[He doesn't want to see this, either, but Prior has much more delicate sensibilities than he for what he knows is coming. He looks down both ends of the hall, brows furrowed like the apparent direction to take isn't obvious—after all, this is not the perspective he was in back then. From the room the second Dorian is in, two men's voices come to laugh, and the distinct sound of a bed creaking follows them.
Dorian is not pissed, not truly, not yet. He's complaining to his company in a way he doesn't mean, voice slurred and labored, but in a way that's intentional. It would probably raise more questions if footsteps coming from behind the pair in present didn't already drown them out, and the Dorian alongside him didn't start swearing himself.
He tugs Prior to the side of the hall before a group of assailants, armed with weapons but lacking the armor of an honorable guard, can trample them. The men finally move from their stations, perplexed by their presence, but calling for them to stop too slowly. One's armor is pierced by a mercenary's daggers before another word can pass his lips, and the next takes one to the neck. They collapse, and Dorian places a hand at Prior's jaw to turn his head away from the violence.]
no subject
[He doesn't want to see this, either, but Prior has much more delicate sensibilities than he for what he knows is coming. He looks down both ends of the hall, brows furrowed like the apparent direction to take isn't obvious—after all, this is not the perspective he was in back then. From the room the second Dorian is in, two men's voices come to laugh, and the distinct sound of a bed creaking follows them.
Dorian is not pissed, not truly, not yet. He's complaining to his company in a way he doesn't mean, voice slurred and labored, but in a way that's intentional. It would probably raise more questions if footsteps coming from behind the pair in present didn't already drown them out, and the Dorian alongside him didn't start swearing himself.
He tugs Prior to the side of the hall before a group of assailants, armed with weapons but lacking the armor of an honorable guard, can trample them. The men finally move from their stations, perplexed by their presence, but calling for them to stop too slowly. One's armor is pierced by a mercenary's daggers before another word can pass his lips, and the next takes one to the neck. They collapse, and Dorian places a hand at Prior's jaw to turn his head away from the violence.]
It'll be over soon.