Setting the Stage

[evantuality]

His time with the Audentes had changed the course of Evan's life. He imagined he was amongst a remarkable majority of ex-recruits in that regard, and in retrospect it was unsurprising, but at first returning home had been a shocking readjustment. He had withdrawn from the semester that he had been halfway through, not because he could not recall the information his classes had been imparting -- that was a state that could be fixed, after all -- but because the very structure of school had thrown him. He had left campus, he had gone home and told his parents what had happened: they had been furious and fascinated and shocked and relieved in turn, and Evan could sympathize. In the end he'd spend six months at home.

It had been a boon. Dropping out had meant reapplying, and reapplying had made Evan shrug and send applications to other universities, pie-in-the-sky places he hadn't considered before. It'd been his time with ALASTAIR that he ultimately credited, therefore, his acceptance to one of the schools tied for the top of the pile in comp sci undergraduate programs.

From there on out, it'd been much harder to miss his time away from home, as the program was ferociously exacting, even for his standards. Ultimately the Audentes never faded from his mind entirely, but they settled squarely into past, not present, and his pangs for his friends there faded as he slowly accepted the unlikelihood of ever seeing any of them again.

By the beginning of his second year at the new university, he had settled back into the realities of life on Earth entirely. Student housing, cafeterias, lectures, labs and all extra hours spent studying were routines that became easy once more (although perhaps he got a little more involved in extracurriculars than he otherwise would have). The big brick student residence halls, with the towers on the corners, had been built a hundred years ago and renovated in the eighties. It had been cutting-edge then, with whiteboards and two fireplaces in each common area, and brown carpet all in the hallways. The radiators worked but they made noise in the winter, the beds were narrow, the desks in the bedrooms tall and solid and terribly dated. It became home to Evan with ease, even having to put up with a roommate again. Campus was expansive and riddled with enough to keep him occupied all hours of the day, even the rare few he didn't spend on schoolwork.

Life carried on.

Comments

[strikingtwice]

"What do you mean, from my perspective?" Meallan questions, turning his head to give Evan a funny look but not quite willing to get up from the bed just yet. It's something he feels a bit bad, aware it's not really Evan's bed, but it's comfortable and he stretches out catlike against it, content with really sinking into the softness.

"It's been about a month or so, I think? I haven't kept an exactly count... for a few reasons." The last part is a touch evasive, though he hopes Evan won't guess why and put it down to missions and time differences on different worlds.

Truthfully, a large part was also due to how Meallan had retreated a fair amount to begin with, not wanting to dwell on how long it had been since Evan had left and preferring to throw himself into anything he could as a distraction. It had worked, more or less, but he didn't want to dwell on that time much either.

[evantuality]

There's something charming about Mel curled up like a cat on the bed, and Evan has to briefly fight the distraction of the sight. There is, after all, rather a more pressing matter or two at hand. In fact when Mel sketches out his time frame, Evan's stomach sinks a little.

"A month." He looks the man over again, taking note of all of the details that are strangely the same, the absence of the subtle signs of time passing. Mel does look strangely exact, but he'd written that off as the vagaries of memory. His expression shades serious, almost grave.

"Mel," he starts, pulling in a breath, wondering if there's a delicate way to phrase this, and deciding there probably isn't, "I came home from Oska two years ago."

[strikingtwice]

"Hmm?" Meallan makes an effort to sit up and pay attention as Evan speaks, a lingering smile on his lips that slowly fades as Evan explains why he's troubled by what Meallan had said.

"Two years?" he echoes, staring at Evan uncertainly. There'd been changes to Evan's face yes, but nothing that had made him think it had been that long. His throats works a moment as he thinks about how much time that was, how much could happen, and finally he manages a small, uncertain laugh.

"No wonder you were so surprised to see me. You must have put all of ALASTAIR and the rest of us behind you."

[evantuality]

Evan looks down, his grin a sheepish, slightly sad little thing. "I mean, in that I went on with my studies, yeah," he admits to Mel. "But not... not that I've forgotten any of you, or what it was like."

Swinging his gaze back up and across to the elf, he's finding old feelings are pushing up from the depths, things that he had in truth tried to put behind him. There's a simmering fervency behind his sternum, and he leans forward with real earnestness. "Hell, Mel, I've missed it. It was -- I mean, it was crazy, it was a whirlwind, but -- there's nothing like that here. I miss being a part of a team."

He searches the elf's face, not sure what he's looking for, his urgency deflating a little bit. "I've missed getting to be honest with people." It had chafed badly to go back into the closet once he'd gotten home, having had a taste of what it was like to have a place where he could unabashedly be who he was.

[strikingtwice]

Meallan hesitates as Evan admits that he'd been trying to focus on his studies, wondering how much he'd changed simply by turning up here, and then the younger man admits as well that he'd missed being part of a team, of being honest about who and what he was and that's enough for him.

He rises from the bed immediately and crosses to Evan's dropping down by his side and pulling him into a fierce hug.

"I've missed you as well," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "Even though it wasn't as long for me, when you left... I knew I should be happy but all I could think was how much I missed you. In a way, I'm glad that I was sent here. It means I can see you again."

[evantuality]

The physical contact has once again come around to being strange to Evan, in its frequency and sincere quality. But this time, this time, he knows to lean into it, he remembers how much he'd missed the tactility and how surprised he'd been by the depth of that missing, when he'd been sent home. He twists to face into the hug and wraps his arms around Mel too, squeezing the other man tight, feeling lithe muscle and the deep warmth of another body, and feeling a rush of pleasure for it.

Mel's words infuse him with a similar warmth, a confusing and heady mix that he's not quite ready to immediately start dissecting. He gives the elf an extra squeeze for the admission.

And then a thought occurs to him, and the younger man laughs. "You must have been so pleased to get your arm back," he says, not letting go of his friend yet. "This is a solid fifty percent more hug than I remember."

[strikingtwice]

A snort of amusement escapes him and Meallan squeezes Evan tighter for a moment, a reassurance to the part of him that had been so afraid that he'd never get the chance to see the other man again. That he'd be alone again.

Then he finally lets go and sits back, his eyes a touch brighter with emotion, though his face is all smiles.

"And you're just as warm as I remember as well," he teases. "Surely you must be popular on winter nights."

Settling back down, Meallan curls companionably against Evan's side, apparently content to stay there for the time being. At least until something else catches his attention.

"So... what do we do now?" he says at last. "Are your parents coming here?"

[evantuality]

Evan wrinkles his nose in a grin and snorts for the sake of Mel's flirty little tease. As the elf settles in, though, he shrugs, watches with pleasure as Mel gets comfortable.

"They may, they may not. I think it depends on whatever solution they've come up with. I should get a text from my mom sometime," he says, instinctively checking his pocket for his phone. It's still there, hasn't buzzed yet. "They might just send us whatever glamour they come up, rather than deliver it in person.

"What," he asks the elf, grinning, "are you hoping to meet them?"

[strikingtwice]

"Aren't I allowed to?" he returns, meeting the grin with a challenging eyebrow of his own. "Maybe I'd like to meet the man who was very dedicated in wooing your mother."

He wriggles his eyebrows and grins widely, then bursts into laughter and drops back to sprawl out as much as he could on Evan's bed. "The look on your face..."

It reminds him a good deal of their first conversation and he hopes Evan still remembers it as well, even if it has been much longer for him. Maybe it's too much to think he would remember Meallan that well, but he clung to the thought anyway.

After a moment to let his amusement die down again, Meallan glances up at Evan curiously. "So... you study things here? And do you work as well?"

[evantuality]

It had been a long time since Evan had thought about that conversation, but Mel's delight draws it back out of the depths. Evan exclaims, mock-embarrassed, and then grins down at Mel as he flops. It shocks him, a little, how easy this is, how his bubbling fondness for his old ALASTAIR compatriot has washed back over him so easily that it feels like no time has passed since he last saw Mel at all.

He pulls his feet up onto the bed, scooting backwards to lean against the wall the bed butts up against. Crossing his arms over his knees to finish the companionable tableau, he warns Mel, "don't you go asking them awkward questions about their romantic life. I'll never live it down."

To the elf's actual question, though, he shakes his head. "During the school year I study full time. I'm lucky; my parents can help me finance school, though I do work internships during the summer breaks. They don't pay beans but it's more for the experience than the money."

[strikingtwice]

"That just sounds more tempting if you ask me," Meallan returns with a teasing grin. "Something they'll remember and remind you of, even after..."

He goes quiet, not liking the reminder that he'll have to leave as soon as he can manage. As much as he enjoys being with Evan, there's nothing to ensure that time isn't passing in Thedas now he's here, and the idea that he might not have a world to return to, or at least not one he knows, is a sudden, heavy weight on his chest.

He's quiet as Evan speaks, nodding but not listening as well as he might otherwise. It's not fair to Evan to tune out, but it's a sudden and sobering thought for Meallan to think that he doesn't know how time will work in Thedas compared to Evan's world as opposed to with the Audentes. There he could afford to indulge his own whims more, now he might not have that luxury.

It's not something he wants Evan to worry about considering he's back in his own world and life now, so Meallan smiles and sits back against the wall as well, putting a bit more distance between them.

"And here I come in and distract you from all of that," he says with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Evan. Hopefully I won't disrupt your life too much and I can find a way back quickly."

[evantuality]

Evan stares, fixing his gaze on that apologetic smile. It's not a look he likes on Mel's face, and he examines it, trying to sort out the why of that.

"Don't apologize for being here," he tells the elf, reaching out to squeeze the other man's shoulder. Tactility is Mel's go-to, right? Stands to reason it'd offer him comfort, too. "Don't. There's got to be some reason you're here, and that's more important than any coursework. I can re-take courses if I need to -- but I won't need to," he hurries to assure Mel before he starts to worry, "I've been handling the workload just fine, I can handle a little more on top." That is a bit of academic bravado on his part; it is a deeply demanding course load, but... he'll manage. He will manage.

He searches the elf's expression, again uncertain what he's mining for. "Besides, I mean, that aside... I'm just glad I get to see you again."

[strikingtwice]

Tactility is something Meallan has always been comfortable with, craves in a way since the separation from his clan and his remaining family had meant that much of the casual contact he was used to as a daily part of life had vanished. He leans into the touch a bit, pressing against Evan's hand despite himself, but withdraws again a moment later.

"And I am glad to see you as well, Evan," he says hoping the other man doesn't think he regrets that part of all of this. "I really am. I just... I wish there was less to worry about and that I could just enjoy being here, with you. Not worrying about what people might think or how it might effect you or anything like that."

[evantuality]

There is a strange pragmatism with which Evan has been confronting the situation, one with its roots all the way back in how he'd dealt with crises among the Audentes. It's the same way they'd all dealt with floods, fires, chasms, angry aliens -- with a laser focus on the present and damn the consequences to be coped with later -- and it jolts him a little to find that old pattern, to discover he's applying it to his friend. But there's a utility there, isn't there?

He straightens, looks at Mel, shakes his head. "Look," he tells the elf, not unkindly, "it is what it is, and worrying about how it'll shake out in the end is something you can do later, if you really want to." He flashes Mel a grin, "Once we've got our ducks more in a row, really."

Inspiration strikes and he offers up a handily necessary diversion. "In the meantime we should work on your cover story. I've got a couple of ideas but they might need some explaining."

[strikingtwice]

Meallan blinks, a touch surprised at how rational and collected Evan is being, and nods slowly. He can see the definite wisdom in Evan's words, but it strikes him that the other man may have matured in his two years different in ways that Meallan mightn't be fully aware of.

He finds he's both curious to find out more and uncertain if he'll get the chance or if he'll have to leave before he can.

But Evan is right, it's not something to dwell on now, and he sighs and nods acceptance. "All right, so what exactly should I tell people then? Especially if your parents aren't going to be able to come up with something to help hide me immediately. People are going to wonder about the ears sooner or later."

[evantuality]

"People are already wondering about the ears," Evan tells him, wry. "Anyone who's seen you has wondered about the ears. Thankfully I think we can capitalize on some assumptions, there."

For a moment the young man is antsy, shifting to a sit where his feet are curled under him and frowning. Exactly how much does he lampshade the suggestions he's going to make, here? But it doesn't take him long to decide, and he gives Mel a forthright but apologetic look. "Forgive me, but any backstory we choose is going to have to paint you as a bit odd. It's not subtle that you don't know the norms here, and I figure that it's safer to, to come up with a reason for that than to try and give you the world's densest crash course here." He grimaces sympathy. "I think it's going to have to be a lie with a couple of layers, too, but we'll try and keep it the least complicated..."

He looks down with the face of someone who's fitting the pieces together in his mind, but quickly enough looks back up. "That's the part we'll address first. I think we should say you were raised in one of the anti-technology religious sects, like some sort of fringe neo-Luddite group. That'll kill us two birds with one stone, I think; if you explain that and then sort of hint that you don't really want to talk about it most people will assume you got kicked out, or that you left because you split from the belief system." He has to grin at the idea of Mel as a luddite. "I mean, it'll become apparent quickly enough you aren't a subscriber to that particular religion, so people can put two and two together. And if they pry," he adds, pointing at Mel like he's presenting a cherry on top of the argument, "then they're rude and you can tell them to mind their own business. How's that sound for the first part of things?"

[strikingtwice]

"Anti... You mean there are people who don't use things like the jewellery-like systems you have here? Because of what they believe in?" That strikes him as particularly odd, but then again, some of the Chantry's choices, particularly in the conflict created by the destruction of the Conclave, had been frustrating and strange as well.

"I suppose at least if I talk about life with my clan, it probably would fit that..." And he can see why Evan would pick that and what he's trying to help with, but at the same time... it's going to be a lot like the questions he got about being Dalish in the past. People wanting to ask questions like it was some novelty or display for entertainment, not his life. It's not Evan's fault, and he's glad as well that if he chooses not to speak about it to avoid that reaction, there might be an explanation for it.

"It works well," he agrees. "And it's not entirely unfamiliar territory as well. Although it doesn't explain that I don't look human by any means. Do people from these backgrounds usually dress that differently?"

[evantuality]

"No," Evan agrees delicately, and then sighs. He tucks his chin down and grimaces earnestly at Mel. "That's actually the rather more troublesome of the two to explain away. You're not really dressed like... anyone around here," he admit, rueful.

"But I think we can still work with it," he hurries on before Mel can worry. "It'll just be a bit more complicated. You can usually get people to stop asking questions about religion and family pretty easily, but--" He huffs a sigh, knowing he's getting ahead of himself. He stops, regathers, tells Mel, "Hear me out. This probably will sound a little strange.

"So there are people here who... who dress up in thematically similar clothing and... and sort of meet up for, kind of, something like mass improvisational acting. Like, some of it's historically themed -- although that wouldn't really apply to you, I think, it'd be just our luck to claim it's a Ren Faire costume and we'd get some history major coming by and trying to quiz you," he huffs. But that's a flood of words, so he tries again. "Another kind dress up as -- as made-up characters, either to show off their costume-making skills or to, to play out challenges and scenarios they find entertaining -- it's... kind of a niche thing but it's mostly what I can think of that might fit the bill. It's called LARPing and... it's not all that common." God, and it's terribly embarrassing to try and explain. The look he gives Mel is lightly flustered and thoroughly apologetic.

But he doesn't stop there. He'll field questions later, but if he can get this all over with in one rush he'll feel the better for it. "But actual LARPing takes knowing a ton of game rules and there's a learning curve there. We could maybe say you were heading out here for your very first LARP meetup, your costume all ready, but -- but your flight lost your baggage, including all your usual clothes and your money and everything, but you knew I went to school here so..."

He shrugs as he trails off, sighs. "I mean, it's more complicated than I'd like, but we're sort of strapped for options here."

[strikingtwice]

"LARPing?" Meallan tries the word out, his brow creased with thought at the suggestion Evan offers. Not all of it makes sense to him, but the bits that do seem like they would work well enough and Evan must know enough of his own world to come up with something that makes sense for others here. It's better than anything he can think of as well, so Meallan nods.

"I was going to try LARPing for the first time and my flight lost my baggage," he repeats, fixing the story in his mind. "That's why I need your help and a place to stay."

Speaking of... Meallan gives the other bed a look and then turns to fix another questioning look (it feels like that's all he's done since arriving, so much of everything seeming strange and confusing) on the younger man again. "Where am I going to stay? Between you and your roommate, there doesn't seem to be much room here."

Before Evan can answer, Meallan frowns in thought again and rises from the bed in a strangely graceful movement to move to the window, looking out into the grounds below. "I suppose I could camp outside. I wouldn't need much and there's plenty of space. Although I'm not certain how your school feels about that."