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Did I go at it wrong? Did I go intentionally to destroy me?
WHO: Zevran and You
WHAT: Zevran back at Skyhold, Recovering
WHEN: Mid to late guardian, covering a span of time
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: CW/TW FOR: Mentions of torture, withdrawal, suicidal ideation, swearing, self loathing, etc. Shit gets dark. This log is also for characters not on the rescue long. Locked thread below will be done on first come, first serve.
WHAT: Zevran back at Skyhold, Recovering
WHEN: Mid to late guardian, covering a span of time
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: CW/TW FOR: Mentions of torture, withdrawal, suicidal ideation, swearing, self loathing, etc. Shit gets dark. This log is also for characters not on the rescue long. Locked thread below will be done on first come, first serve.
[ His Quarters ]
Good day
Sometimes it's good. He's tired from the trip, tired from the ordeal- but he'll see people. Play cards, answer questions- as many as he can stand. Nothing about the side of his face he has hidden under a bandage, nothing about what was done to him- but he'll describe Antiva. Mention how gallant and ridiculously awesome his rescuers were. Share coffee or brandy or whatever he has on hand- and make light. He tires easily early on in his recovery, but later? He might converse for an hour or so before needing a break. Alistair sees most people in and out as needed.
Bad day
Early on he spends more time alone, quiet and isolated, Alistair a silent, stoic wall between him and the world. Notes will be passed along as well wishes- but he'll only see the most demanding and even then? He'll be listless. Snappish. Frustrated that they forced their way and company upon him when he would rather be left in peace.
[ Stables ]
Good day
A target on the far wall and a dagger in his hands, he's attempting to learn to compensate for the eye- under a leather patch now that neatly hides both the eye and his new scars, and talking a small group of strange new students as they work on...carving toys. Or sketching one another. Or working on a lute- a difference from the lessons he'd been giving before. But they do as they're told and laze about while he works on the throwing, or while he walks them through a particular shading technique, curl of the knife, or chord. Even when they're dismissed he continues with the throwing, aim slowly circling about to something better.
Bad day
When his patience with himself is at it's limit, when he's climbing the walls for want to get away from Alistair's oppressive hovering, when he cannot bear to even teach, he hides in the rafters of the stable. More likely than not there is a bottle of wine or brandy or something stronger still hanging from his fingers, head tipped into the shadows as he drums his fingers against his chest. Until Alistair or Beleth hunt him down, he means to remain there, high above where most people don't think to look.
[ Clearing Outside of Skyhold ]
Later in his recovery, when the worst of it is settled, no matter his temperament he is out running drills with those same students, agility drills, knife drills, a highly acrobatic and complicated looking game of tag or one of the most terrifying rounds of hide and seek possible while he lounges under a tree, calling out corrections or instructions. A bottle of wine, a basket of bread and dried sausages. When his mood is poor and his patience low he runs with them, pushing himself to the point of surly exhaustion. When it is high he sits and drinks and sketches out various shapes of armor, tools- things they may need.
[ Battlements - Locked to Bruce, Sabine, Martel, Mia, and Nahariel ]
On the darkest nights he cannot sleep. Not for all the wine in skyhold, not for all the sleeping spells and draughts available. To close his eyes is to see the fade- to be back on that hook, back in that cell with the blood and whispering. The Shades. He's back with the choice- the knife in his hand and the order in his ear. Wakes to find Alistair, so quiet so trusting. It would take nothing. When the weight of this is too much he walks up, out, finds himself a perch, sitting on the edge of the battlements, peering down at the rocks below. All he has to do is lean. All he needs to do is let go. It would be so very easy to let go, to be done. Maker above, he wants to. Even when he has found it in himself to take a step back, to return to bed; another night might have him back on the battlements once again, considering the drop.
Stables, Good Day
But Kaisa is, always, a helper, and he needs help. And he deserves help.
So she wanders in to the stable one day, Puppy at her heel. She watches curiously as he teaches carving, makes a note to try asking him about it herself one day. Right now, she needs to stay focused. Once the students are dismissed, she mosies on up to Zevran, watching them leave. "...If the Inquisition tries giving trouble about them, I could conscript them." She hesitates, and holds her hands up. "Not that I'm encouraging it, but as a last resort, if things go tits up. I can always conscript them and forget to make them take the Joining until things blow over."
She really hopes that didn't come off wrong. After a few moments, as if to try to smooth over any ruffled feathers from her offer, she gestures to Puppy, who is currently rolling in the dirt, trying his very hardest to ruin the bath she just gave him. "...Do you like dogs?"
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No. He would not wish that upon them.
"If it goes poorly, we leave." They make their own way; here is as good a place as any- but if Sister Nightingale cannot bend her pride nor her rigid spine enough to grant them peace? He has places he might go. "But I do not think it will come to that. They are adjusting."
He is adjusting- and blinking at the question takes a moment. "I- what?"
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She pauses, and rubs the shaved side of her head a moment, before trying to decide how to word this. It's not like she really knows what happened, just a few idle rumors, what she knows of the Crows, and Zevran's face to piece together that puzzle. But, well. He got taken by the Crows. They probably didn't give him the spa treatment.
"This little shit is Puppy." At the sound of his name, he rolls up to stand, tail wagging. "His mom was an Antivan mastiff, actually, if I recall. Very purebred, super fancy. He's just a mutt, though. But he's good at sensing when a person is having nightmares, and he wakes them up before it gets to bad. And he's the best guard dog you'll find. Good at sensing who's a danger and who's not. Keeps an eye open the entire night." She paused, reaching down to affectionately rub the dog's head, before she turns to Zevran, once again feeling sheepish. It's a strange offer, she's sure.
"...I wanted to let you borrow him. He'll help you out, just like he helps me."
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At least those were somewhat inspired. Not by much or by greatness, but. Somewhat. This was sheer laziness of a kind he had to respect. What is the dog's name- puppy. It probably speaks to it's temperament as well. "I already share a bed with a clinging, overzealous hound- and Doghren. A third may be pushing it."
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This was followed up by another scratch behind his ears, before she released him and turned to Zevran. "You have two--" Stop. Slowly dawning look of realization. "--Oh. Oh! Right. Alistair. Yes." She didn't realize they shared a bed. Nice. Except now is not the time to be thinking about that.
"Well, if you're sure. Like the other offer--it's on the table, whenever you want it. Just give me a heads up." She stopped then, rubbing her head again. He didn't want either of the things she'd offered. What can she do if he doesn't want her Wardeny things or her Dog things? After a moment, she seemed to decide that the answer was her company, because she plopped down on a bale of hay.
"I liked your carvings. I always thought that was neat. All that art stuff. Taking something from your brain and putting it down into the real world." Another pause. "You can tell me to get lost if you want, by the way. I'll understand."
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A beat.
"Actually if I could borrow him long enough to feed him, I think that would work out quite well- she is boney but not very hairy but I know Alistair keeps feeding her scraps of cheese so she might taste half decent- if not I'll have a nice dried scrap of sausage for you, yes?" He scrubs the back of Puppy's head, lips twisted in a smile. "Honestly I am not the best teacher of carving- the Dalish elf Nari may be better able to show you the nuances. But I can show you how to get started."
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Kaisa doesn't even bother to try looking remorseful at her dog's breach in etiquette, just looking amused. Which is probably why he does it in the first place. But she moves from looking amused to straight out laughing at Zevran's words. "Well, I told you that you could borrow him, I guess I can't tell you what to do after that. Just make sure he doesn't get too fat. Or get cheese farts. Those are the worst." She squinted at Puppy. "You know exactly what I mean."
The dog barked cheerfully. Guilty is apparently not something he has grasped.
"Ah, Nari. Dalish. Got it. I wouldn't mind learning the basics, though. Sure are a lot of Dalish around here, huh?" She says it cheerfully, without any ill intentions. It's neither a good thing, nor a bad thing, it's just a surprise. "In the alienage, they always made 'em sound like legends out of myth, you know? Like it'd be as likely to see a bunch of griffons sitting around preening as a group of Dalish." She paused, rubbing her neck thoughtfully. "I wonder if they know better now, with the Dalish helping save the world and everything."
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Still. New faces to learn, new lives to meet, new people to troll. Even if he was not quite of a mind to troll anyone just yet. "If you wish to learn the basics I have some time. Was there anything in particular you wished to learn to carve?"
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At the offer, she blinked, looking surprised, then grinned widely. Her first instinct was to say 'A dog, of course'. But no. She needed to say something cool and not totally obvious. And probably something kind of easy, too. "Maybe...A sun? Like the Andrastian sun? Or would the squiggles be too difficult to start off with?" She was starting to look excited at the prospect of learning how to do it, though. Hey, now that she wasn't off Wardening constantly, taking up a few hobbies sounded pretty great.
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