kremdelacreme | PSL for notyourherald

Nights at the bar were common enough, and Krem finding himself belly-up to the bar with a pint in hand and an ear on the commotion was surprising to nobody at all. He had friends here, all off on their own errands around the place, be it fetching more drinks or chatting up half the other patrons. His closest friend, for instance, was busily flexing his massive arms for a crowd of onlookers and telling the same story he always told about his previous assignments for the Ben-Hassrath. Easy enough to tune out after having heard it enough times to be able to recite it back to the massive qunari.

The people that weren't trying to jump the Bull's bones though, they set their sights on smaller fare. Like the elf sitting a couple of stools away. It wouldn't have made a lick of difference to him, except they were insistent and starting to crowd in on him there as they moved around to lean oh-so-nonchalantly on the bar. He could hear them plying the pale young man with stories of their possessions, the things they could provide, including their beds, and the fighter rubbed his temple with his fingers, rolling his eyes so dramatically that his head moved with them.

"I don't think they're interested," he sighed after his elbow was accidentally nudged by one of them for the third time with no apology. One turned to take him in; short, hair buzzed into an undercut that was slicked back out of his face, dimple piercings and just a hint of a tattoo peeking up from his collar up the back of his neck. His arms looked like he could punch a fridge. He was dismissed as nothing but a rubbernecker, at least for the time being.

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Cyril was usually the type to be all over those offers. He'd usually be the first one to be paying attention to the massive form of the qunari telling stories or happily take the attention of the group human surrounding him. It was very rare that he just wasn't in the mood. Today, the anniversary of something terrible in his past, just happened to be one of those days.

He had picked out this bar because it was a one he had never been to before. There was supposed to be less chance of humans who knew how willing he usually was to climb into bed with strangers. But they had found him anyway. Maybe not on reputation this time, but something had encouraged them to single him out.

At first he had simply replied with a polite 'not tonight.' But that had been taken more as him playing hard to get than anything, and suddenly he was surrounded, crowded, their leering faces looking down at him.

He very rarely experienced shame over how easy it was to get him to share his affections, but tonight the fact that they had crowded him made him shrink away, made him feel dirty and cheap. It brought to the forefront how little people actually cared for him when he wasn't being pleasing to them.

Then a voice at the bar had broken into the crowded haze and Cyril looked at the source of it. His expression was almost pleading. He felt so small and breakable as one of the humans slipped an arm around him. The man reeked of booze and his arm was heavy. It weighed down Cyril's shoulders.

"Not interested? How can something this pretty not be interested? You just need convincing don't you?" Then the stranger leaned over to try to kiss him and Cyril yelped and tried to push him away.

"Leave me alone," he said, trying to sound more firm but his voice cracked.

A hand snapped around the man's shoulder that had his arm over the elf, and his teeth gritted as he groaned, his body dropping and arm raising as the muscle was gripped into by solid fingers and dug into.

"I think that means he's not interested, and that you need to take your leave," he said a little louder, his glass still in the other hand. He'd caught the look the elf had given him, and that had tipped him right away that no, he was not playing hard-to-get or working the men up to do more for him. So here we was, slowly lowering a man to his knees with the strength of a hand.

"Oi, ease up," the man hissed, and one of the others stepped up to shove on his shoulder. "You heard 'im, leggo or you'll be pickin' your teeth up off the ground in a minute."

The threat in the set of his jaw was enough to make the last of the group back up. Unfortunately, the man on his knees wasn't that smart, and got the brilliant idea to try and lunge, driving his elbow into the spot right above the button of his jeans. With him bent half and groaning, the other took advantage and ripped his hand away from the first and pulled him to his feet, at the same time shoving on Krem's shoulder again.

When Krem straightened up, there was instant regret on both men's faces; the shadow falling over them all was twice as wide as any of them, and the look on its owner's face was somewhere between skepticism and unamused. 'Are you aware of just how badly you've fucked up?' it seemed to say, particularly as one gigantic hand clapped down on Krem's shoulder. You see, the problem with fighting someone that had real friends around laid in that those friends had started to pay attention, and when one of your friends was The Iron Bull, that meant there was no chance of an assailant walking away in one piece.

It didn't stop them from trying though, and one got a total of one punch in, before being driven into the ground by a fist the size of his head. The other man was driven back by an elbow square to the nose, and neither of them saw it coming when another three people came out of nowhere and proceeded to carry them straight out of the bar to toss onto the sidewalk.

This bar was special, even as nondescript as it was, as it was protected by the local group calling themselves The Bull's Chargers. The only people that ever caused trouble here were people unfamiliar with the area. It was only more unfortunate that it had to happen to another new face. At least it was unlikely to happen again.

By the time the commotion ceased, Krem was back at the bar, perched on his stool with his mug against his eye, which would be black within the hour and mostly swollen after that. "You alright?" he asked with a content enough look on his face in spite of the pain in his gut and in his head.

Cyril had slipped out of the way once the commotion really took off. He was tempted to try to get back home but it felt really shitty, even for him, to leave before making sure that the man that had stepped in for him was okay.

He asked the bartender for a bag of ice and a clean towel to wrap it up in. "I'm fine," he answered. "Thanks to you."

Once the ice was handed over Cyril came closer to Krem. "Here, let me," he offered, holding up the ice.

"They were assholes," Krem replied with a shrug, looking from the ice to the elf, then gingerly taking it from him and laying it against his face in his beer's place. He winced a little, but that was all.

"Good job," one of his friends called to him, slapping his back in passing as the trio headed back to their original places. Bull had gone back to his little crowd, and was now telling them all about his 'lieutenant'. This, too, he was good at tuning out.

Another beer was placed in front of him, and he polished off the first then slid the glass back. He looked back around at Cyril as he started on the next one.

"So you probably haven't been in the city long," he commented, taking in the elf's face and vallaslin. "You'll want to be careful at the other bars."

"Oh no," Cyril answered. "I've lived here for a couple years. It's just usually I'm far more friendly." He didn't even glance towards Bull, all of his attention was focused on Krem, which was just another sign of how different he was feeling. He didn't seem to care about anything other than Krem.

"That and I tend to go to a different bar. I just... I didn't want to run into anyone that would expect me to be friendly." He gave Krem a wry smile. "You can see how well that worked out."

Rather than dwell on it though, he came a little closer to Krem. "Are you sure you're all right? That looks like it hurts."

"Stings a little, but I'll live," he replied with another shrug, shifting how the ice rested against his eye. "This place doesn't get creeps much anymore, but I s'pose you're just unlucky tonight."

Outwardly at least, Krem didn't seem to be reacting to Cyril watching him like that. Inside he was a little worried, mentally leaning away even though he stayed mostly still. He really hoped that the elf wouldn't try something like thanking his "savior" with anything but words and an ice pack. That...might not go over well.

Cyril smiled at bit at that. "It was bound to happen," he said. "The universe does like to kick a man while he's down."

Then, after a moment, he settled in the chair next to Krem. Not invading his space more than needed. "At least let me buy you a drink or something for thanks."

"Oh always," Krem snorted at the first comment, then shook his head some at the second. "If you insist. I'm not the designated driver anyway."

He knew what he wanted his last drink to be by now, too. He held up a finger for the barkeep's attention then asked for a bomb, scooting his refilled beer aside; he'd give it to one of the others. When the dark ale was placed in front of him along with its accompanying cream and whiskey, then glanced from the corner of his eye at Cyril before tipping him a subtle wink and dropping the shot. Then he picked up the ale to chug, throat working rhythmically as he downed it. There was a brief round of applause from Bull and his entourage, but he ignored it in favor of turning back to face Cyril again.

"Cremisius Aclassi, by the way. 'd you like someone to walk home with? Just in case."

Cyril froze, uncertain. For a moment, he thought that the offer to walk him home was going to end in a demand that he be thanked in a physical sort of way, but Cremisius hadn't saved him from creeps just to turn out to be one himself. Had he?

"I... uh," he started. He felt so off centered and off his game. He shouldn't have gone out this night but he had felt so miserable back home. Now though, he felt like all of his charm had been sapped from him.

"Do you mean just walking me home, don't you? Nothing else?"

"Nothing else," Krem confirmed, offering a patient half-smile. He couldn't really blame Cyril for being wary. He didn't know Krem from a hole in the ground. "I won't if you don't want me to though. I will give you this though."

Two things were placed on the counter top as he spoke: a card with his name and the place where it could be assumed he worked on it, and a small locking knife. That way Cyril would know who he was and if something did happen, it could be offered as some kind of proof for...anything, really, and he would have a means to feel a little safer walking home.

Cyril took the things and then considered them a moment. "I'll be fine on my own," he promised. "But I think I will head out now. I'm pretty exhausted."

He didn't want to seem ungrateful but he was kind of over being out for the night. He kept the card though and the knife. "Thank you for everything. And try not to let that bruise up so bad."

Krem lifted his ice pack and shook it a little, then squeezed it and pressed the bulging part back against his face. "If you'll be fine then so will I, trust me," he replied, then stood to at least walk Cyril to the door, leaving his empty glass behind. He would go back to the rest of the guys as soon as he saw the elf on his way. It was safer this way than the possibility of the men from before coming out of nowhere and grabbing him.

At the door he stayed put, watching Cyril go and eyeballing the shadows up until it looked like he would be getting home alright, then returned to the back of the bar and was promptly harassed for "making a friend".

By daybreak the following morning, the bruising around his eye had fully darkened, making it look a lot worse than it really was; one of the men had taken care to help him reduce the swelling, making it possible for him to go to work.

Work, by the way, was the Flying Lotus, a body modification parlor that served anyone with coin and offered everything from basic piercing to scarification. Cremisius himself was an apprentice here, learning and doing most everything save for slicing people open. That was a bit beyond his skill set and what his stomach could handle. He was spending his time for the moment at the front of the shop, taking appointments and payments, turning away the people that were stinking drunk, and thinking back to the bar, and the elf. Hopefully he had made it home in one peace...

Cyril had made it home and and gone to bed after a very long shower. The next day he found himself at the Flying Lotus. He told himself it was to return the blade, but really he just wanted to see Cremisius again. It was odd, usually being in a vulnerable situation made Cyril want to hide for days, but with Krem there was something about him that made the elf want to reach out.

The silver haired creature that came into the shop, though, seemed very different than the shrinking elf that had been at the bar the night before. Cyril had done his make up very carefully, fussed with his hair for hours, and then put on a complimentary outfit. When he opened the door the the shop the heels of his boots made a noise against the hard tile floor.

He looked around for any sign of his white knight from the night before.

When Krem turned around in his rolling chair at the sound of the bell over the door chiming, he looked better than one might expect, recently showered, hair styled up neatly and a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons open. He looked up as he started giving his welcoming schpiel, then stopped and grinned.

"Good to see you again," he said immediately, relieved that Cyril had made it home in one piece.

Cyril returned the smile and came up to him. "Good to see you too," he said, grinning a bit as he came over and leaned a bit on the counter. "I came to return your things." He wasn't sure how much Krem's work would allow sliding him weapons so he didn't pull out the knife just yet.

Everything about the way he carried himself was different now. At the bar he had been subdued and shrinking, now his shoulders were held up with confidence and he grinned easily at Krem. "Maybe over lunch?"

The sound of Krem being a little more enthusiastic than usual drew a little bit of attention, a couple of heads peeking out of doorways to watch him talking to this pretty, pale elf at the desk. Krem himself just shook his head. "You can keep that. Maker knows you probably need it more often than I do anyway."

After a second's hesitation at being asked out, he held out a hand to shake. "I don't think I ever actually asked your name before. Might want to at least get that out of the way first," he pointed out with arched brow and slightly crooked little smile.

Cyril's brow rose a bit at the offer to keep the blade. He couldn't deny that it was true that he could use it. The world was too filled with creepy humans who looked to target elves.

"My name?" he asked, and the smile on his lips was obviously flirtatious. "I could give you my number too," he added, teasing just a bit, but even then it was clear that he would give it if Krem asked.

He didn't make Krem stew in that too long though because answering the question. "I'm Cyril. Cyril Lavellan."

At least Krem was good at ignoring when his face turned pink...

"If you like," he replied simply, his hands tucking into his pockets to keep himself from fidgeting, as he was prone to when he didn't have something else to do with them. He nodded some with an easy smile of his own. "It's a pleasure, Cyril. Is there anything we can do for you here?" He nodded down at the glass-fronted cabinet that served as his desk, and the art and piercings on display there. There was more arranged in other cabinets and along the walls for browsing, and he had to wonder if Cyril even cared to get anything done, or if he'd simply come to see Krem himself.

He couldn't say it'd be all that bad if it had just been that.

Cyril's smiled widened a bit at how nervous Krem was being. He honestly thought it was just out of being unsure and he found it kind of cute. He took a pen from the desk and wrote his number down on the back of a card.

"I hadn't thought of it before," he admitted thoughtfully as he finished writing the numbers. "But perhaps I would like my ears done at some point. Do you do elves?"

The way that he said the last sentence, he seemed to be implying more than just piercings.

If he weren't so used to hearing innuendos working here, Krem might have been a little more embarrassed at that tone. Still, he took the card and tucked it into his wallet, nodding over to a shelf on which a huge binder was placed.

"Elves, Dwarves, Qunari, if you want a hole punched in you, doesn't matter who you are, so long as you're clean," he replied easily, slipping into a more businesslike attitude and moving around from behind the counter. "Here, take a look."

When the binder was open on the countertop, it was obvious that it had been compiled by multiple artists and arranged carefully to include everything from surface to genital piercings, diagrams and descriptions of each and accompanying photos where they were available of what each end result would look like. There was also a section for each type of piercing on aftercare. Very thorough, very professional. Krem took a moment to flip to the section on ear piercings, which had marked tabs specific to each type of ear, with careful attention to elf and qunari.

"You see anything in here that catches your eye, you let me know. Standard pricing for lobe's twenty, cartilage is fourty, tragus varies depending on the amount of space we have to work with. Price of jewelry's included."

Cyril looked through the book for a moment before choosing something pretty simple and silver. It was not terribly expensive but also not the cheapest.

"What about this one?" he asked, grinning over at Krem again. "And are you the one who can do it? If I have any one's hands on me, I'd like it to be yours."

He wanted to try to flirt just once more and see if Krem responded at all. Otherwise, it might be that he just wasn't interested in other men and was too polite to say something. Cy still wanted to be friendly, but he'd probably tone down the flirting. A little.

Krem glanced over the piercing in question and nodded. That would be simple enough, and they could probably spend time before his next appointment simply talking.

"You know, if you're trying to make me blush, you'll have to try a little harder," he pointed out, tone very light, easygoing, and almost sounding like a dismissal of Cyril's attempts, at least until Krem looked back around in leading Cyril to one of the rooms in the shop that were unoccupied, tipping the elf a subtle wink and slightly tilted smile. It might happen eventually, he was implying, giving Cyril a little hope, a little impetus to keep going.

Cyril grinned at the encouragement. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied, far too pleased with himself. "Preferably not when you are pushing a sharp piece of metal through my ear."

He felt renewed with that little wink, and much better about everything in this situation. He reminded himself to try to arrange the lunch date again once he was done with the piercing.

"Being able to hold a needle straight is preferable," Krem quipped in reply and grinned back over his shoulder, then gestured into the first open room, then started to move around it to ready his little tray of sterilization supplies and jewelry.

"This your first piercing?" he asked conversationally. He liked having a gauge on the experience that customers had with body modification, just so he knew how to act; some people were more experienced and didn't mind someone casual about their work, while others maintained that he should be completely professional. Usually it was their reaction to this question that told him what the better path was, but Cyril... he seemed more like the sort to appreciate him being candid.

"It is," Cyril said. He smirked just a bit. "I was thinking of getting my nipples done eventually, but that's only because having a little decoration on something so beautiful only makes it better."

Now he was just being shameless because he was a little nervous. As high of pain tolerance that he had, it was still a little intimidating to have a sharp thing pushed through his ear.

"That is generally the consensus when it comes to nipple piercings. Either that or something that increases sensitivity, but that all depends on the person."

Krem was fine with shameless. He dealt with it on the daily. It was a little different that it was being directed at him specifically, rather than the Shameless In General that he saw a lot of. He was pulling on a pair of latex gloves, checking packaging, and pulling out a couple of different rings that would go through, simple studs, capture rings and horseshoes in stainless steel.

"You'll have to remain unclenched for me if you want to keep it from healing funny," he pointed out, picking up on Cyril's nerves. "Pick something to go in the hole when it's done and we can do this."

Cyril's brow rose a bit at that choice of wording, but he didn't actually go there. At least not yet.

Instead, he picked out something that was pretty and suggested they go with that. He took a deep breath to help himself relax and then settled down into his chair.

"So, how long have you been doing this?"

The look on Cyril's face got a quiet sigh out of him. "When someone clenches their jaw, it affects the tension of everything around it. Ever gotten a shot with your arm tensed up? Hurts a lot more than it should, bruises up too. Same goes for this."

With the choice of ring, Krem nodded, finally peeling the plastic away from the needle and sanitizing it immediately before standing at the elf's side, needle tucked against his palm as he used a small wooden point to mark the entry and exit points.

"Been at this for a little over a year now," he replied, then dropped his voice. "Alright, breathe in deep for me, then out slow." On the exhale, he would be easing the needle on through.

Cyril closed his eyes to stop him from having to watch the needle. He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. The pain was not nearly as bad as he thought it would be. It was more just a sharp pinprick and then that was it.

He opened his eyes to look at Krem, careful not to move his head until Krem said it was okay.

With the needle through, Krem had the heel of his hand against the edge of Cyril's jaw, holding it still as he reached for the ring, popping the ball out of it and threading it through the hole, trailing after the needle as it was pushed the rest of the way through. He quickly swabbed away a trace of blood then slipped the ball back into place and stood back again, stripping off his gloves and taking a moment to dispose of everything in the medical waste receptacle.

"That'll take a couple of weeks to heal, and it'll hurt like a bitch to sleep on, so don't sleep on that side. Here." He reached into another drawer and picked out a little bag that held a smaller baggie of salt, as well as a pamphlet on caring for new piercings. "Soak it twice a day, have some painkiller around, and don't play with it. You have my card, it has my number on it."

Cyril nodded a bit at the direction and took the care items. He smiled a bit with thanks. It still stung now but at least it wasn't too bad.

"And if I want to call to set up that date?" he asked as smoothly as he could manage given everything.

"Could just ask in person, it's not like I'll bite your head off," Krem pointed out as he tucked away the last of his supplies then looked back at Cyril with his arms crossed. "You're certainly a lot more sure of yourself than you were before. I was under the impression you didn't much care for humans."

"It was a bad night for me," Cyril responded thoughtfully. "Usually I'm much more open to new experiences." He looked a little embarrassed by that now that he was talking about it.

"I'm afraid I wasn't at my best. I was luckily though, considering there was a knight in shining armor there to save me."

Krem nodded some. He could understand an off night, everyone had them.

"Wouldn't go that far. Can't abide creeps though, regardless of someone's reputation. Doesn't matter who it is."

"I would," Cyril said carefully. "Go that far, I mean. There aren't many men who would defend someone like me."

He might have been talking about the fact that he was an elf, or something else, he wasn't very clear.

"So thank you."

"If it makes you feel any better about it, chalk it up to my being a stranger." Krem leaned his hip against the piercing chair, keeping his eyes on Cyril's face. "You really are serious about this, aren't you? A lunch date, I mean."

Not that he thought it was a fault, far from it. It was simply an amusing point, to him.

"Of course I am," Cyril replied, smiling a bit. "You're wonderful. Why wouldn't I want to treat you to lunch?"

Krem's ears color slightly at that. Wonderful?

"Well. Why not?" He finally decided and shrugged a shoulder, playing casual to keep from looking flustered at that. "I'll be taking break soon anyway, it'd be nice to have some company for it."

Cyril looked excited. "Wonderful," he said. He looked a little too pleased that Krem had said yes. "I'll pay, of course. You pick the place."

Krem shook his head about the offer of payment for lunch. He had plenty of cash on hand, he would be fine, surely. But whatever, best not to argue. A free meal wasn't something that one just turned down, after all.

"I've got another appointment in about twenty minutes but after that...what about the sandwich place up the street there?" After all, it was his favorite lunch spot and had a little bit of everything, so obviously there would be something for both of them there. If Cyril actually wanted to eat anyway; it felt entirely possible to him that the elf would be the type to simply sit across the table from and make eyes at him while picking apart a salad.