Boredom Is Dangerous (Anna)

A/N: This got a lot longer than originally expected oops. And yes, I am still mad at the empire for deportation, imprisonment, and attempted execution over the last couple of centuries, who cares if it had to do with prophecies, the world nearly ending, and a very stupid miscommunication with a case of wrong place wrong time thanks to sheer bad luck.

 Prompt: Boredom is dangerous

Despite being one of the more inhabited cities Solitude in this frigid unforgiving part of the world it still somehow manages to get awfully boring at times. It’s not necessarily the city's fault either as much as it is the circumstances in which it exists. Beautiful, yes, but in a country not known for having a particularly large population at baseline and has since shrunk due to ongoing civil war. What’s the point of having two castles in a city with perhaps a hundred people at most? I think about that while laying on the bed staring at the ceiling, all other attempts to occupy my mind thus far have failed. Cleaning? Completed. Assignments for the Bards College? Looked over. Making and eating a snack? Done. Nap? Not tired. I would go out and wander around if the weather were better. Unfortunately for me it’s dreary, cold, and raining. In fact I can’t remember the last time I actually saw the sun now that I think about it. I count the days on my fingers trying to figure it out talking quietly to myself to ensure I don’t lose track. Has it seriously been more than ten days since it was truly sunny outside? Part of me thinks that can’t be right, while another part believes it is totally and entirely plausible. What to think of next to pass the time? Better question; what’s taking Farkas so long? Having agreed to it, to the benefit of everyone involved, I sent him in my stead to run an errand to Castle Dour, the imperial fortress and central command of the Legion. Not to be confused with the Blue Palace, the other much nicer castle, where the Jarl lives. Given his general kind if rather blunt way of getting to the point, lack of personal connection to the Legion or the opposition, and overall lack of interest in the civil war on the whole Farkas is actually in many ways the perfect person to send on such an errand. I’m still angry with General Tulius about my attempted and very nearly successful beheading, considering it was under his orders I was sent to the chopping block despite having committed no crime. Never thought I’d be grateful for a dragon nearly incinerating me and yet that day I was. The errand though should not take this long…unless perhaps he got caught up talking with someone we know on the way back like Evette San, who lives down the street. I assume he’ll be back eventually and once again end up back where I started- bored with nothing to do. I sit up for a few minutes and look around the room trying to see what’s actually here that I don’t often notice. Eventually my eyes settle on the wardrobe. When did I last go through my clothes? Getting off the bed I go over and open it, this will keep me occupied, at least for a little while. Sifting through things I find a few that catch my eye, I’d forgotten they existed. With nothing else to do today I might as well change into something more comfortable before continuing to sort.

By the time I finish sorting and organizing, having found a few things to wear more often and a few to give away its sunset. I debate casting a detect life spell just in case but decide not to. It hasn’t been that long in the scheme of things, it just feels longer. It’s not helped by the fact the sun sets so early now. More so the idea of anyone being in that fortress for any amount of time makes my stomach churn just a bit. With a huff of annoyance I come to the conclusion that at this point there’s nothing better to do besides read or sleep and unfortunately I’m still not tired enough to nap. Flopping back onto the bed and rolling onto my stomach with my legs kicking every so often back and forth or otherwise remaining still with ankles crossed to keep them together I grab the nearest book sitting on the night table and flip open to the last page marked after lighting a nearby candle for extra light. One hand turns the pages while the other props my head up. There is still the tiniest bit of light streaming through the windows but not enough to make reading easy. Humming quietly to myself I pick up with the chapter that I left off on.

After some time, too much time really, a familiar face pokes a head in the door. One that goes from questioning to shock to interest very quickly, and then comes in closing and locking the door even more so. I thought he’d like what I dug up by accident, form fitting enough while still leaving some to imagination. The perfect combination of ever so slightly risqué and modest. Black shorts with lace detailing and a matching camisole made of thicker almost silk like material at the top and a somewhat sheer material from the start of the abdomen down, both are surprisingly comfortable for hanging around doing nothing, like PJs but lighter.  “My eyes are up here.” I say pointing with one hand towards my face all the while not looking up from my book. “Oh really? I never would have guessed.” At that I do look up having finished reading the rest of the page. It’s fairly obvious what took so long now, he got caught in the rain and must have had to wait it out, that’s never fun. His clothes and hair are still somewhat wet though based on the continuously wandering gaze I’m not so sure that’s at the forefront of concerns or cares at the moment. “Do you like them? Found them in the wardrobe. Surprisingly comfortable actually, good for a boring day like today.” To that I hear a faint whisper only barely audible of “Boredom is dangerous.” which may be true however I don’t think I’m the best person to weigh in on the subject. “And you’ll get a cold if you stay like that, you know.” I point out with a gesture to the still damp shirt and probably rather uncomfortable armor. At least the pants and socks stayed dry in the rain, good boots and conservatively covering armor make all the difference whether it’s in battle or in a thunderstorm. It’s astonishing how quickly someone skilled and used to wearing, and in this case also making, armor can put it on and in some cases more impressively take it off. Piece by piece the armor comes off in some cases being carefully set aside and in others falling with a clatter against the stone floor. It’s fascinating to watch the way muscle memory kicks in and straps and laces and buckles become undone without a moment of thought until there’s nothing left to remove. Now only in plain clothes it’s very obvious the sky decided to open at an inopportune time so much so you’d have thought the shirt had gone through the laundry and needed to be hung out to dry. Putting a place marker in the book I close it and set it aside before getting up and over to the pile of discarded armor as Farkas has yet to move beyond it. “You’ll get a cold if you stay like that, you know.” I reiterate taking a piece of the fabric to assess truly how wet it is compared to the parts that had remained covered by other layers of clothing and armor before attempting to get it off. While I don’t succeed myself the cue is taken and moments later the shirt joins the pile on the floor. With the risk of environment related illness addressed I wander back to where I had originally been and unceremoniously flop backwards onto the bed before rolling onto my stomach and propping my head up with my hands. It doesn’t take much for Farkas to follow first just sitting at the edge of the bed and eventually moving to lay down more comfortably, or…as comfortably as one who got stuck in a thunderstorm during colder weather could be. Seemingly content to just rest for a bit I manage to squish myself as close as possible and give him a hug. The action is reciprocated and we stay just like that for a while, I think he even briefly doses off at one point before waking again. I stay awake if only barely watching the last remaining bits of sun fade away and listening to the soft, even sounds of breathing in and out, in and out, in and out. If I pay close enough attention I can ever so slightly hear a heartbeat at times. It’s quite slow and matches the steady rhythm of breathing which signals to me he has in fact dozed off. It’s a good day for a nap and he could certainly use one. Shortly after he wakes again seemingly almost confused for some reason blinking away the remnants of sleep. “Are you trying to seduce me into better sleeping habits?” I’m asked in a tone that is partly questioning and partly accusing. “Is it working?” At my response Farkas stops rubbing at one of his eyes and just looks at me silently for a second with a look I can’t quite describe- somewhere between confusion, annoyance, and acceptance. “Yes…?” is the hesitant answer I get in return. Well, even if it wasn’t my initial intention when digging what I found out of the wardrobe I’m glad it worked regardless. Having fully awakened Farkas lays back down next to me, as I hadn’t moved, and runs a hand along the soft to semi-sheer fabric seemingly curious about it. “A nap wasn’t the entire plan…” I mumble as a hand makes its way beneath the light material and ghosts ever so slightly along my side. The initial look from when he first poked his head in the door returns along with the feeling that something ever so slightly devious, or at least mischievous, is being concocted in that head of his right now judging by the glint in his eyes. Metallic eyes certainly make it easy for others to see them in the dark, or in this case low lighting cast by only a few nearby candles. I’m given a light push to the right shoulder that’s just enough to put me on my back against the pillows. Before the opportunity to make a smart remark is possible I’m very effectively silenced, it’s difficult to speak when you’re being kissed. One hand simply holds me in place while the other continues to wander and I swear my face must be flushed as red as a tomato with how hot it feels. It’s sweet, almost too sweet at least for such a scenario. Considering my current outfit, or lack thereof, I was expecting something a tiny bit rougher. As one hand stops it’s wandering to grab my wrist and the other follows suit I’m reminded that the night is still young, things can certainly change and potentially quite rapidly. I may get my unspoken wish after all. Taking a much needed gasp of air my head lands with a thump against the pillow. Farkas simply moves to my neck, at one point making me nearly jump with a startle from an accidental bite, and moves along from there to just above the collar bone before pulling back. Every time I think to speak it’s like my thoughts are being read, always two steps ahead. I manage in a barely audible voice a gasp of “fuck” one of the few thoughts I can think clearly enough to verbalize. “This is exactly what you wanted. I know it’s not too much but if it is you know what to say.” I get out a weak laugh “No never too much. If anything you’re going too slo-“ the sentence is cut off abruptly by the renewed inability to speak. That certainly wasn’t too slow, more of that, please. Coming back up for air I’m asked what now, how do I want this? Excellent question and something I probably should have thought of in my earlier boredom induced daydreams. With a bit of thinking I come up with something however basic and expected of me it may be though it contains a slight twist of sorts from usual. Not everything can be soft and sweet all the time. The hands that had previously been holding down my wrists change places; the one that earlier had been trailing along my side slips back to its former place while the other wraps around my neck. “All you have to do is say three little words and you’ll get what you want.” The part I always despise; the waiting. “Go. Fuck. Yourself.” I count out on one hand to three though my only reaction is the hand against my neck tightening just a bit, though not enough to cut off air. “The right three words.” I’m told with a less than pleased look that it also communicates silently “listen you’re just prolonging this for yourself at this point I don’t get much out of this besides mental and emotional satisfaction” which is a fair point to make I suppose. Giving up I mumble out to correct words and am immediately rewarded for it as the hand that had been wandering finds the exact spot it needs to be making me nearly scream. It is rather funny how our nervous systems work as people, those nerves that spark pleasure are nowhere near anything one would typically think of, they just happen to be especially sensitive. Given the wonders of the peripheral nervous system, the mysterious ways of the hormonal system, and the ability to make boredom related daydreams come alive with a bit of communication it doesn’t take long until I finally feel like I could take a nap. “Better than your daydream?” I’m asked in my half conscious dazed state of happy satiety. “Nah, think I can still feel my legs.” which only gets me an eye roll and a puzzled look of “what were you thinking about earlier?” which isn’t a particularly good question given I explained exactly what was involved not ten minutes ago. Taking me so I lay on top of him, my head tucked against his shoulder. I'm held there while a hand runs through my now rather messy hair. “It turned into a good afternoon in the end after all.” I state to no one in particular, not to myself and not to Farkas, rather it is just a simple statement of facts. “It goes to show boredom is a dangerous thing for you. Next time you get to go talk with the general.” I mean to make a comment about arson in reply, but sleep takes over before I get the chance. Dangerous or not, it at least resulted in a good time in the end.