( for most of Daithi's career, or at least the parts of Daithi's career that had most mattered, he had trained in Orlais — the finest facilities, perhaps, finer than what he had had in his juniors, but the finest coach and choreographer, women Orlesian by love than birth... yes. he had entered the rink naturally athletic, nigh little else, willing to bend and please to dislocation, but an innate artistry or elegance?
(his mother's talent, not his, Daithi supposes.)
sustaining a senior championship had required more, an elevation in his component scores and performances to fill the holes in federation subsidy. now, in his last season, athleticism is the only promise of a worthwhile finish: a historic jump, ratified, and if he feels ambitious, another gold or two.
thus far, five weeks into a training more relentless than ever, Daithi's success is nonexistent, fall after fall activating a constellation of old injuries, his wrist, his knee to his ankle, birthing an explosion of a new one, bruise on top of bruise on top of bruise along his oblique and hip. yoga — in addition to rehabilitative stretching — had been suggested as a likely remedy, albeit one Daithi finds tedious, and only a touch less so for his longtime competition, now rinkmate, to offer some form of expertise or guidance. Lasulahn is more flexible than Daithi had ever (and would ever) compete.
(to straight hold his leg in a particular set of spins had proven impossible years ago. a classic Biellmann favors Daithi's bending knee.)
their meeting in the morning, Daithi greets Lasulahn barefoot, an assortment of athletic tape and adhesive bandage about his toes, in a black and gray sweatwear: the legs, tapered; the waist, low; the shirt, hooded but well fitted. off ice, Daithi's hair is loose and a little wild. ) Morning, ( he answers with a small, crooked smile. he steps aside, palm against the door. ) Want anything from the kitchen?
( inside, the townhouse is sleek, light, almost crisp were it not for the balancing accent of light and textured wood, long dried flowers, elements rustic and welcoming. against the stair wall, incongruent amidst the portfolio work of an interior decorator, a small stack of boxes sit, wait, personal touches Daithi hasn't the time or interest to open.
[ Lasulahn has loved skating for longer than he can remember. His mother had been supportive but otherwise ambivalent of the whole affair, but his father— nearly two decades later, Lasulahn remembers the light in the man's eyes to see his son perform his first successful jump. When his father had died, being on the ice was comforting to Lasulahn. He felt as though he could imagine his father watching, and that made the grief a little easier to bear.
A serious back injury had nearly ended his career before his senior debut, and to heal, Lasulahn had turned to yoga. It was relaxing - and helpful: assisting his flexibility in the spins that required that more than the pure athleticism he fell short in. He thinks it may help Daithi, too. Competition though they are, Lasulahn considers them friends (a hookup that had led to nothing else had complicated that, but at the very least, Lasulahn has a fondness for Daithi). To watch Daithi struggle with injuries both new and old had pained him.
Lasulahn arrives in dark green, high-waisted leggings and a very oversized cream sweatshirt, his long hair pinned up simply so that it doesn't get in his way. In one hand, he holds an athletic bag and a large water bottle by the loop of the lid. ] Good morning.
[ He looks, curious but polite, around the townhouse, before his attention returns to Daithi. ] I'm alright, [ he answers with a smile, lifting the water bottle. ] Thank you. How are you feeling?
( a low "ah," more acknowledgement than agreement.
in some objective sense, Daithi knows that to be true. (what would he tell Lasulahn, sore enough for injury to matter?) in every personal sense, however, Daithi only feels he is losing time. he has competed through worse, forced his limbs to contort and dance through worse (had been younger once and without permanent injury to dictate his limit).
Daithi slips either hand from his pockets. ) I'll move some furniture in the living room.
[ Lasulahn's expression gentles further, softens into something kind and understanding. He didn't want to rest when he his back had been injured (and some few other times since). Every day off the ice felt as though something was slipping away that he might not get back— so, Daithi's noncommital response is understandable. ]
Ah- that's alright! [ He waves his free hand. ] I can move the furniture- just- point what you want where.
...Leliana might kill me if she hears I made you move furniture. [ He knows his coach, Josephine, and Daithi's coach were friends, but something about Leliana still intimidates him. ]
( Daithi half turns as Lasulahn protests — the distance from the entrance to the living room, a few steps — but in the face of any good sense, polite or otherwise, Daithi remains undeterred. )
It's fine, ( he promises. in the living room, he bends at the foot of one table, waiting for Lasulahn to join him at the other: a happy compromise. to Lasulahn, he raises his head, smiling humorous and amused. ) I'm not telling her. Are you?
[ Stubborn. Lasulahn sets down his water bottle and bag hurriedly to meet Daithi and help move the table.
He huffs, sheepish but equally amused. ] Well- no- but if you hurt something worse it'll need some explanation, I imagine. [ He lifts his gaze back to Daithi to follow his lead. ]
( Daithi's smile widens, lopsided. he lifts from his end of the table. ) If, ( he repeats. ) I hurt something.
( in reality, though, the process is quick and harmless. their moving furniture creates a well in the room, large enough to fit two yoga mats and the men that will stretch from them. mindful of a necessary space between, Daithi unfurls the proffered secondary mat, a delineation of career and home that the latter is vacant anything useful to the former. he waits. )
[ If, yes- Lasulahn's smile lingers for the emphasis. Furniture aside, he offers Daithi one mat, and rolls out his own in the remaining empty space. Likewise, he is conscious of space between them, though more so that they both have ample room than anything more personal. He places a set of foam blocks in front of Daithi's mat in case he needs them to assist with any poses, another set in front of his own, along with his water bottle. ] I have some other things if we need them, [ he says, settling on his mat with legs crossed, facing Daithi. ] You haven't done much yoga, right?
( with little indication Lasulahn will begin the routine in a standing position... Daithi likewise sits, one leg curled as though cross legged; the other, half bent to favor his less mobile (and still aching) side. audibly, the joint in his knee pops as Daithi sits. )
Once or twice, ( he answers. he places his forearm on his thigh. ) Makes me feel impatient. ( which is a polite way to say he mislikes the entire endeavor. )
[ A soft laugh. ] It's much different from skating. [ Though part of the reason Lasulahn enjoys it as much as he does is exactly that. ]
I'll try not to bore you too much. [ He explains briefly that he intends to lead Daithi through a few sitting and reclining poses, some standing, and then return to reclining.
He adjusts his legs to begin, pulling his feet together, knees near to the ground and hands around his feet. ] Ah- just remember, none of this should be painful. Stop if it is and tell me. I tried to pick a routine that would help without being too demanding...
( Daithi wouldn't necessarily consider the exercise boring — he enjoys a small share of interests otherwise too idle or methodical for others to even withstand — but what else is the restless sensation yoga leaves him? (an unhappiness, asked to be aware of so much more than he wishes to be.)
he smiles, a breath of laughter through his nose. throughout his junior career, Daithi's coaches, even his mother (his other mother), had told him practice ought to hurt. )
Alright, ( Daithi agrees, following Lasulahn's direction. for the most part, the routine Lasulahn chose is simple enough: only a few poses, new to the normal contortions of Daithi's limbs. only once or twice, Daithi need ask ) Like this?
[ Part of the routine, which Lasulahn uses quite often on his own, is a body scan in shavasana, noting each limb and part, mindful of any pain or discomfort and their source along with any other sensations, which he works in after a few poses to get them warmed up.
When Daithi asks for guidance, Lasulahn instructs, rather than guides hands-on. This time, though, a misalignment of core might cause injury. He moves from his mat, one hand running light down his spine as though to show how to hold the pose. ] Mm, almost. Make sure your shoulders are pulled down, and you want your spine straight. Bend through the hips instead. [ His hand pauses at the small of Daithi's back, the other resting just beneath his navel to finish the correction. ]
Just like that, yes. Good. [ He offers a pleased smile. ]
( what Daithi finds himself most mindful of, now, is the length of Lasulahn's fingers, light but blooming something a little warm and restless in their wake neath Daithi's skin. what turns his thoughts is the twin touch of either hand, low and pleasant and warm... but not warm enough.
Daithi remembers the taste, years ago, hot — the air between them, desperate and humid — Lasulahn smooth on his tongue: can imagine Lasulahn speaking — "just like that, yes. good." — breathy and high, the words staggered between a spell of moans. )
So... ( Daithi glances past the curve of his own body: his voice, warm; his hair, a mess on the mat. ) How long am I expected to stay like this?
( for the most part, Daithi considers himself friendly with others in their career (preferring "competition" more than colleague or contemporary to describe such relationship). regardless what an deluge of shemlen journalists might write, Lasulahn, before and after that night, has never met Daithi elsewise.
sharing the same ice, moments on and off, easily deepens Daithi's affection. )
[ The hand on Daithi's abdomen lifts instead to his jaw, fingertips a featherlight touch to ensure the other keeps his head aligned. A pause, and then something resembling a start, as though realizing his touch, and his hand slips away. ]
A few moments more.
[ A pause, as though counting. ] Bring yourself down, slowly, arms relaxed by your side again, and rest. We'll do it twice more. It doesn't hurt, does it?
( Daithi allows the correction — Lasulahn's retreat, unmistakable — and watches from the edge of his vision. following Lasulahn's instruction, he unwinds from the pose in slow, gentle increments. his attention returns to Lasulahn, eye flickering low, something hungry in his gaze.
softly, Daithi replies, ) Not yet... ( and after a moment, considering, straightens from his position of rest. the motion earns a small breath of a noise. Daithi's tone returns, casual and warm. ) But I wouldn't mind a break.
[ There is something in Daithi's expression, something he almost recognizes but can't quite place. Before he might think on it, though, the other elf rises.
He hadn't intended on a break, so the comment surprises Lasulahn a bit, but he nods in easy agreement. Daithi knew his own body best, of course, and if he wished a break to prevent discomfort or fatigue... that was for the best. ] Alright.
[ Lasulahn takes a moment to stretch his arms above his head, then reaches for his water bottle. He smiles at his companion, and there is warmth in his own tone. ] Not too boring, I hope.
( on his feet, now, Daithi hardly lingers, padding around Lasulahn and out the room. he hadn't ever claimed it boring, but... )
Think I'm starting to like it. ( across his shoulder, a lopsided, little smile, ) Or at least my teacher.
( after a moment or two, the sound of running water can be heard from the kitchen. when Daithi returns, he leans against the frame of the entrance, glass in hand. he hasn't quite worked out what to say, if at all. )
[ The comment is unexpected, and the warmth in Lasulahn's cheeks is made worse for the fact he had almost replied with excitement, only to be startled into silence.
The comment is hardly unwelcome - provided Daithi meant it in a flirtatious way at all - though conjures memories of a moment that feels both distant and recent, somehow. They're both a little older now, but there's something in Daithi's smile that has never changed; nor has the way it makes Lasulahn's heart flutter diminished at all.
He fiddles with his water bottle in a nervous fidget, finger curled around the plastic loop of the lid, until Daithi returns to the doorway. Lasulahn glances back up, then, and finally offers: ] Both, maybe? [ He sounds hopeful. ]
( for a moment, Daithi is silent, eyes on Lasulahn.
then, straightening: ) Don't think so. ( Daithi steps toward the other man, sipping from the glass he carries. he sets it aside. if not for the heat in his gaze, the almost methodical pace with which he moves, the entirety of the action might seem casual.
an arm's reach from Lasulahn, a little low, Daithi continues: ) Think you're just that likeable. ( he places either hand in his pant pockets. )
[ He watches, quiet and a little uncertain. There's an intensity to Daithi's look, and Lasulahn realizes it's the same as minutes before. The warmth in his face returns. A little dumbly, he tries to think of what to say as he continues fidgeting idly with the bottle in his hands. ]
Ah- well, hopefully. We've been friends a long time. [ The choice of word seems not quite right, between the hookup so long ago now, their competitiveness, and an acquaintance that has grown stronger only recently for their sharing a rink... but maybe it's accurate enough. Lasulahn considers Daithi a friend, anyway, even if his feelings are complicated. Daithi's, he assumes, are less so. ]
( another pause. then, a little slow, Daithi crouches, arm on either thigh, level with Lasulahn.
gentle, he hooks a single finger through the hoop of Lasulahn's water. in the given space, Daithi's finger inches up and down. low, eyes meeting the other, ) I've thought you're pretty for a lot longer.
[ The words are... unexpected, most especial for Lasulahn's recent thoughts of that day. For a moment, he doesn't quite believe what he's heard.
He glances down, shy for the comment. In that, Lasulahn has not changed at all over the years. To say he has thought Daithi handsome for a long time too, seems awkward. 'Thank you' seems a little strange. Anything else that might be coherent is difficult to consider, given the distracting flutter in his stomach.
Instead, he shifts one hand, slow as though uncertain, fingertips brushing light along Daithi's finger, then his hand. He glances back up to meet the other's gaze once more. ]
he withdraws his hand, then, shifting to his knees and cupping Lasulahn's cheek in a kiss. the entirety of the action is purposeful, slow, enough that Lasulahn might refuse or withdraw if he so wishes. )
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A serious back injury had nearly ended his career before his senior debut, and to heal, Lasulahn had turned to yoga. It was relaxing - and helpful: assisting his flexibility in the spins that required that more than the pure athleticism he fell short in. He thinks it may help Daithi, too. Competition though they are, Lasulahn considers them friends (a hookup that had led to nothing else had complicated that, but at the very least, Lasulahn has a fondness for Daithi). To watch Daithi struggle with injuries both new and old had pained him.
Lasulahn arrives in dark green, high-waisted leggings and a very oversized cream sweatshirt, his long hair pinned up simply so that it doesn't get in his way. In one hand, he holds an athletic bag and a large water bottle by the loop of the lid. ] Good morning.
[ He looks, curious but polite, around the townhouse, before his attention returns to Daithi. ] I'm alright, [ he answers with a smile, lifting the water bottle. ] Thank you. How are you feeling?
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Sore. ( featuring a diminished range of motion. ) Leliana is probably forcing me off the ice for a few days.
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Well, [ he begins gently, ] It might help. Give you some time to recuperate, and go back with a fresh start.
[ He glances around once more. ] Ah- where did you want to set up? I brought a mat for you, if you don't have one.
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in some objective sense, Daithi knows that to be true. (what would he tell Lasulahn, sore enough for injury to matter?) in every personal sense, however, Daithi only feels he is losing time. he has competed through worse, forced his limbs to contort and dance through worse (had been younger once and without permanent injury to dictate his limit).
Daithi slips either hand from his pockets. ) I'll move some furniture in the living room.
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Ah- that's alright! [ He waves his free hand. ] I can move the furniture- just- point what you want where.
...Leliana might kill me if she hears I made you move furniture. [ He knows his coach, Josephine, and Daithi's coach were friends, but something about Leliana still intimidates him. ]
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It's fine, ( he promises. in the living room, he bends at the foot of one table, waiting for Lasulahn to join him at the other: a happy compromise. to Lasulahn, he raises his head, smiling humorous and amused. ) I'm not telling her. Are you?
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He huffs, sheepish but equally amused. ] Well- no- but if you hurt something worse it'll need some explanation, I imagine. [ He lifts his gaze back to Daithi to follow his lead. ]
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( in reality, though, the process is quick and harmless. their moving furniture creates a well in the room, large enough to fit two yoga mats and the men that will stretch from them. mindful of a necessary space between, Daithi unfurls the proffered secondary mat, a delineation of career and home that the latter is vacant anything useful to the former. he waits. )
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Once or twice, ( he answers. he places his forearm on his thigh. ) Makes me feel impatient. ( which is a polite way to say he mislikes the entire endeavor. )
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I'll try not to bore you too much. [ He explains briefly that he intends to lead Daithi through a few sitting and reclining poses, some standing, and then return to reclining.
He adjusts his legs to begin, pulling his feet together, knees near to the ground and hands around his feet. ] Ah- just remember, none of this should be painful. Stop if it is and tell me. I tried to pick a routine that would help without being too demanding...
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he smiles, a breath of laughter through his nose. throughout his junior career, Daithi's coaches, even his mother (his other mother), had told him practice ought to hurt. )
Alright, ( Daithi agrees, following Lasulahn's direction. for the most part, the routine Lasulahn chose is simple enough: only a few poses, new to the normal contortions of Daithi's limbs. only once or twice, Daithi need ask ) Like this?
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When Daithi asks for guidance, Lasulahn instructs, rather than guides hands-on. This time, though, a misalignment of core might cause injury. He moves from his mat, one hand running light down his spine as though to show how to hold the pose. ] Mm, almost. Make sure your shoulders are pulled down, and you want your spine straight. Bend through the hips instead. [ His hand pauses at the small of Daithi's back, the other resting just beneath his navel to finish the correction. ]
Just like that, yes. Good. [ He offers a pleased smile. ]
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Daithi remembers the taste, years ago, hot — the air between them, desperate and humid — Lasulahn smooth on his tongue: can imagine Lasulahn speaking — "just like that, yes. good." — breathy and high, the words staggered between a spell of moans. )
So... ( Daithi glances past the curve of his own body: his voice, warm; his hair, a mess on the mat. ) How long am I expected to stay like this?
( for the most part, Daithi considers himself friendly with others in their career (preferring "competition" more than colleague or contemporary to describe such relationship). regardless what an deluge of shemlen journalists might write, Lasulahn, before and after that night, has never met Daithi elsewise.
sharing the same ice, moments on and off, easily deepens Daithi's affection. )
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A few moments more.
[ A pause, as though counting. ] Bring yourself down, slowly, arms relaxed by your side again, and rest. We'll do it twice more. It doesn't hurt, does it?
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softly, Daithi replies, ) Not yet... ( and after a moment, considering, straightens from his position of rest. the motion earns a small breath of a noise. Daithi's tone returns, casual and warm. ) But I wouldn't mind a break.
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He hadn't intended on a break, so the comment surprises Lasulahn a bit, but he nods in easy agreement. Daithi knew his own body best, of course, and if he wished a break to prevent discomfort or fatigue... that was for the best. ] Alright.
[ Lasulahn takes a moment to stretch his arms above his head, then reaches for his water bottle. He smiles at his companion, and there is warmth in his own tone. ] Not too boring, I hope.
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Think I'm starting to like it. ( across his shoulder, a lopsided, little smile, ) Or at least my teacher.
( after a moment or two, the sound of running water can be heard from the kitchen. when Daithi returns, he leans against the frame of the entrance, glass in hand. he hasn't quite worked out what to say, if at all. )
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The comment is hardly unwelcome - provided Daithi meant it in a flirtatious way at all - though conjures memories of a moment that feels both distant and recent, somehow. They're both a little older now, but there's something in Daithi's smile that has never changed; nor has the way it makes Lasulahn's heart flutter diminished at all.
He fiddles with his water bottle in a nervous fidget, finger curled around the plastic loop of the lid, until Daithi returns to the doorway. Lasulahn glances back up, then, and finally offers: ] Both, maybe? [ He sounds hopeful. ]
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then, straightening: ) Don't think so. ( Daithi steps toward the other man, sipping from the glass he carries. he sets it aside. if not for the heat in his gaze, the almost methodical pace with which he moves, the entirety of the action might seem casual.
an arm's reach from Lasulahn, a little low, Daithi continues: ) Think you're just that likeable. ( he places either hand in his pant pockets. )
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Ah- well, hopefully. We've been friends a long time. [ The choice of word seems not quite right, between the hookup so long ago now, their competitiveness, and an acquaintance that has grown stronger only recently for their sharing a rink... but maybe it's accurate enough. Lasulahn considers Daithi a friend, anyway, even if his feelings are complicated. Daithi's, he assumes, are less so. ]
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gentle, he hooks a single finger through the hoop of Lasulahn's water. in the given space, Daithi's finger inches up and down. low, eyes meeting the other, ) I've thought you're pretty for a lot longer.
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He glances down, shy for the comment. In that, Lasulahn has not changed at all over the years. To say he has thought Daithi handsome for a long time too, seems awkward. 'Thank you' seems a little strange. Anything else that might be coherent is difficult to consider, given the distracting flutter in his stomach.
Instead, he shifts one hand, slow as though uncertain, fingertips brushing light along Daithi's finger, then his hand. He glances back up to meet the other's gaze once more. ]
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he withdraws his hand, then, shifting to his knees and cupping Lasulahn's cheek in a kiss. the entirety of the action is purposeful, slow, enough that Lasulahn might refuse or withdraw if he so wishes. )
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