highlighted for me that I perhaps owe you more than thanks.
Would you consider indulging me?
I do not trust this network, presently.
I've bought wine.
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[ That is...a surprise. On multiple levels. He's not even sure where to start.
Well. There's the obvious option. ]
I wouldn't trust it either, based on the messages and photos I've been receiving of late.
When would be suitable?
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Tomorrow night would be suitable, if you are free.
[He would probably need a few hours to bring himself to pre-game that wine. The whole loss of control thing isn't his bag, but if Anduin was there -- it would perhaps be easier.]
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Tomorrow night, then.
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The door will be open for you.
You should be safe to descend a few floors without worrying about being attacked.
[It is an attempt to add some levity.
And he would take a day and a half to prep for a conversation he probably should have had years ago.]
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The last time he'd asked that, Anduin had wound up bound up in rope, and that hadn't even been the most significant part of the evening that followed.
He can't help but wonder of the course of the day what prompted this sudden need for discussion and wine, and there's an underlying thread of anxiety that comes with that uncertainty. But he's willing to put a little faith in, and wait to see what comes.
And then the following night does in fact come. And he makes his way downstairs to the suite Wrathion occupies, letting himself in quietly through the unlocked door, though closing it audibly behind him. ]
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He picks up the bottle by the neck and brings it over, setting it on the counter next to an empty glass that he had pulled out earlier.]
It occurred to me that I did not ask your preference. I allowed it to be recommended to me.
[He's not even sure he likes it, honestly. It is a deep red in color, with a label obviously meant to appeal to a certain sort of dominant with the two silhouettes on the front in the midst of some sort of domination display.]
I made sure to specify no additional effects.
[And given the fact that about a third of the wine appears to be missing from the bottle, he has obviously tested this.]
no subject
His gaze flickers back to Wrathion, questioningly, before he reaches for the bottle and the glass clearly left out for him. ]
A red suits as well as any, I think.
[ It's a modest pour, at first, barely filling the bottom third of the glass. ]
Though I'm not certain of the occasion.
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[There probably should be an occasion. Maybe he is doing this backwards.
But he glances down at Anduin's glass, noting how he chooses to fill it and frowns when he notices the difference.]
I have not partaken in large amounts previously, given its typical effects on most mortal races. But I desired to know for myself, and it seemed like a good moment to experiment.
[He nudges the bottle away from himself a bit and goes about running one finger along the edge of his wine glass to occupying his hands while he considers how to begin. There was no way not to make the conversation awkward.]
I promised you that I would make attempts to ... lessen the amount of things I choose not to tell you. And it occurred to me in my brief conversation with Rey that there are pieces of my history that you may be unclear on.
no subject
Then, a little more wine spills into the glass, before he sets aside the bottle with a soft 'clnk' against the wood.
Now, Wrathion's sudden flirtation with loss of inhibition makes more sense. ]
You were never under any obligation to tell me. What I knew was enough to tell me it would have been difficult to discuss in the best of circumstances.
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[That was the point of a promise, wasn't it?
The urge to fill his glass again is rising, so he pointedly moves away from the bottle and back toward the bed. He climbs back up into it and returns to the pile of pillows, beckoning Anduin closer.]
Some of it is less difficult to discuss.
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Another very good reason not to fill the glass any more than needed. Especially while the lion's share of his focus remains on Wrathion, clearly uncomfortable but soldiering through it anyway.
His free hand extends, catching the back of his briefly with the tips of his fingers. ]
I'm listening
[ I'm here. ]
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Where to begin...
[His hand turns over, fingertips feeling out the contours of Anduin's hand that rests there.]
Do you recall what you told Rey? Regarding the present state of the Black Dragonflight.
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She seemed to already know the state of things, by the time we spoke.
[ Before he'd so much as mentioned Deathwing. ]
She'd mentioned you told her you were the last of your kind.
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[This, at least, he can scoff at. It was something they were all subject to, a sort of shared suffering they could commiserate with. His fingertips curl a bit, the tips of his nails tickling at his skin.]
It left out the majority of the finer details. For example, Neltharion was not responsible for the deaths of the rest of those dragons. Not directly.
no subject
[ It takes him a moment, before the truth occurs to him. No, surely not...
But yes, on the other hand, it did sound exactly like what might have happened. He'd been a great deal more ruthless in those early days, willing to do most anything if it meant protecting Azeroth. To see anyone as just a piece on the board.
Even so, it's a lot to consider. The copious amounts of wine suddenly make far more sense, at least. ]
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[He takes another sip of his wine, a lopsided smile fixed on his expression. Despite the slight buzz, he cannot quite mask his attempts to shield his emotions.]
I had every last one of them killed. Every one I knew of, every dragon to every egg. All murdered.
no subject
Chilling as that revelation is, he can see the weight of it on the other even through that attempt at a smile. They had been kin, even if he bore them no familial love or affection. He felt something for the loss of all of those dragons, and the blood that rested on his hands.
The arm resting around the dragon's back curls a little tighter, a resolute frown edging its way across Anduin's soft features. ]
...you wouldn't have done so without a reason.
[ That much he's certain of. Wrathion could be cold, calculating, but senseless murder? No. ]
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[He was practically cursed with reason, with purpose. Everything he did, every decision he ever made, had reason behind it. Hours of thinking, of weighing alternatives. And yet he had still believed there was no other way, only to prove himself wrong five years later.]
I have found a way to undo it, you know. [Had he told Anduin that? He could no longer remember.] The corruption, the whispers. Using the Titan device we found in Silithus.
[There only remains a small amount of wine to distract himself with, as he realizes he has left the bottle on the counter. But Anduin's presence at his side is warm and -- comforting.]
I have been wondering how many of them I might have spared. The young ones, at least. The wyrms were likely too far gone, after so many years of listening to N'Zoth go on and on...
[He trails off.]
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This is regret. It's sorrow, a sense of loss for all the things that might have been otherwise. He'd scorched the earth with the honest belief that there were no other options, that there was no hope. How devastating that realization must have been for him, all those years later.
Anduin shifts slightly to face him a little easier, brow furrowed in tense lines. ]
And if you'd known it was possible, you'd have chosen differently.
[ Gentle, but certain. ]
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[He finishes that last bit of wine and deposits the glass on the windowsill, folding his hands around Anduin's now with nothing else to occupy them.
He does not look up.]
I was angry. There were not supposed to be others like me. I would have questioned if it was worth putting them through what I went through, at their age. If it would have been different.
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cw: discussion of forced breeding
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