sixthiterationlogs | [MINGLE] Saints & Sinners Masquerade

[MINGLE] Saints & Sinners Masquerade

WHERE: Corn field next to the inn
WHEN: 31 October, all day and night
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Please warn as appropriate in your subject lines
NOTES: Please make sure you have read and understand the event details! If you have questions, drop them here. RECOMMENDED BUT NOT REQUIRED: Put your SCRUBS COLOR in your OTA subject line for folks doing bingo. Time your OTA for the harvest feast, the masquerade, or both. Costume matches and details for folks who did not get matched are here.

This morning, our intrepid villagers awoke to a surprise of the nicer kind: A bundle of clothing left at the foot of their bed, tied with a bow. There is also a note: Put on your new outfit and join the festivities in the corn field next to the inn.

You may be thinking, what corn field next to the inn? The one that sprung up fully-mature overnight, of course.

In the middle of the field, villagers will find an autumn feast: Tables piled with harvest time food and drink, warm and rustic decorations, the day's sunshine fending off any chill in the air.

Tuck in and enjoy, villagers, but take note: Things often look different in the dark, and you might be one of them.

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"It is a difference of culture, I suppose," Altaïr answered, his thoughts having hung on the mention of his hood. "Where I am from, men and women both cover their hair. It is a private thing, given only to spouses or the closest family. When I arrived here without any sort of cowl or ghutrah, it felt strange. The last to see me without my hood was my son."

It was after he'd said all of that that Dorian's mention of his eyes trickled into his awareness. Stunning, he'd said - which made him think. He'd had comments on the colour of his eyes. Most found them unsettling. Even Maria had mentioned that they were on the edge of unnatural. "I... thank you for the compliment," he decided on, eventually, still trying to decide just which comment was more true.

"Or practice. Perhaps he is...overly large, or stands out in some other way that discredits his ability to hide in shadow." But the cultural trait Altaïr mentioned diverted his attention and his eyebrows rose with interest. "Your hair is...a private thing? Interesting..."

He was pleased with Altaïr's response, though. His eyes were beautiful, after all. "And only for a spouse or the closest family? Does that mean you keep the hood on if you choose to share your bed, or...?"

Altaïr shook his head, waving the idea away with one hand. "Of course not. That is a different sort of privacy. And it would get in the way." That was a simple matter of truth. Hair was intimate - and there was only small intimacy greater than sharing a bed with someone.

But then, grateful of the shadow of the hood, he looked at Dorian, beginning to see - or beginning to suppose - what the man was hinting toward. Doubt was still heavy, but... he wondered.

"Oh good." His lips teased into a suggestive smile as his eyes followed the angle of Alaïr's chin as it disappeared beneath that hood. "What use is a hood in the bedroom? A poor handle, to be sure."

Forward? Certainly, but Dorian was a bold man, and lust he could recognize, even muted. It was affection that was difficult to note and even more difficult to stomach. This? Seduction? That he could handle.

A poor handle Dorian said. And those were the words that truly made it clear. After nearly forty years of mourning, after great loss and slow recovery, he was... desired. And the thought struck him oddly. True, he had seen others here looking at him, but it was this man who actually made him realise that, here, at least, others saw him as a person they wished to...

Altaïr was more grateful for the hood then than he had been before. He didn't doubt his cheeks had reddened, and he was glad he hadn't been attempting to eat or drink as he was almost absolute in the idea that he would've found himself choking. It was such an oddity. He could count the number of partners he'd had on less fingers than his two hands claimed - and none at all after Maria's death.

In fact, as his life had gone on, age had taken its toll. Certain things had simply stopped happening. But his body had changed. Perhaps now it would. An odd realisation to have, in and of itself.

"I- I see," he managed after a few heartbeats, his thoughts still whirling. "I am... flattered, I believe."

"You believe?" He chuckled, a low and sultry sound lost in his throat and only bearly audible as he leaned toward Altaïr slightly, mischief and desire glittering in his olive eyes. It had been some time since he'd had occasion to flirt with such a beautiful man (the Bull didn't count, much as he adored the lummox, there were feelings there that were confusing and at times overwhelming. Dorian understood the implications of this particular conversation), at the very least without attachment, and Altaïr was nothing if not pretty.

"Oh my, I suppose I'll have to try harder, then."

There was no mistaking this. And he--

He caught his breath. "There is no need," he said, holding up a hand. "It may have been more than forty years since I laid with anyone. Longer than that since I laid with another man. But I recognise what it is you mean, Dorian."

And while he was a little unsure - would this younger body work as it should? He was vastly out of practice. Were there even proper supplies for such a thing? - there was enough of his mind devoted to the thought that he could likely use a bit of ease to his tension that laying with Dorian made a sort of sense.

That was why he followed his previous words with, "I accept," and had to hope he wouldn't let his new friend down.

He laughed at Altaïr's fumbling admissions, but it was an charmed sound. Oh, this one was delightful and no mistake.

"You accept? Should I feel honored, or more tasked with a reducation?" His eyes moved over Altaïr's form once more, lips curling in a pleased smirk.

"Either way, I believe I'm the gifted one."

But Altaïr shook his head, a hint of rueful smile on his lips. "I am afraid that this may be an offer you will regret making. I have been honest in how long it's been. You may spend your time reminding me of how it is that all of this works."

That didn't stop him, though, from reaching out to cup Dorian's shoulder with one hand before guiding him to stand beside him. If they were going to be one another's company tonight, then it made sense for them to remain close - complete with Altaïr's arm around his waist.

The only indication Dorian made that the closeness and open contact set him ill at ease was a tenseness that crept into his shoulders at the embrace. So many here were so open about such things, and none gathered seemed to care in the least. There were no stares, no whispers behind cupped hands, no damning gazes.

He tried to shake off the tension by making a joke, and he was happy to note he was marginally successful. "I happen to be a splendid teacher to attentive students, Ser Mentor. Will you submit for the evening?"

Perhaps others wouldn't have noticed - but others weren't Altaïr. He had learned, had trained, to read the signs in others, to see how they reacted in different circumstances. And when Dorian tensed, even slightly, at being touched, Altaïr shifted, moving his arm from around him to stand at his side instead. "My apologies," he said, though it made him wonder. If he had already erred with something so simple, how did it bode for the rest of the evening?

A small shake of his head and he exhaled. "Perhaps this is not the wisest of ideas. I have already given you discomfort in my closeness, and I admit uncertainty if I will improve."

A wince and a small exhale of breath, and Dorian turned to face Altaïr, olive eyes seeking his in the darkness of that cowl, frowning slightly.

"I meant no offense, you silly man. Only...such things are..." He looked away, then, downward slightly, as though seeking words to explain that continued to escape him. "...frowned upon in my homeland. They're never spoken of, and Maker forbid they occur in public. I..." He breathed a steadying breath and looked back up. "Am unaccustomed to public display."

The realisation dawned on him and he exhaled, nodding his understanding. "I see," he said. "It was similar in the lands surrounding my home. Both the Saracens and the Christians would sooner see a man dead than to allow him to lie with another man. One side preferred hanging. The other, stoning. Within the walls of Masyaf, it mattered little. Outside them, the risk was great."

Altaïr shook his head. "I suppose I'd grown used to being within the Citadel. I seldom left within the last years of my life."

Not one to remain comfortable discussing such sensitive topics for long without inserting some sort of flippant humor to dissipate the intensity, Dorian laughed after a moment, raising an eyebrow. "Oh my, hanging or stoning? However shall I choose?"

He shook his head, though. "I suppose, then, it's fortunate neither of us need worry about the Christians or the Saracens."

"Very fortunate indeed," he agreed, though, after another glance around the gathering, he continued, "and though I crossed your taboo before, I will admit to being a private man as it comes to further action. Perhaps, if we are to continue, we should find a place more secluded."

"Indeed." Dorian himself was a very private person, and it served to reason he'd want to go somewhere far more private, himself, but with the Bull and Alex at home...

"Where is it you've been staying?"

A good idea, and Altaïr nodded to hear it. "I have a dwelling of my own. It is a distance away, but I live there alone." It would be hard to have more privacy than that. In fact, with a light touch to Dorian's arm, he began to lead him in that direction, gaining a bit more confidence at the thought of leaving the gathering behind.

When a handsome man taps your arm and suggests with no words you should be following him, you comply and Dorian did so, glad to hear the assassin lived alone and wondering what sorts of refresher courses he'd require before the night was through.

Dorian didn't mind the lessons, of course.

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[MINGLE] Saints & Sinners Masquerade

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