Life in Camp Shady Fuckers

[unbrokenoath]

WHO: Everyone living in or visiting the Warden camp
WHAT: Just some low-key action-spammy stuff for a bunch of sketchy losers who got tossed into the camp for sketchy losers. And the people who come to hang out because sketchy losers are the coolest losers.
WHEN: Vaguely stretching around Cloudreach?? Nothing is set in stone, time is an illusion
WHERE: Camp Shady Fuckers The Warden camp
NOTES: Just throw whatever warnings necessary in the heads of your threads

Just throw opens or whatever up this is a low-key general mingly kinda thing for hanging out and shouting at each other. Feel free to interrupt other threads or whatever and idk man this is basically like a network post but in real life.

Comments

Middle of the blighted night

[ombranera]

[ Zevran has a new roomate, hurrah. Mia is kind and warm and takes exactly none of his bullshit which is a marvelous change of pace from the rest of the applications-

But she is not Alistair. And on occasion, more than on occasion, he worries. And thus in the darkness and the chill he wanders down to the camps for another of their infuriatingly pointless conversations. What is said doesn't matter half as much as that it is being said at all.

And he misses the man. More than anything else, more than he'd expected. Zevran shuffles around to peer into the tent- which is empty. Grumbling and bundled in a fur lined cloak he continues to wander until he finds Alistair.

Not one word, just a half asleep shuffling until he's got his head butted up against Alistair's back. ]

[byblow]

[ The crunch of ice doesn't surface over the song in his head until it's only good for a half-second's warning, but that's enough he doesn't flinch too badly. He looks back over his shoulder far enough to confirm via hair color that it is Zevran and not some other person of approximately the same height randomly headbutting him in the back. He lowers his flint and steel, blinks a few times. However long he's been standing here, it's long enough for snow to have piled up around his boots. After another second to resurface from his head, he tips his head even further back in a futile bid for eye contact. ]

Now I really know you love me. [ Quiet—there are, presumably, people actually managing to sleep. ] Did you make it here with all your fingers and toes? Your nose?

[ombranera]

[ Whining does not become a master assassin. Never the less Zevran screws his face up against Alistair's back and leans up enough on his toes to rub his very cold nose against the skin of his throat. It is still there, but it is cold.

As are his fingers.

Which he thinks nothing of slipping under Alistair's shirt to rest against his ribs. ]

What do you think?

[byblow]

Hey.

[ But that's all—the word and a slight flinch, and then he's just as quickly folding his arms over his ribs to trap Zevran's hands and warm them up. Maybe. To try. ]

I think you're rude. Very rude. Up there with Oghren.

[ombranera]

Liar.

[ He grumbles, face still buried against Alistair's neck. ]

I am the height of poise and politesse.

[byblow]

You aren't the height of anything, half pint.

[ Unfair. Zev is plenty tall, especially for an elf. But if Zevran gets to put ice-fingers under his shirt, Alistair gets to make short jokes. Those are the rules. Look them up. He dislodges his feet after a moment, where they feel like they're growing into the ground, and squirms and twists his way around to face Zevran instead. ]

Is everything all right?

[ombranera]

Puppy.

[ He mutters, squirming just as much until he can step up on Alistair's boots and tuck his head under his chin. Much better. Warm and settled. ]

I missed you. [ That goes without saying. ] And I was thinking.

[byblow]

Tsk. You know better.

[ombranera]

That I do, and yet...

[ He sighs. ]

...what you were saying some time ago. Putting the 'love' into 'lover.'

[byblow]

[ Alistair can't raise his eyebrows at Zevran, because Zevran is hiding in his neck, but he does raise his eyebrows at the void and briefly raise his chin in a way that suggests he's trying to look at Zevran without actually putting in the full effort required to do it. ]

I would never say anything that cheesy.

[ He remembers. ]

[ombranera]

How...how do you know if you want that?

[ There must be something, some sign, a particular sensation in one's chest. An ache that comes from wanting to share more than physical intimacy with someone that you know well. ]

[byblow]

Well.

[ Pause. Maybe it doesn't sound like a bewildered pause; it's short, mistakable for dramatic effect. But in the space of the pause he's genuinely confused—not that Zevran is asking, good, high time. But Alistair doesn't know how anyone knows. Or how anyone doesn't know, is probably more accurate. Surely everyone experiences a constant twinge of please please please let me mean something to you in all relationships of all kinds. ]

If you're asking, I mean. That's.

[ Nailed it. ]

[ombranera]

Curiosity.

[ He mutters, thudding his forehead against Alistair's shoulder. He had not thought of it at all, hadn't considered the weight of it like a stone in his chest until he saw Nathaniel and Anders, and saw that perhaps there was more than lust at work even if he manage to nudge it along. Two handsome men falling together- he should have felt smug. Not...wistful. ]

I am curious.

[byblow]

Then you've certainly come to the right man. The Romance Expert, that's what all of the Wardens call me. You can ask them.

[ He knocks Zevran's head with his chin, affectionately. ]

This isn't about Michel de Chevin, is it?

[ombranera]

You know more than I do in this.

[ Not much, but more. Still he snuffles close. ]

Does it matter if it is?

[byblow]

Yes.

[ He could probably offer to go back to the tent—where Beleth hasn't moved in yet, or is currently not there, whichever—but the sting of the wind in his eyes is keeping him from sliding back into a daze. ]

I'll say all the same things, but I need to know whether to use my nice voice or my grumpy voice.

[ombranera]

I do not know.

[ The mess with Michel is it's own mess, separate from the strange stone in his chest. ]

It is about- you know Nathaniel and Anders, yes? Some time ago there was this 'challenge one another, fight out your grievances, let the matter be settled' business. Very manly and virile and fine. I challenged Anders under the matter of being less of a pile of saddened puppies at his plight. It was getting depressing, that. He chose seduction as the means. We mutually attempted to Seduce Nathaniel which-

Well it worked well enough until I realized there was Sentiment involved between the two of them, whether they knew it or not. I may or may not have thrown the match after that- watching them afterward. It was hot, it was attractive, I felt smug for having spurred it onward but...

I, perhaps, wanted that? Something with meaning. There was a moment of wistful jealousy, perhaps.

[byblow]

Oh, for Andraste's sake.

[ —that isn't directed at Zevran, particularly, and neither does it sound genuinely distraught. But Nathaniel and Anders? For real? Poor Anders. But Alistair lets it go with a sigh. Zev is having feelings, vocally. That's rarer and more important than anyone having poor taste in men. (He doesn't really mind Nathaniel that much, for the record. It's fun to pretend he does.) He nudges Zevran with a knee. ]

Just a moment?

[ombranera]

Perhaps more than a moment.

[ Perhaps still? It lingers, this weight, this ache for absence, this desire. He does not put a name to it but-

Is it so wrong to wish things to have meaning? For there to be Sentiment? He has spent so much of his life pushing such things away he has forgotten what it might be to have it otherwise. ]

It has been long enough since Rinna that I might...I do not know.

[byblow]

[ Alistair is quiet for a moment before he raises a hand to rub the back of Zevran's neck. ] You deserve it, if you want it. And if you think you want it you probably do.

[ombranera]

This would be so much simpler if you liked men. [ He mumbles. ] And if I was a better judge of what is good for me.

[byblow]

Not chevaliers, for starters.

[ He's joking. Kind of. Not really. But he says it like a joke, and without any real intent to push. Just a reminder. ]

And not me. I have enough trouble keeping up with you already.

You could put out for more applications.

[ombranera]

Alistair...

[ He twists a hand enough to pinch his ribs. Not hard but- enough to make a point. ]

How would I know what to judge? What would I even put on such a thing?

[byblow]

[ Alistair squirms, but otherwise doesn't protest the pinching. He earned it. He's proud of earning it. ]

I don't know. But I'm always happy to judge for you. I'm good at judging. [ And he can always use kindling. ] Are you going to sleep down here tonight?

[ombranera]

[ Zevran sighs at the squirming. His brother, ladies and sers of Thedas. Eternal puppy. ]

That might be for the best. On both counts. Mia knows I am down here so she does not worry.