[The hour is late -- it poses some risk that someone will grow suspicious if he is spotted. But he suspects a bit of discrete rebellion might be exactly what Anduin needs right now.]
[And true to his word, the door will be slightly ajar when Anduin comes calling. Already, the scent of ginger root has made its way into the hall.
When he hears footsteps and the sound of hinges creaking, he lifts his head from his task to glance in Anduin's direction. The room is exceptionally dark without the light of day filtering between the curtains and only candles to illuminate the space.
Vaguely aware that Anduin's low-light vision is not as good as his own, he had taken the liberty of lighting a few extra candles near the entrance so that he might have a few moments to adjust to it before finding his way over to him. He wears only a pair of dark silken pants loose around his hips and a robe of similar material to match.
He holds a warm cup out to him when he approaches.]
Take care -- I may have gone a bit overboard with heat.
[ As the door closes quietly behind him, he's reminded of the dimly-lit halls of some ancient cavern, a yawning mouth to the earth's molten center. Those aren't pleasant memories to resurface, but at the moment it's more idle observation than anything.
It doesn't take long to find Wrathion, those luminous eyes a dead giveaway even in the dark, and it won't take much for the dragon to sense something amiss with his friend. Tension in the priest's frame, shadows under his eyes from pronounced lack of sleep over the last few days.
He still murmurs his thanks for the tea, but even without the friendly warning he seems to be holding onto it more for its warmth than the temptation of drink, fingers gripping the cup stiffly. ]
I wasn't sure if you actually meant tea this time, to be honest.
[The back of Wrathion's drifts upward to rest gently against Anduin's cheek, a small and understanding smile gracing his expression. It is not a good look for the young king, strung out to the very last of his tolerance -- and avoiding open acknowledgement of that is but a small kindness he can offer.]
Is that not part of the appeal?
[He gestures with his head, inviting him further into the apartment. It looks slightly more lived in than Anduin might last remember, even with the low light. There are signs of routine alongside signs of comfort, at least one outfit draped over a chair rather than hung away neatly. The armoire, which had been closed during every previous visit, was slightly ajar and a coil of silken red rope was half-draped over the nightstand. A collection of different knots were tied along the length of it -- he had obviously been keeping busy with whatever project it was before the priest's arrival.]
Besides, if my intentions were always so clear, I imagine someone less understanding might take notice of the hour you've come calling.
[ His jaw tightens, swiftly undoing whatever softness the brief affectionate touch might have bought him. There are words he has for those 'less understanding' sorts, but it's literally painful to dwell on his thoughts on the matter for too long, decidedly unkind in nature.
So he doesn't dwell. He longs not to.
Instead his attention drifts towards the changes he can see in the room. The open armoire. The rope he's never seen before, which looks more decorative than anything practical. ]
You've been busy.
[ A question that isn't, as he lifts an eyebrow and turns his focus back towards Wrathion's shifting form, barely illuminated by the flickering candlelight. The situation should read as dangerous, in some sense, but the only ache in his bones he can feel has another source entirely. ]
[He doesn't acknowledge Anduin's observation right away, allowing him to observe in silence just long enough to absorb the energy the other man's tension brings to the room. Though there was no visible evidence, he'd kept busy the past few evenings doing a bit of private research, prompted by their shared visit to the Down not so long ago.
His hand falls away from his cheek in favor of taking a sip from his tea.]
Not as busy as I might prefer, but...I have been pondering the application of some of my more rudimentary skills.
[Wrathion leans just slightly to reach for the rope, offering it to Anduin for closer observation. Indeed, the threads of the rope are woven smoothly enough to suggest that any attempt at prolonged tension would render it useless. The knots tied along it are tight enough to create points of friction, but not so tight that it would be frustrating to undo them.
Tying knots was not something he needed to learn. He knew well enough how to tie knots to keep others immobile without hurting them too badly. But other applications...]
[ Setting the tea aside to a nearby surface, Anduin frowns thoughtfully and takes hold of the brightly-colored rope, silken and soft against his fingers. He thinks he might have seen this in a few of the books he looked through upon his arrival, and seen mention of them used in the city for obvious purposes, but never had he seen it for himself.
Testing the tension with a soft tug, his curiosity presses to the fore. ]
In what way?
[ There's the obvious, of course. It's the particulars he's uncertain of. ]
[While Anduin pulls the rope taught, Wrathion's fingers lift to one of the knots in the center. He knows well enough that the other man trusts him -- as far as anyone wisely would. But submitting to being bound by rope in a compromising position...
Well. That is another level of trust, a different sort of trust. One that he is not so certain that Anduin is ready to offer him, in this state.]
My research suggests that practical application of knots upon points of pressure may...alleviate the mind of other burdens. But, seeing as I have not experienced it, I cannot say how true that is.
[ The answer comes more quickly than perhaps either of them were expecting it to. But the decision is immediately formed, as Wrathion lays his plan out as plainly as the rope in his hands.
Something in him surges at the prospect of having that control taken from him. Needs it. If what happened out there is any indication, then his own sense of self-control is unraveling. Maybe this will help.
And if there is anyone he trusts that completely with such things, someone who will understand the need implicitly, it is Wrathion.
Those blue eyes lift from the rope, and there's no hesitance in them. No faltering or fluster. ]
[Those glowing red eyes blink once, hard, in the brief silence that passes between them. It is the most surprise he will allow himself to show.
In truth, he had not expected it to be so easy to convince him, and it makes him suspicious when he practically trips over himself to accept. But, if this was the way of things, he could not afford to engage with that suspicion. It would spoil the act.]
Yes. And finish your tea.
[He takes the rope from the other man's hands and briefly wanders off back toward the kitchen area. One glass of tea would not be enough, particularly if Anduin had not been sleeping. He would return with a full bottle of water, and set it upon the nightstand with the rest before settling to untying some of the knots he had previously tied into the rope.]
[ The surprise doesn't go unnoticed -- he's spent too much time with him to not know what it means -- but it does go unremarked, as so many things do.
Instead Anduin simply nods, relinquishing the rope and reaching for the tea, now a little less likely to burn his tongue on the initial sip. It doesn't take long to drink it down, the spice of the ginger a welcome and familiar sharpness, reminiscent of better days. As so many of their comfort activities happen to be.
With the cup empty and Wrathion absent, he takes a moment to breathe, to attempt to relax and set aside the matters of the last few days as he begins to undress. Each button a worry he'll consider later, a responsibility he doesn't have to think of right now.
Instead, he lets them be replaced by the curiosity of what is to come, as each article is folded and set aside. He reaches for the tie at the nape of his neck, before halting and ultimately leaving it be.
Keeping his hair bound up is probably best, upon reflection. ]
[While Wrathion undoes the knots as he walks, he wanders down the hallway to extinguish some of the candles there, lowering the light in the room so that there is only the space he's chosen to be visible. Better to minimize distractions, and the idea that there are cares beyond the room -- for both of their sakes.
Each rope is carefully laid at the end of the bed once they are free of knots. Though they are all the same thickness, the lengths appear to vary -- and Wrathion has to study Anduin in his nakedness for a moment before he decides which one he will choose.]
You will tell me in no uncertain terms if I cause you discomfort. This will...take some trial and error.
[It is not a request. He is very aware that he could hurt Anduin while doing this, even if they aren't typically in the business of sharing those hurts with one another. The dragon was more accustomed to being heavy-handed than gentle, a trait that did not lend well to such a delicate and intimate act.
While he waits for Anduin to confirm, he shrugs off his robe.]
[ It's the same methodical care he would expect of Wrathion, through and through. That makes it easier to simply let him take the reins as he simply waits for instruction, skin warm in the room despite the lack of clothing, and without an iota of nerves to show for it. ]
There are words for that, as I understand.
[ Also something he's found during his initial research binge in the city. ]
[Wrathion chooses a longer rope after a moment of consideration, counting along its length and folding it over itself. He turns back around to Anduin and pauses briefly before reaching for one of his hands.
There is something oddly soft and intimate in how he lifts it to observe -- a studious furrow in his brow that would suggest he is searching for something to commit to memory, and not merely admiring how well his palm fits into his own even as he turns it over.]
Would you prefer to have your hands tied in front of you, or behind you?
[ Something unlikely to be said in the heat of the moment, the book had suggested. That suited as well as any, as neither of them wanted any reminder of Varian present for what they were about to do.
As ever, it's impossible not to notice the intense warmth that flows off of Wrathion, a reminder of the creature beneath the mortal facade. The same one he's entrusting so completely in the moment. ]
In front, if you would.
[ The less continued strain on his joints, the better, and there was a chance that keeping his hands bound behind him would upset his shoulder after a while. ]
[Wrathion's jaw shifts unpleasantly at the mention, but he offers a conciliatory nod anyway. It would serve the purpose.
Once he has measure of Anduin's temperature at rest, he pulls the rope up, offering it for support. He could just reach for the other hand and start tying, as instinct tells him. But this is meant to be a mutual act, and so he fights the urge to take complete control from him.]
Place your wrists. Make fists, turn them inward.
[And once he complies, Wrathion begins the slow process of layering the rope there, taking perhaps just a touch too much care in just how much length he leaves before he begins to loop it to reduce the other man's inability to move them.
After a moment's silence, he speaks.]
They tried to teach me some of this when I first arrived here. Naturally, I was resistant to the idea.
[ It's a strange feeling. The rope tightens and he can feel the tension holding taut, but not uncomfortably so. It feels...secure, the weight and pressure reassuring rather than alarming.
Doubtless Wrathion's care and attention do much to add to that feeling. He's seen him focused on something that interests him before, the way he cocks his head, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter than the meager flames around them. Anduin's mouth twitches softly upwards. ]
Naturally. It wasn't your idea first.
[ There, a flicker of something warm and amused beneath the exhaustion. ]
[The observation earns an equally bemused chuckle out of him, and he does not bother to deny it. How could he? It was nothing but true.]
I found the way they spoke of it to be juvenile -- speaking of the tying as if it were an art form, and not simply obscene. But I was still quite angry being torn from Azeroth.
[It is safe to say he has become open to having his opinion on this matter changed -- though it said nothing about his anger of being so far away from home. He continues to loop the rope in and out, through and outward until the double collumn tie is secure. Rather than asking Anduin to test it himself, Wrathion slips two fingers between the rope with ease, pressed against the pulse he had checked just a few moments ago.
He uses this to pull his knuckles up to his face where he gently presses his lips.]
[ The pattern the rope forms does have a certain artistry to it, he has to admit. The way the rope weaves and loops together in uniform lies almost begs to be touched, though a simple tug proves that no such thing would be possible in his current position.
Distracted for a moment, he almost starts when Wrathion tugs his hands higher, and oh. His stomach shouldn't twist itself tight with just a ghosting of his mouth, but it does, and he can feel a familiar sense of heat rushing up under his skin in response. Lucky that it's dark in here, at least.
Anduin quietly nods, lips tugging a little higher as he gives his fingers a brief, accommodating flex in demonstration.
Perhaps not. We will see if your opinion holds when I am through.
[And, as it turns out, this is the part that will require a bit of creative maneuvering. Of course, he could have made this easier upon the pair of them and tied the chest harness first -- but taking the sense of control away from Anduin had been part of the reason for this exercise, and so the hand-tying was important.
He slowly lowers the tie back at rest and takes a brief moment to reach for another set of rope, long enough for a continuous tie. And when Wrathion leans in, he does so with his usual heat.]
Lift your arms, if you please.
[When he does, the dragon leans in closer to wrap and loop the full length of the rope around the other man's torso, right at his diaphragm. It takes a few rotations to gather enough bulk to create the base of the harness, which leaves his face in abnormally close proximity to Anduin's.
[ He lifts his arms as instructed...and oh so carefully, lowers them over Wrathion's head, the ties at his wrists now resting at the nape of the dragon's neck with his bare arms resting against either shoulder.
Anduin doesn't attempt more than that. He doesn't lean in closer despite the ever-present desire to. No, he stays exactly where he is as he patiently allows Wrathion to continue to loop the rope around him, though there's a small spark of rebellious pride in his eyes just the same.
It becomes easy to focus on the rope instead of that lingering heat, after a while. The cool slither of the soft, textured material, and again that sense of constriction and restraint that almost feels akin to being held.
Well that just fits where the dragon is concerned, doesn't it? That this should be the closest thing to an embrace he should freely offer. ]
[It is impossible to avoid the small quirk of amusement in his lips when Anduin wrists his arms over his head. He allows it -- because, before too long, he won't be capable of it. Best to let him have it while it is available, seeing as it does not interfere with what he is doing.
He adjusts the placement of the rope and frowns a bit to himself as he glances down between what little space is available. And, ever the perfectionist, he decides that he does not like what he's begun.]
That won't do...
[He undoes the loop, but makes no attempt to remove himself from Anduin's imposed embrace, despite the fact that he has now begun to busy himself with refitting the bight in his hands. A moment later, he loops it around the other man's neck, and begins the process of tying four looped knots down the front of his chest.
He pauses when he reaches the bottom-most loop, a fifth knot that remains momentarily loose. Wrathion's eyes drift upwards to Anduin's just for a moment as he brings warm hands to his cock, gentle in how he maneuvers and threads him through the last knot he's made until it tucks underneath his balls.
He holds there for a few seconds, letting it sit between them until Wrathion breaks that unspoken barrier between them to press their lips together. It is an oddly romantic gesture, for him. But he cannot finish tying, in this position, and so it only lasts for a moment before he lowers himself to his knees and out from under Anduin's arm's to continue. With some patience, he will finish the knot there.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
un: theblackprince | text
You have been quiet.
[Which is probably the closest message of support he could possibly expect from Wrathion -- acknowledgement that he is watching him.]
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Many things have needed my attention, as of late.
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Perhaps you would care for tea?
[The hour is late -- it poses some risk that someone will grow suspicious if he is spotted. But he suspects a bit of discrete rebellion might be exactly what Anduin needs right now.]
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That would be much appreciated.
I should be there shortly.
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I will leave the door open.
[And true to his word, the door will be slightly ajar when Anduin comes calling. Already, the scent of ginger root has made its way into the hall.
When he hears footsteps and the sound of hinges creaking, he lifts his head from his task to glance in Anduin's direction. The room is exceptionally dark without the light of day filtering between the curtains and only candles to illuminate the space.
Vaguely aware that Anduin's low-light vision is not as good as his own, he had taken the liberty of lighting a few extra candles near the entrance so that he might have a few moments to adjust to it before finding his way over to him. He wears only a pair of dark silken pants loose around his hips and a robe of similar material to match.
He holds a warm cup out to him when he approaches.]
Take care -- I may have gone a bit overboard with heat.
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It doesn't take long to find Wrathion, those luminous eyes a dead giveaway even in the dark, and it won't take much for the dragon to sense something amiss with his friend. Tension in the priest's frame, shadows under his eyes from pronounced lack of sleep over the last few days.
He still murmurs his thanks for the tea, but even without the friendly warning he seems to be holding onto it more for its warmth than the temptation of drink, fingers gripping the cup stiffly. ]
I wasn't sure if you actually meant tea this time, to be honest.
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Is that not part of the appeal?
[He gestures with his head, inviting him further into the apartment. It looks slightly more lived in than Anduin might last remember, even with the low light. There are signs of routine alongside signs of comfort, at least one outfit draped over a chair rather than hung away neatly. The armoire, which had been closed during every previous visit, was slightly ajar and a coil of silken red rope was half-draped over the nightstand. A collection of different knots were tied along the length of it -- he had obviously been keeping busy with whatever project it was before the priest's arrival.]
Besides, if my intentions were always so clear, I imagine someone less understanding might take notice of the hour you've come calling.
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[ His jaw tightens, swiftly undoing whatever softness the brief affectionate touch might have bought him. There are words he has for those 'less understanding' sorts, but it's literally painful to dwell on his thoughts on the matter for too long, decidedly unkind in nature.
So he doesn't dwell. He longs not to.
Instead his attention drifts towards the changes he can see in the room. The open armoire. The rope he's never seen before, which looks more decorative than anything practical. ]
You've been busy.
[ A question that isn't, as he lifts an eyebrow and turns his focus back towards Wrathion's shifting form, barely illuminated by the flickering candlelight. The situation should read as dangerous, in some sense, but the only ache in his bones he can feel has another source entirely. ]
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His hand falls away from his cheek in favor of taking a sip from his tea.]
Not as busy as I might prefer, but...I have been pondering the application of some of my more rudimentary skills.
[Wrathion leans just slightly to reach for the rope, offering it to Anduin for closer observation. Indeed, the threads of the rope are woven smoothly enough to suggest that any attempt at prolonged tension would render it useless. The knots tied along it are tight enough to create points of friction, but not so tight that it would be frustrating to undo them.
Tying knots was not something he needed to learn. He knew well enough how to tie knots to keep others immobile without hurting them too badly. But other applications...]
Perhaps you might care to assist my endeavors.
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Testing the tension with a soft tug, his curiosity presses to the fore. ]
In what way?
[ There's the obvious, of course. It's the particulars he's uncertain of. ]
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[May as well just put it out there.]
I would require your trust. Moreso than usual.
[While Anduin pulls the rope taught, Wrathion's fingers lift to one of the knots in the center. He knows well enough that the other man trusts him -- as far as anyone wisely would. But submitting to being bound by rope in a compromising position...
Well. That is another level of trust, a different sort of trust. One that he is not so certain that Anduin is ready to offer him, in this state.]
My research suggests that practical application of knots upon points of pressure may...alleviate the mind of other burdens. But, seeing as I have not experienced it, I cannot say how true that is.
no subject
[ The answer comes more quickly than perhaps either of them were expecting it to. But the decision is immediately formed, as Wrathion lays his plan out as plainly as the rope in his hands.
Something in him surges at the prospect of having that control taken from him. Needs it. If what happened out there is any indication, then his own sense of self-control is unraveling. Maybe this will help.
And if there is anyone he trusts that completely with such things, someone who will understand the need implicitly, it is Wrathion.
Those blue eyes lift from the rope, and there's no hesitance in them. No faltering or fluster. ]
Should I undress?
no subject
In truth, he had not expected it to be so easy to convince him, and it makes him suspicious when he practically trips over himself to accept. But, if this was the way of things, he could not afford to engage with that suspicion. It would spoil the act.]
Yes. And finish your tea.
[He takes the rope from the other man's hands and briefly wanders off back toward the kitchen area. One glass of tea would not be enough, particularly if Anduin had not been sleeping. He would return with a full bottle of water, and set it upon the nightstand with the rest before settling to untying some of the knots he had previously tied into the rope.]
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Instead Anduin simply nods, relinquishing the rope and reaching for the tea, now a little less likely to burn his tongue on the initial sip. It doesn't take long to drink it down, the spice of the ginger a welcome and familiar sharpness, reminiscent of better days. As so many of their comfort activities happen to be.
With the cup empty and Wrathion absent, he takes a moment to breathe, to attempt to relax and set aside the matters of the last few days as he begins to undress. Each button a worry he'll consider later, a responsibility he doesn't have to think of right now.
Instead, he lets them be replaced by the curiosity of what is to come, as each article is folded and set aside. He reaches for the tie at the nape of his neck, before halting and ultimately leaving it be.
Keeping his hair bound up is probably best, upon reflection. ]
no subject
Each rope is carefully laid at the end of the bed once they are free of knots. Though they are all the same thickness, the lengths appear to vary -- and Wrathion has to study Anduin in his nakedness for a moment before he decides which one he will choose.]
You will tell me in no uncertain terms if I cause you discomfort. This will...take some trial and error.
[It is not a request. He is very aware that he could hurt Anduin while doing this, even if they aren't typically in the business of sharing those hurts with one another. The dragon was more accustomed to being heavy-handed than gentle, a trait that did not lend well to such a delicate and intimate act.
While he waits for Anduin to confirm, he shrugs off his robe.]
no subject
There are words for that, as I understand.
[ Also something he's found during his initial research binge in the city. ]
no subject
[Wrathion chooses a longer rope after a moment of consideration, counting along its length and folding it over itself. He turns back around to Anduin and pauses briefly before reaching for one of his hands.
There is something oddly soft and intimate in how he lifts it to observe -- a studious furrow in his brow that would suggest he is searching for something to commit to memory, and not merely admiring how well his palm fits into his own even as he turns it over.]
Would you prefer to have your hands tied in front of you, or behind you?
no subject
[ Something unlikely to be said in the heat of the moment, the book had suggested. That suited as well as any, as neither of them wanted any reminder of Varian present for what they were about to do.
As ever, it's impossible not to notice the intense warmth that flows off of Wrathion, a reminder of the creature beneath the mortal facade. The same one he's entrusting so completely in the moment. ]
In front, if you would.
[ The less continued strain on his joints, the better, and there was a chance that keeping his hands bound behind him would upset his shoulder after a while. ]
no subject
Once he has measure of Anduin's temperature at rest, he pulls the rope up, offering it for support. He could just reach for the other hand and start tying, as instinct tells him. But this is meant to be a mutual act, and so he fights the urge to take complete control from him.]
Place your wrists. Make fists, turn them inward.
[And once he complies, Wrathion begins the slow process of layering the rope there, taking perhaps just a touch too much care in just how much length he leaves before he begins to loop it to reduce the other man's inability to move them.
After a moment's silence, he speaks.]
They tried to teach me some of this when I first arrived here. Naturally, I was resistant to the idea.
no subject
Doubtless Wrathion's care and attention do much to add to that feeling. He's seen him focused on something that interests him before, the way he cocks his head, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter than the meager flames around them. Anduin's mouth twitches softly upwards. ]
Naturally. It wasn't your idea first.
[ There, a flicker of something warm and amused beneath the exhaustion. ]
no subject
I found the way they spoke of it to be juvenile -- speaking of the tying as if it were an art form, and not simply obscene. But I was still quite angry being torn from Azeroth.
[It is safe to say he has become open to having his opinion on this matter changed -- though it said nothing about his anger of being so far away from home. He continues to loop the rope in and out, through and outward until the double collumn tie is secure. Rather than asking Anduin to test it himself, Wrathion slips two fingers between the rope with ease, pressed against the pulse he had checked just a few moments ago.
He uses this to pull his knuckles up to his face where he gently presses his lips.]
Be certain to wriggle them, every now and then.
no subject
[ The pattern the rope forms does have a certain artistry to it, he has to admit. The way the rope weaves and loops together in uniform lies almost begs to be touched, though a simple tug proves that no such thing would be possible in his current position.
Distracted for a moment, he almost starts when Wrathion tugs his hands higher, and oh. His stomach shouldn't twist itself tight with just a ghosting of his mouth, but it does, and he can feel a familiar sense of heat rushing up under his skin in response. Lucky that it's dark in here, at least.
Anduin quietly nods, lips tugging a little higher as he gives his fingers a brief, accommodating flex in demonstration.
All fine, so far. ]
cw: rope bondage
[And, as it turns out, this is the part that will require a bit of creative maneuvering. Of course, he could have made this easier upon the pair of them and tied the chest harness first -- but taking the sense of control away from Anduin had been part of the reason for this exercise, and so the hand-tying was important.
He slowly lowers the tie back at rest and takes a brief moment to reach for another set of rope, long enough for a continuous tie. And when Wrathion leans in, he does so with his usual heat.]
Lift your arms, if you please.
[When he does, the dragon leans in closer to wrap and loop the full length of the rope around the other man's torso, right at his diaphragm. It takes a few rotations to gather enough bulk to create the base of the harness, which leaves his face in abnormally close proximity to Anduin's.
Only just out of natural reach.]
no subject
Anduin doesn't attempt more than that. He doesn't lean in closer despite the ever-present desire to. No, he stays exactly where he is as he patiently allows Wrathion to continue to loop the rope around him, though there's a small spark of rebellious pride in his eyes just the same.
It becomes easy to focus on the rope instead of that lingering heat, after a while. The cool slither of the soft, textured material, and again that sense of constriction and restraint that almost feels akin to being held.
Well that just fits where the dragon is concerned, doesn't it? That this should be the closest thing to an embrace he should freely offer. ]
no subject
He adjusts the placement of the rope and frowns a bit to himself as he glances down between what little space is available. And, ever the perfectionist, he decides that he does not like what he's begun.]
That won't do...
[He undoes the loop, but makes no attempt to remove himself from Anduin's imposed embrace, despite the fact that he has now begun to busy himself with refitting the bight in his hands. A moment later, he loops it around the other man's neck, and begins the process of tying four looped knots down the front of his chest.
He pauses when he reaches the bottom-most loop, a fifth knot that remains momentarily loose. Wrathion's eyes drift upwards to Anduin's just for a moment as he brings warm hands to his cock, gentle in how he maneuvers and threads him through the last knot he's made until it tucks underneath his balls.
He holds there for a few seconds, letting it sit between them until Wrathion breaks that unspoken barrier between them to press their lips together. It is an oddly romantic gesture, for him. But he cannot finish tying, in this position, and so it only lasts for a moment before he lowers himself to his knees and out from under Anduin's arm's to continue. With some patience, he will finish the knot there.]
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