It couldn’t be said where it started or, to be more precise, how it started. All that could be said was he was now a housewife..err..househusband. And to an elf—a dark elf— at that. Better yet, a male dark elf who practiced both the sword and magic.
This was not at all how Benor expected his life to be nor was it his preferred eventuality and yet, here he was minding this store selling what weapons and armours he crafted in their nearby smith. It was..unsettling, being alone here, trying to smile or at least be approachable enough to service those who wandered in here. Mostly battle-hardened warriors these days given the common folk of Morthal really had no business or desire to see a surly brawler on the off chance they happened to have both coin and a need for gear on the same day. Especially since everyone knew each other there with hardly enough foot traffic to make an excuse for idle visits.
"Maybe..I should offer going to Whiterun…" He stood speaking to himself as he often did when the shop was bare, he arms folded on the counter, the smell of apple cabbage. "Get more business that way…though..hafta find more tah sell…Dek’s always intah that..alchemy stuff, so maybe he can gimme some of his lefotver stuff to sell…" So consumed was he by thoughts of making Whiterun work, of getting out of this snow-barren pit that he hardly noticed the warm body standing before him, simply grinning gently at how simply precious he was.
"Ben." The figure spoke in a deep, dulcet tone snapping the Nord immediately back to reality with a blinking, spluttering grunt. "You seem busy, need I return at another time?"
Benor snorted, lifting his shoulders robustly to shake away the impression of actual thought he carried, though his cheek was tinged with a definite pink in spite of himself. “Hey, Dekrov.” He finally spoke after a while, the grey of his eyes giving his gaze a particularly translucent impression, an impression the elf in front of him fancied quite a bit though he would never admit to this.
"Evening." The Dovahkin spoke softly, a silence overtaking them both as soon as the word diffused into the air. They regarded each other thoughtfully, listening to the beatings of their own hearts, the quickening of the pace yet the timidity in both of their expressions, adjusting still to this sudden ‘married couple life’.
And then slowly, very slowly, the elf began to inch forward, towards the Nord who in turn inched closer until very lightly, very gently, their lips touched. And it was from this touch that the tension eased from their weary bones and a rough, coal stained hand reached to cup the dark grey cheek of the man he married. Sighing gently against his lips, feeling the slight grin of the other on his mouth, he brought his hand to the elf’s neck and leaned against him forehead to forehead.
"Good to be home, love."
I accidentally drabbled. < A> So, I may or may not suddenly be in love with Benor and may or may not marry him to my Dark elf battlemage. I know most everyone is all Vilkas! Farkas! But but.. He’s just so cute with his tsundere-ness. /has decided
Hurr. U uU;; <33