[ ACTIVE / OPEN : GODSBLOOD ]

[bythelight]

WHO: Anduin Wrynn & Anyone in Godsblood
WHAT: Local 19 Year Old Boy Realises He May Need A Job
WHERE: Godsblood
WHEN: August, up until the event (17th)
WARNINGS: None at the offset

Being in a coastal city, surrounded by mountains, inevitably makes Anduin think of Stormwind. Only if he was in Stormwind, he wouldn't be in quite the predicament he's in now.

Anduin has no money, one set of clothing and a thin blanket. That, and Wrathion. He's not certain if that's a blessing or a curse, but company is company.


I. HEALING

"Hold still," Anduin says softly.

"How long will this take?"

"Just a moment --"

"And how much will it cost?"

"No charge, as I said."

"I do not need your pity. I can afford to pay! Tell me the cost."

Anduin shifts on the crate he's sat on by the boat moorings, looking up into the expression of the woman whose arm he's healing. A soft, warm glow of light is enveloping the limb as he holds it steady, a gentle buffet of magic rustling Anduin's loose, blond hair. It is, at least, now dry -- but what he wouldn't do for a comb and a hair tie.

"This may burn a little," he warns, and she hisses in response. "You'll need to rest it a few days, so I'd advise against fishing --"

"Payment," she emphasises, and he warily lets go of her arm again as she wiggles her fingers to test it.

"Well," he says finally. "I wouldn't say no to something to eat."

There's a pause before she nods, studying him warily before walking away towards her boat to search for something. Anduin watches her leave, then turns his attention back up to the figure nearby who had been watching.

"Can I help you?"

A start. Perhaps they need healing too? Or just have questions.


II. EATING

Now armed with something to eat, Anduin has moved to a quieter spot along the shoreline. He's watching birds wheel through the sky, boats moving back and forth across the horizon.

An unease grips him, but it feels... formless. Like there's an emptiness inside him he isn't sure what to do with.

Is Azeroth... truly gone?

Genn Greymane. Jaina Proudmore. Veleera, Velen --

So many people. Everyone in Stormwind.

Gone.

Where does that leave him? What does that leave him?

A sovereign, this place calls him, but of what? Anduin Wrynn is no longer anyone of import. He's not sure how to feel about that.

He also has no money, nowhere to sleep. As much as he doesn't want to ask people for payment, he will need a job sooner rather than later. Light, what would he be good at? It feels wrong to ask for money in return for healing. He can use a bow and sword if he needs to, but enough to charge for it? He could hunt at a push... Carrying messages, perhaps? Loading and unloading stock?

He frowns in thought as he picks at the bread he has, then turns as he senses someone nearby. Maybe the easiest thing is to ask --

"Excuse me?" he prompts, pushing up to his feet. His leg twinges and he winces briefly before straightening. "Do you know this place well?"

Better to start gently than to question someone who knows as little as he does.


III. WILDCARD

Pitch me your own starter! I can switch to brackets if you want, prose is just my default.

Comments

IV. WRATHION

[bythelight]

Anduin doesn't know what he truly hoped to achieve in this place, but in truth it's a little more than he has so far. He's waiting at their designated regroup location, some food from what he'd been offered kept for Wrathion just in case he hasn't had anything. He feels an unbearable urge to scratch, but that's nerves.

He ignores it.

The situation is easier if he... compartmentalises. The first problem is the lack of money and a place to sleep. There's no use trying to work out any bigger problems until they get past that. No battles can be won while weak and exhausted, and he's still not quite at full power.

In the slowly growing shadows of the shipyard, Anduin Wrynn sits down on an abandoned pallet and tries not to worry. Tries not to think about why he and Wrathion might be here, what the purpose may be. Tries not to wonder if any others may be here, and how he'd find out.

Tries not to think how away they might be from whatever remains of Azeroth. Tries not to consider how long they might be there. If he will ever see it again, or if this was truly it. If the end could have been prevented, and he simply failed --

He tips his head back and studies the sky, letting out a slow breath. One thing at a time. One thing at a time.

Motion catches his attention, and Anduin turns to watch Wrathion approach.

"Are you hungry?" he prompts, and picks up the small bag he has. He'd kept the dried meat aside for Wrathion, out of what he was given, but if he doesn't want it Anduin can eat it himself.

V. VADER

[bythelight]

Anduin's understanding had been that they should be careful, but the person he can see doesn't appear to be... well, being careful. Or, in truth blending in.

Was there really nothing he could do about it? Or did he just not care?

The festival has definitely generated some... high spirits, for want of a better word. The teenagers are particularly susceptible to this kind of thing --

A funny thought, he supposes he technically still is. He draws closer, warily, trying to hear what exactly is going on while equally having the wary sensation that it might all be a terrible idea.

[heavybreaths]

Vader can't really blend in, given his situation. He's huge and hulking, his breathing is intimidating, and he is perhaps the most mechanically advanced thing on Horos by a wide margin. He also doesn't really have any interest in it.

During his movement through the city, he does stop to take in some of the sights, and when he'd been approached by some nosy teenagers he hadn't ignored them. Three young women and two young men, each one of them seemingly on the cusp of adulthood. He'd tolerated a few questions at first, and certainly hadn't hidden the fact that he was an Aion.

The questions about the struggle in the city recently had piqued his interest, and he picked out bits of them from impressionable minds, gently so. Telling them what they wanted to hear was easy.

"Yes, of course resistance is possible. Truly eradicating a resistance is something far more difficult than it seems. Quashing the idea of hope takes more than most can stomach."

The teens are hanging on his every word, obviously, and his methodical way of speaking seems to draw the listener in. Nothing sinister here, really. He's just preaching to a flock.

[undertheweight]

"No," Wrathion's answer is quick, but there's no arrogance in it. His dignity has suffered today, but the dragon is not about to admit to that either.

"You?" At least he had found work, he thinks. Grueling and leaving him somewhat smelly, sure, but it also left him with a small handful of jools that were not the lowest denomination. (They weren't high, either, but they might be able to find a room for the night. Wrathion might be able to have a bath, and wash his only set of garments.)

He hunkers down near the blonde, digging in a cloth sack he has. In truth, it's his own thin blanket, which has had many uses during the day. A neck wrap to hide his shard, for one. In the deepening shadow, it's less likely someone will notice it. Or so Wrathion hopes. They don't despise Aions here, but it seems more prudent to not put himself on display.

The first thing he offers Anduin is three buns, wrapped in a cloth. There's some sort of mixture in the center--he thought it was some sort of meat and cabbage, but he'd sampled one himself, and the concoction passed his palate. The sauce within didn't hurt, either. They even have some residual heat to them.

The next is the tiniest jar of some sort of salve. "The woman I bought this from says she uses it for her joints when they are sore. I thought you might find a use for it."

He'd noticed Anduin's occasional hesitance in his movements. Which is not normal. Wrathion does worry that the sea air might not be the best for the young king, considering the old injuries he bears. They'd healed well, surely, but the last thing Wrathion wanted was to let him make things worse.

[bythelight]

Quashing the idea of hope takes more than most can stomach..

That is... quite the sentence. Anduin feels himself go cold at the thought.

He remembers --

Remembers the night elf refugees flooding into Stormwind, remembers Tyrande's rage, Genn Greymane's rage on their behalf. Remembers Sylvanas --

Sylvanas Windrunner, ready to destroy Lordaeron rather than letting anyone else have it.

The man is -- tall, and his... armour is strange. The heavy sound of his breathing. Is it... assisted? Is he sick? Anduin finds he has an immediate wave of sympathy at the thought. He thinks of the mechagnomes, of Geblin.

So many people are suffering, and he cannot help them all but -- he wants to.

He takes a slow step closer, and as the eyes of the youths --

(How old are they? He's only 19 himself. Why should they listen to him? Why should anyone listen to him? Some days, even his advisors don't. Genn Greymane doesn't. Tyrande doesn't. What does he know? What does a child who inherits his father's throne know?)

Anduin flickers a weak smile, nods.

"He's right," he murmurs. "Hope is strong. Hope is what you have when all other things have failed you. As long as you can hold on to hope, you have a reason to keep going."

He frowns, then hesitantly glances up at Vader.

"... You shouldn't be out here."

[bythelight]

Anduin blinks rapidly as the buns are handed to him, then hesitates as the jar is offered out. There's a wave of irritation at first --

but no. Wrathion is offering him this to help. He takes a breath, sets his pride aside and carefully takes it.

"... Thank you," he says.

He remembers a time when Wrathion had watched him hobble around the Tavern in the Mists, had warned all his visitors against doing Anduin any harm.

As if he cared.

He'd been so charming then, all manner of smooth words slipping from his tongue. Had it been his plan all along, Anduin wonders, to support Garrosh? Despite watching Anduin recover from what he did? Had he been -- keeping Anduin distracted? Playing him for a fool? Had his overtures of friendship, promises to rescue him from his father, all been empty?

Can he trust him now? Wrathion made such a show, earlier, of apologising and listening --

But he's done that before. Made a show of listening, learning, and things still ended the way they did. Wrathion claimed trusting him was hard -- he supposes it's true in reverse, as well. Only Anduin has never lied to Wrathion.

"If it is any consolation at all, I am deeply sorry for what I now must do."

Anduin laughed scornfully. "Sure you are."

The Black Prince shrugged. "Believe what you will, but it is the truth. We are friends, you and I."

That, he supposes, is the worst part. Wrathion had claimed they were friends, and he'd still behaved that way. If he truly believed that, then their being friends now wouldn't necessarily stop him doing something else.

For Wrathion, the ends truly did justify the means -- even if he had to go through people he cared about.

He drops his eyes away, carefully sets the jar to one side and unwraps the buns to study them. Would they keep? They seem fresh, so hopefully they would.

"I actually had something to eat," Anduin admits. "Someone gave me some food in return for healing. I saved some for you, but if you're not hungry we can keep this for later. I suppose we don't know yet what tomorrow will bring."

Quite the change, to be worried about food and accommodation. Even when Anduin had slipped away from Stormwind, to spend an evening in Goldshire playing at being someone else, he'd never been unable to afford food. Never been afraid he might be left without somewhere to sleep.

A disguise didn't change who he was, underneath he was still the same. Still Anduin Wrynn, with all the privilege and expectations that came with.

I.

[emblazer]

Thoma had been in the neighborhood delivering food to the new arrivals and checking up on the locals. After a hearty day of fishing, he has a bunch of delicious fish skewers, fresh off the grill, resting in a basket as he travels about, only to stop and catch Anduin healing an injured woman.

He waits until Anduin is finished to approach him with wide, curious eyes and a friendly smile.

"Not at the moment. I got patched up a while back, but maybe I can help you instead?"

His hand lifts the cloth covering his skewers to allow the smell to waft free.

"After using your powers, it's important to replenish your energy, especially for what's on the horizon."

The new arrivals may not know about the plan to free their friends yet, and he hates to be the bearer of bad news... but this can hopefully soften the blow.

[heavybreaths]

Vader's helmet turns briefly to acknowledge Anduin's presence. He'd felt the man approach, sensed his curiosity and his intentions. Probably like him, but not one of the enemy, his lack of hostility made that plain enough.

"This man is correct. Hope is what will tear the Regent from his throne," Vader stated bluntly, to a round of grim nods from the teenagers. "It must be stoked, but in secret at first. Have a care with whom you share your ideas, but rest assured that your time will come. You have potential, all of you."

Shifting his weight to include Anduin in the conversation, his helmet dips in a nod.

"Yes. Yet, here I am." Vader replies to the newcomer's statement. "Merely indulging the curiosities of youth."

A dark shepherd preaching to a willing flock, in truth. He had ideas for these teens should the conflict drag on, their faces and names etched into his memory already.

[undertheweight]

It's one benefit to being on the run. Oh, he'd had his bodyguards, Wrathion had, but even Left and Right couldn't do everything for him. If they were doing odd jobs, they weren't guarding him. And while it was easy to hide a fat little dragon whelp in places people likely would not notice, it was more difficult the larger he grew. And grow he had. Now, Wrathion was utterly unable to hide in his dragon form.

Sure, there was the Visage, but even that only went so far, when people knew what you looked like. As they had on Azeroth. And so he was reduced to...

Camping rough. Hunting (or fighting) for his own food (or to share). Just...running, staying away from populated settlements. And here, there were no bodyguards. Not for him. Not for Anduin, either, though Wrathion knew well that the young king had talent at slipping away from those meant to shadow him, as well.

"I do think I've enough for a room. For both of us. Of course, it might only be for the night, but it's better than nothing, and I can try again tomorrow." There might be a slight hint of pride in his voice, but it's stung by the fact that he can smell himself, and that rankles.

"I also need a bath," he admits. "I offend myself." To say nothing of Anduin, though they are near the shipyards, and there are likely fishing trawlers nearby that offer up their wares. So long as Wrathion stands downwind, it might not be too bad.

The dragon's expression brightens a little as Anduin admits that he'd eaten. "Well, we both weren't unsuccessful, then! That's good. Maybe we can both have a bath and a bed, then, eh?" And in the morning, breakfast.

He was going to look on the bright side, at least for now. Things could definitely be worse. It wasn't that he'd forgotten the conversation he'd had with Anduin. Could he? No. Simply that there seemed to be more pressing matters, to him. Best to attend to those, first.

[bythelight]

A room... for both of them? A room to share or a room each?

He supposes he shouldn't complain, either way, shelter is shelter but --

The thought of having no privacy from Wrathion's intense, red eyes leaves Anduin feeling...

Unsettled, a hot flash of embarrassment. They're no longer children, after all -- even though for Wrathion the scale of aging appears to be... different. Light, that makes it worse if he thinks about it! Why is he thinking about it?

He sets the discomfort aside, nods once.

"Of course," he says finally, "we should see what we can afford."

It may be best to go for a cheaper option in case neither of them can get work tomorrow, but considering Wrathion is the one who made the money it's his choice to make -- and the dragon has always been someone who likes fine things, when he has the option.

If Wrathion is trying, earning money, Anduin should be trying harder himself. He'll have to be firmer, to begin charging people for his talents if he can or to find something else he can do. There's no other option, when their survival is at risk. He's no longer a prince, a high king, he has no safety net. No people to excuse away his failures here. Either they earn money and survive, or they simply don't.

[bythelight]

Anduin blinks at the skewers of fish, the smell immediately making his stomach clench. Light, but he is hungry. The problem is --

He shakes his head, looking faintly embarrassed.

"I have no coin to offer you," he admits finally. Which may mean he's foolish for refusing payment, yes, but really -- charging people who are injured feels... wrong. He chose to become a priest to be able to help people, not to make a profit.

... Not that he'd needed money before, but that's -- something else. He wouldn't have, if he had needed it! Although equally, he may not have had the luxury if he hadn't been who he was.

[bythelight]

Indulging the curiosities of youth.

Something about the way Vader says that strikes Anduin, but he cannot quite put his finger on why. He sets the concern aside, instead letting his eyes flick around the area. Other people are watching them curiously, and unease gnaws at Anduin's stomach. The man seems intent on his task, so perhaps Anduin needs to take things into his own hands. He lets his mind reach out, a thread of shadow picking on what he judges to be the oldest of the teenagers.

"You should go," he suggests, "before we draw attention."

There's a blink in response, and a mild protest from the others before the older girl nods in response. The suggestion settles into place with her.

"We should go," she repeats and turns to begin leaving. The others hesitate, looking around a moment in confusion over the sudden change before moving to run after her. Anduin looks back up at Vader, frowning in concern.

"We should get off the streets."

[heavybreaths]

That gets his attention instantly. Vader can sense something, feel the flow of energy, but it differs from the Force. It's subtle, but the effect is familiar. Something he knows well.

Very Well the Sith Lord thinks to himself. You have my attention.

"As you wish. If you know a place where we can go, then lead the way."

Vader's body turns, the fiber of the suit creaking slightly like new leather. His voice drops an octave, pitched for Anduin's ears alone.

"I understand the portal is not far, but I would prefer to avoid going directly, if that is your intention."

[undertheweight]

That was Wrathion's plan--he does not like the cheaper option, but he also realizes that it's probably best to save some of these strange 'jools' in case they need them for something else.

He's well aware the jar of salve was a splurge, possibly an unnecessary one. However, he'd rather have something like it if Anduin needs it, than not have it and have Anduin's pride (because the priest does have some) suffer because he's in pain. (That, and Wrathion figures that a boarding house would likely have bathing facilities, which include soap.) The dragon is glad that Anduin has made no comment on his state at the moment. It would probably harm Wrathion's already-wounded pride. He hasn't admitted it, but Anduin knows him well enough to know that...

"I did not actually look for lodging, yet. I wanted to have you with me, so I didn't choose a place that offended us both." Wrathion is trying to make a joke, here, but there's an equal amount of truth contained within his statement. He would also ask Anduin if he's feeling all right, but Wrathion is concerned that Anduin might take that the wrong way, too.

Right now, Wrathion would be happy with a clean sort of boarding house, not too close to the shipyard. One that's tidy and one that does not have a vermin problem. He hasn't set the bar too high, because he's not sure what they'll encounter, here.

The downside is, one room for the both of them seems likely. He's got more sapphire than quartz, but not many of either. To him, it's depressing, but Wrathion reassures himself that he has done his best.

[bythelight]

Unlike some people who could be named, Anduin Wrynn has manners -- and he isn't about to complain about the way someone who worked for money smells or about the state of their shelter.

If it's dry and a tolerable temperature and not infested with something, he thinks that's fine.

"It's your money," Anduin points out, "you don't have to pay for me. If you do insist, however, it's still your preference and I'm sure I'll be fine with whatever you choose."

He is, of course, quietly hoping Wrathion will insist -- Anduin is exhausted and he doesn't relish the idea of sleeping outdoors sheltered by some crates. His eyes flit away around the dock again, studying the buildings around them. Maybe they'd have enough to stretch for something to drink, too. It likely wouldn't be good but it might ease his nerves, quiet some of the thoughts whirling around in his head -- although it might also add to the likelihood of restless sleep. Not ideal, when he's potentially sharing with Wrathion.

[undertheweight]

Anduin barely utters that Wrathion doesn't have to pay for him before the dragon locks that burning gaze on his friend, looking as if perhaps the priest has grown a second head.

"We are in this together, Anduin. You may not like it that you are stuck with me, and I understand that sentiment, truly I do. Still. I am not going to leave you to your own devices. I am just not, all right? So please. Don't insult me."

Or yourself, the dragon thinks. He's well aware of what Anduin is likely used to, and it's not available to them, yet, but Wrathion could wish it were.

Still, wish in one hand, crap in the other, and see which piles up first. It went without saying.

The dragon heaves a sigh, and offers a hand down to help Anduin to his feet. "You are the one who is likely having an overnight. I'm very tempted to go out and see if I can find more work. I'm not tired." Dragons didn't sleep that often, anyway. Wrathion suspects the establishment they find within their means won't have any reading material that isn't used for lighting the fireplaces, so why sit around and watch Anduin sleep? They'd both be rather uncomfortable with that. May as well make the most of it and get more money, if at all possible.

[bythelight]

He prefers to avoid going directly? Anduin studies him curiously, trying to discern meaning.

"You have unfinished business here?" he prompts. "Forgive me for mentioning it but you -- do rather stand out."

Perhaps there is some... reason, that Anduin is not privy to, why he has chosen to do this? Perhaps it is purposeful, intended to draw attention as part of some longer play? To draw out either sympathisers, or the reverse -- people who would cause trouble? Loyal to the Regent?

[heavybreaths]

"That is precisely why I would not wish to go directly there. We have been observed. It would be wisest for us to make sure we are not followed. Come with me."

He starts off into an alleyway, assuming that Anduin will keep up. His intention is to get out of the line of sight from the street and make sure he is in a place he can see all observers. And then make a move.

Once deep inside the alley, he glances back to make certain that the boy is close, and there is no-one else there.

"We should be able to break pursuit here," he says, gesturing upwards. "Can you get to the roof, or should I bring you with me?"

[bythelight]

Ah.

Anduin straightens a little at the reprimand, hesitates as Wrathion sighs and offers him a hand. Is he truly not tired? Or is it a reason to get away from him, he wonders?

To avoid him. To avoid talking, to avoid remembering the cloud hanging over all of this -- that Azeroth is apparently gone. That it may be just the two of them left, for whatever reason.

He presses his lips together, packs away the salve and the food Wrathion offered him then carefully takes his hand and pulls himself up. He does feel tired, admittedly. As if he's been tense for hours, all his muscles unable to relax. The stumble he took in the shrine of the Sovereign probably didn't help matters.

"You're sure you won't rest?" Anduin prompts. "Even if you don't feel tired now, you shouldn't overwork yourself."

They can't know how busy the next day will be after all. He studies Wrathion a long moment, then lets go of his hand.

"... If we're in this together," he adds, "I'd rather we work together. If something happens to you while I'm asleep, I have no way to help you."

[bythelight]

Oh!

Understanding dawns, and Anduin nods quickly -- squinting up at the roof. He can't fly, or throw himself, but he can climb? Is that good enough?

"Yes," he says, "I'll do my best. You think they'll follow us?"

Light, Wrathion would tell him he's not being careful enough he's sure. He had been, though! He'd been careful! He just -- this person was standing out so much, he was just worried.

[undertheweight]

"Why would anything happen to me?" Glossing right over the gentle rebuke the priest gives him. Anduin is right, he probably should make an attempt to sleep, but...

Anduin is also right in that Wrathion is compartmentalizing--not wanting to get away from Anduin in particular, but not thinking about how Azeroth might be gone? Not considering that it meant that he, Wrathion, failed in the charge he'd adopted, the charge he took on in an effort to prove that he could be better than his fallen father had been, the maddened Earth-Warder who had been that no longer...

There's a part of him that also knows that compartmentalization is unlikely to succeed, but Wrathion hopes that if he finds work, he can ignore those thoughts. He can sink into the simple necessity of using his body instead of his mind.

Wrathion honestly thinks he's safer here than he was on Azeroth. Here, most people do not know who he is. Here, it's unlikely that Kenoma Aions will find him--not without running into danger from his own faction, that is. But Anduin's concern does make the dragon pause. On one hand, Anduin was rightfully upset at him. Still, Anduin would not leave him alone--if he were to come to harm somehow, and Anduin was with him, the priest would give him aid. Even though Wrathion is certain Anduin doesn't believe the same was true of him.

Wrathion had betrayed him in the past, after all.

He sighs again, but relents with a nod. "All right. I'll stay for tonight, at least. Until our situation improves. We'll see how it goes tomorrow. All right?"

If it was still somewhat quiet--or as quiet as it could be, during the Firebrand's Moon--Wrathion reserved the right to go out and work, if he wasn't able to sleep. But that would depend on many things, and the dragon will give Anduin's opinion thought, again. Because if he can at all, he won't leave the Young Lion alone. Not again. Not if he can help it.

[heavybreaths]

"They will find it difficult, if I have anything to say about it."

He leaps straight up, rocketing up onto the roof with his power, landing nimbly. Looking down, he waits expectantly, ready to simply haul Anduin up with the Force if he takes to long. It wouldn't be hard.

[bythelight]

Anduin nods in acceptance. That's all he can ask for, really. They can't only do things together forever, he knows Wrathion values his independence -- but until they have a better understanding of this world Anduin would rather they not stray too far apart.

Trusting Wrathion entirely may be a challenge, but at least he is familiar. Anduin can, to a certain extent, predict and understand his behaviour.

To a certain extent.

"As you say," he accepts. "Let us find somewhere."

Whatever their budget can stretch to, he's sure the options will be varied given the wide range of people in the are.

The options, as it turns out, are indeed varied -- but their specific options are... more limited. The room is, at least, watertight and devoid of anything crawling (that he can see) but Anduin isn't convinced the straw filled mattress will do much for him.

Still, there are at least two -- and perhaps he can use the thin blanket he was given in the shrine as well to help lessen the itching against his pale skin. He moves toward one of the low pallets, setting down his bag and unpacking the blanket from it.

"You wanted to clean up, didn't you? Go ask them for some hot water. I'll be here."

[bythelight]

That's -- impressive!

Anduin blinks in surprise as Vader just leaps straight up, then looks faintly embarrassed.

"I suppose you didn't need my help at all," he says wryly, and gestures quickly. A soft, sparkly glow lifts him up a small amount from the ground so he floats. Anduin frowns in concentration, then begins to climb somewhat clumsily but still quickly up the side of the building. The levitation spell will at least catch him if he falls, and means he isn't fighting his own weight as he climbs.

[undertheweight]

"I did." But it wasn't as if the conditions weren't--to him, and likely to Anduin as well--dismal at best. Still. It was what was affordable.

Wrathion knows that just stacking the mattresses for Anduin's sake will start a fight he doesn't want to start. He might have the priest's best interests in mind, but Anduin's pride probably would not endure it.

That is something that Wrathion can comprehend, as well. Were their situations reversed, he'd certainly get huffy, to say the very least, should Anduin give up his mattress. Still, he offers Anduin his blanket, first, folded into a pad of sorts. A makeshift pillow. Wrathion has had worse. Like no pillow at all.

"You might need this." It was not very likely that Anduin had often slept without a pillow in his life. The straw mattress won't bother Wrathion, though if he could take dragon shape and not take up the entire room, he'd do it. He's far too inured to sleeping rough.

Some days, he wishes he were still a whelp. They don't come often, now, but Wrathion could give Anduin his mattress without much of an argument, then. Not so now. But there is still the matter of cleaning up, and the king is quite correct, so Wrathion nods.

"I'll be back soon enough, I suspect." He certainly won't take long, if only so that Anduin won't worry. More likely because he can barely scrape together jools for soap and towels, but it is what it is. Without another word, the dragon steps out.

Half an hour later, at most, Wrathion returns, less offensive to his own nose. He's also not wearing his shirt because he washed it for the same reason. There's a hook on the back of the door to their room, so he hangs it there before he nudges his mattress over towards the wall with a foot and settles upon it, looking at Anduin expectantly.