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sunsetmondays ([personal profile] sunsetmondays) wrote2015-02-09 05:31 pm
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Here's To Us (And Never Saying Goodbye)

Even though there's a pretty darn good chance that canon's gonna nullify most of this stuff at some point in the future, have some mildly feelsy Thog and Moren friendship stuffs.


With an echoing click, the clock struck one, hanging lopsided on the wall. Inside the grimy Meadshire bar, barely a soul stirred. Outside, crickets chirped and artifical trees grinded in the wind. The night was placid and the stares shone clear above the coastal settlement. Despite this, most of the town had long since hidden away in their lodgings, content to sleep away the night.

Although the distinct lack of patrons wasn't unusual for what Thog thought to be Meadshire's most bearable attraction, this night It felt especially lonely. Not even the single company that sat beside him seemed to fill the emptiness that had settled in his chest. Over the past few days, a fog seemed to have settled around him, enveloping whatever little enjoyment remained on this godsforsaken island.

He wished he had the luxury of wondering why the pleasant summer days seemed colder, the sun holding less warmth and light, but no. He knew exactly what had struck this bitter knife into his gut: held by the hands of the very man that sat beside him with his artfully mused straw-coloured hair and striking grin.

Moren.

He could barely believe it, but after all this time they'd fared together, one of the very few people he had come to call 'friend' was leaving this shithole - leaving without him.

'Competent' was what came to mind at the mention of his name. Of the three people he'd dared to give that label, Thog was more than glad that Moren sat among their ranks. The man was a fighter: brave, confident, intelligent. He was well and truly far above every other half-wit that landed in this hellhole. And for all Meadshire #7 and the rest of the Alarani empire had dragged them through, Moren still held empathy close to his heart - something that had long since been drained from Thog's battered body.

To say that he greatly admired the man was more than an understatement. But now, the very precipice that Thog's life balanced on was crumbling beneath him. In his mind, he knew this day was coming, but he'd been determined to push the note to the back of his mind where it was too-easily forgotten. He didn't want Moren to leave. For long enough, he could pretend that he wasn't going to. But now the time is up. Moren's ship came tomorrow and there's nothing he can do.

"Come with me," Moren said, looking up from his glass of cheap Meadshire booze.

Just like every other time he had been asked, Thog shook his head. "I can't."

"Why? What's keeping you here? We both know how much you hate this place." "You know why, Moren." Thog sighed and downed the rest of his glass, barely feeling the burn.

"No, I don't. Please, just tell me. Whatever it is, I'm sure I can handle it," Moren pleaded with his sparkling blue eyes.

"I just- I can't, okay." Thog gripped his empty glass, staring into the dregs at the bottom. The bar melded back into an eerie silence save the ticking of the clock. Each settled in a realm of their own thoughts, reliving the past and pondering the future.

Thog skimmed over memories bathed in heartache to arrive at the image of a contract, the ink still to dry; he swore by this point his veins contained more ink than blood. There's secrecy and doubt entrenched in the feeling of his own self-betrayal and he could barely ignore the stinging in the corners of his eyes that threated to well at the memory.

Thog blinked away the train of thought and looked up to see Moren finishing off his own glass, forehead creased in thought. He watched him glance at the clock then glance at the door. Too much time had been lost already, but still it wasn't enough. Thog's fingers twitched and briefly, he wondered if after tonight he'd ever see his friend again. Moren bit his lip, glancing at the door again and looking as if he was about to speak.

"One more round?" Thog interrupted.

Moren stared down at his glass and pondered the question before meeting Thog's gaze with his signature smile. "Sure, why not."

Another round was ordered and the pair fell into relaxed conversation. It was easy, familiar - the kind of conversation you'd melt so thoroughly into that time would cease to exist. Soon enough, one more round became two, then three. Alcohol fed the conversation with a pleasant buzz as inhibitions melted, making way for bountiful charisma. Great memories were relived through vivid storytelling - the best of times and the worse.

It served as a reminder of how much they cared for each other, even after all that they'd been through. For as much as the other would be missed, their memories were well worth celebrating and the future might not seem so dim. At the very least, they could still exchange letters and maybe one day, fate would favour them and they'd meet again.

With reminiscing sorrow, Moren raised his glass. "Here's to us," he announced, swaying in his seat.

"To us!" Thog echoed, lips curling into a sad smile.

Last call past, clock ticking well into four am and the duo finished their drinks. Laughing at some inane joke, they stumbled out of the bar and into the sombre starlight, already beginning to warm with the new day.

After regaining his composure, Moren placed his hands on Thog's shoulders and looked him in the eye. His silver necklace glittered under the starlight and the corner of his mouth twitched into his usual charming simper. Despite the confidence held in his expression, his eyes crinkled with uncertainty. Before Thog could even ask, he shook away whatever passing thought he held and spoke. "I'll miss you, old buddy."

"I'll miss you too."

~ ~ ~